Darla

Title: Alpha Queen: To Whoreship You
Author: Darla Tverdohleb
Genre: R18+ Romance, Fantasy, Werewolf, Vampire, Action, Witch, Myth
Language: English

F*kayna is a runaway werewolf princess. She meets her human mate, but he rejects her for a good reason, his revenge.
But she's one who doesn't take rejection, and she'll pursue and seduce him if necessary...
Bravonovel:
https://www.bravonovel.com/alpha-queen-to-whoreship-you-12928

Dreame:
https://m.dreame.com/novel/809574912.html

y feelings right now—more than two tablespoons of sadness, a rich dash of bitterness, and heaps of pain.

Just earlier, I followed and watched her as she walked on the sidewalk and strode into a fine restaurant. Her vanillic daffodil scent teased my senses, and I loved to sniff it so much that I closed my eyes and basked in its fragrance, setting aside the other scents that tried to taint it. This scent—it made me feel so alive after two thousand years.

I thought my heart had long forgotten to beat, and yet it seemed to be resurrected inside my chest. It was beating so fast and hard, almost wanting to destroy my rib cage.

No, this can’t be. My wife is dead. A long time ago.

But here she was, in flesh and blood, walking and talking to a young man whom I didn’t recognize. I balled my hands into fists and gritted my teeth. My fangs grew larger and longer, piercing my lips, and I tasted my own blood.

“I want her,” I whispered into the air. I could feel myself go rigid. Just by watching her while sitting in the backseat of my limousine had aroused me.

“Your Greatness,” my vampire butler and driver said, bowing his head slightly. Still sitting behind the wheel, he dialed someone’s number on his phone and instructed them to get the woman I loved.

I, on the other hand, watched through the restaurant’s glass walls. The lights inside were bright, seemingly blinding, as her great beauty alone lit up the entire place. But seeing her clinging to another man’s arm made me seethe. She shouldn’t do it. She was mine and mine alone.

I watched as screams of panic and fear filled the air. The diners were attacked by hungry and aggressive vampires. Tables and chairs were upturned, creating a series of crashing sounds. Food, drinks, and utensils were scattered everywhere, and fresh blood splashed on the floor and glass walls.

Slowly, the corners of my lips lifted into a smile. “Habibti,” I whispered, calling her with my favorite endearment. “Just when did you learn how to fight?” I continued to whisper in the air. Exhilaration and excitement bloomed in my chest as I watched my beloved woman fight against my sires’ sires.

My eyes narrowed when I noticed that the young man she was with was no less a warrior. He beheaded a few vampires using a chopping knife in his hand. The knife was stained with dark red blood in no time.

I ground my teeth, wanting to join the party and take my wife myself. I opened the car door and stepped out. For some reason, the chopping knife got through the glass wall and was heading fast towards my neck. My butler hissed when he caught the knife just an inch away from my neck, his fingers cut and falling to the ground. I roared in annoyance while my butler grunted in pain. My fiery red eyes darted at the young man that my wife was with. Clearly, he saw me standing outside his restaurant, and our eyes clashed.

Silver arrows wheezed past me, cutting the immaculate sleeve of my black trench coat, prompting an expletive to escape my lips. The arrows embedded themselves in the car door behind me. Had it not been for my vampire speed, they would have pierced my flesh and bones.

“Your Greatness, we must go!” my butler advised urgently, pushing me back into the black limousine.

I scanned the surroundings and noticed several shadows of vampire hunters surrounding the restaurant. Ibn al Kalb (son of a dog)! Why were they here? Were they working with this pack of dogs? Were they protecting my beloved wife?

I swallowed and retrieved the knife from the ground. With a swift motion, I hurled it back towards its owner. Fortunately for him, he managed to dodge it. Was he lucky or merely as agile as those hunters?

The limousine accelerated, leaving the scene as more vampire hunters gave chase. I cursed under my breath. How dare they separate me from my wife!

***
“Aşa este? (This is it?)” I asked my eighteen-year-old witch best friend as I eyed the little crystal vial, which contained a glowing peach-colored liquid.

We were in a small cave, our meeting place, located in the northern slopes of the Central Eastern Carpathians. It was in Bucovina, Romania, although we didn’t live near each other, given that my kind and hers were sort of enemies.

Ho-kay, not just sort of. They were indeed enemies, much like vampires were our enemies, though the latter were on a distinctly higher level. Perhaps the highest among others, they were vicious, incredibly cruel, and no one would willingly submit to their fangs. After all, who would willingly become their food?

Nevertheless, Relia Ciobanu and I had been friends for more than a couple of years, despite our kinds not being on good terms. It all started when we accidentally crossed paths one night in this area. She was running through the woods, and I was trying to blow off some steam, when suddenly a couple of vampires appeared. Being nosy at times, I jumped in and saved her, unaware that she was actually a witch!

At that time, I couldn’t shift yet, as I was barely fourteen. Wolves like us typically start shifting on our sixteenth birthday. Nevertheless, I was able to defend myself against those vile creatures, thanks to my training in combat ever since I could stand on my own. My father, Alpha King Zoltán Lupu, made sure of that. He was controlling and incredibly strict, everything a teenage girl like me would despise in a father.

At the age of sixteen, Relia was easily spooked and would often choose to run rather than utilize her magic. It turned out that she had a kind of magical block that would surface when she was truly distressed and afraid. However, everything changed when she met me, and somehow, I helped her overcome it during the time we spent together after that fateful night when I killed those vampires. I continuously encouraged her to use her magic as a means of protecting herself and those she loved. My persuasive nature seemed to inspire her, so she made a sincere effort. Well, I could be quite persuasive when I wanted to be.

Oh, why was I venting my frustration at that moment? My father had just informed me that I must marry a young and strong Polish Alpha named Alpha Zygmunt, who happened to be six years older than me. At barely sixteen, with my birthday just around the corner, he was discussing marriage? That was completely inappropriate! We were no longer living in ancient times, where such youthful unions were the norm. Moreover, I desired a more traditional approach. I yearned to encounter my destined mate—the one meant for me. I craved that enchanting connection that would irresistibly draw us together. Even at my tender age, I fantasized about it, thanks to my mother, Luna Queen Talibah, who always recounted the story of how she felt when she first encountered my father in Egypt some twenty years ago. And I perpetually found it incredibly romantic! I wanted to experience that love-at-first-sight moment with my mate as well. How could my father possibly decide to rob me of that precious opportunity?

“F*k, asta este,” Relia confirmed. Her dark gray eyes fixed on me, speaking evenly in Romanian, punctuating her words with a shrug.

I couldn’t help but flinch when she referred to me by that nickname. I never really cared for the name my parents had bestowed upon me, particularly my Egyptian mother, who had initially chosen it. I could only speculate that she wanted it to align with her own name, which meant “seeker of knowledge” because she embodied that quality so fully. She was an inherently curious soul, always immersed in books and venturing into places she probably shouldn’t have.

“I specifically asked you to call me Kayna, not F*k. You do realize that it sounds eerily close to ‘f*ck’ in English, right? Imagine if someone overheard and thought you were swearing at me, or worse, swearing in general! Or perhaps they’d misinterpret it as ‘foc’ and assume there’s a fire! Remember the near panic you caused when you called me that at the mall?” I contorted my face into a disapproving expression, delivering my words with a deadpan tone.

She rolled her dark gray eyes and let out a cackling laugh. “Your name is absolutely beautiful in Egyptian! You’ve told me it means intelligent, so why do you despise it so much?”

I wrinkled my nose in response. “If my mother was so fond of that meaning, she could have named me Akila instead. It carries the same significance, and I personally find it more pleasing to the ear.” As I spoke, my tawny eyes widened for a moment to emphasize my point.

Her teasing nature emerged as she playfully remarked, “And what would I call you then? Ack? Kil?”

A slight twitch appeared on my lips. She had a valid point. If English-speaking individuals or anyone familiar with English overheard her using that nickname, they might mistakenly believe she was instructing me to commit a heinous act.

“Oh, Goddess of the Moon! It seems I can never truly win with you, can I?” I replied with a mix of exasperation and amusement.

She let out a delightful giggle before her expression turned serious. Pushing strands of her long, curly brunette hair behind her ears, she revealed her heart-shaped face, which held a surprising beauty despite the freckles that sprinkled across her skin. Her aquiline nose added to her charm, complementing her thin, pinkish lips that always seemed ready to break into a smile. The most intriguing feature was the reddish flat round mole positioned at the center of her forehead, accentuating her uniqueness. To add a touch of whimsy, her hair was adorned with tiny, colorful, glittering strings.

On this occasion, she wore a dark gray dress, a hooded cape, and boots to shield herself from the cool spring air and to prevent easy recognition, particularly by her family or coven. She had managed to sneak out to meet me here tonight, intending to gift me the peach glimmering potion in celebration of my upcoming birthday.

“You do, at times, just like this one. You asked me for a strong potion that will hide your real identity from all supernatural beings without suppressing your wolf or your abilities. Do you know how many times I checked it so that nothing would go wrong once you imbibed it?”

I exhaled, glancing at the dark cave we were in. We didn’t use any light to be discreet. I could still see her with my special ability as a shifter, and she also enhanced her sense of sight through her magic.

“Well, I hope you won’t regret it. There are a lot of perks when you’re on your full-on powers as you are, F*k.”

“Kayna!”

“Fine! Kayna.” She glowered at me.

“Okay, what are the side effects?” I asked her, placing the vial inside the secret pocket of my spring dress. It was almost like a summer dress since I was not really bothered by the cold temperature due to my nature as a werewolf. My body heat was enough to warm me up when it was cold. Once I began shifting tomorrow on my birthday, I could have more access to greater strength and other werewolf abilities. But... there was this potion, of course.

My voluptuous friend peered at my oval and average-looking face. She tilted her face as I was naturally taller than most girls my age, while Relia had an average height of five feet and five inches. As a girl turning sixteen, I stood five feet and eight inches. She would most probably stay at that height forever, and I might shoot up another couple of inches in the next couple of years.

I blinked my yellowish brown eyes, waiting for her to speak. I took a lungful of air, sniffing her marguerite daisy fragrance—a floral woody musk scent. With my pretty good small straight nose, I could always detect her presence by her smell, whereas she couldn’t scent me. But I knew she could also track me by magic. She had given me a cool friendship bracelet made of a gold chain with tiny ruby stones attached to her magic.

“Well, you’ll be like a human until you find your mate and engage in the act. Once that happens, the potion will be rendered useless, and you’ll set yourself and your wolf free. Not to mention, other supernatural beings will know who or what you are.”

“Well, I think that’s good until then,” I commented without so much care.

“Are you serious? What if vampires appear and you’re having trouble? You said that Neb Er Tcher is against this!” she pointed out.

“Well, my narcissist and arrogant wolf can’t do anything. I am the owner of this body, so… my body, my rules!”

Relia’s jaw dropped. “I really hope you’ll not regret this, F*k.”

I gave her a death glare but sighed afterwards. “You know, I’d invite you to my birthday party tomorrow if only I could.”

She smiled at me. “It’s fine, really. We don’t want any unnecessary scenes, do we? Besides, you won’t stay long at your party.”

She and I grinned at each other.

***

Gusto mo bang mabasa ang Alpha Queen: To Whoreship You (Book 1) ni Darla Tverdohleb?
Mag-download na ng Dreame App at i-click ang https://www.dreame.com/story/809574912-alpha-queen--to-whoreship-you--book-1-

Download Dreame App here:
https://onelink.dreame.com/mOD1/DreameStory1

Do you want to be a Dreame signed author and earn from your Filipino and English? Please send us a PM on this page.
For more book recommendations, follow this page.
Join us on Tiktok. Download the app and use the code BF29661395. Don't forget to follow .ph.

🔥

It was Saturday, June 22, 2030—a summer night in the Bronx, New York City.
It was Bituin Lee’s birthday, but here she was, having a bare-knuckle underground fight. Her Caucasian opponent, called the “Ravager,” was a couple inches taller than her five feet and six inches height and maybe five kilograms or so heavier than her fifty-four kilograms weight. Nonetheless, Ravager’s left eyebrow already had a cut, and her face was bloody. Her black racer back crop top was wet with sweat and blood; and her green-and-black Muay Thai shorts stuck to her sweaty thighs. Also noticeably, some wet strands of her shoulder-length blond hair were stuck to her pointed face as her tie loosened. She then kept shoving the strands aside by her shoulder or the back of her hand.
Ravager panted while her two bloody hands, which wiped her face to get rid of the blood from flowing down her green eyes, were in front of her, ready to counterattack Bituin. Her shoulders moved up and down faster than normal as she breathed. She swallowed while double checking her mouthpiece, cheeks and lips moving.
Meanwhile, Bituin’s navy blue tank top and fitted gym shorts hugged her lean body tighter as sweat soaked it for having been fighting for over ten minutes now. They were on their third of the three-minute round, and they still had a couple more to go. She wasn’t cut, but she sure already had some bruises on her face and body. But these were nothing compared to Ravager’s. The half-Filipina and half-Korean twenty-four-year-old girl was already considered a seasoned underground fighter and was given the nickname “Phenomenon.” Sometimes, she was called “Fil-Ko-menon.” It sounded lame and a bit race-y—to her—though not to the point of being offensive.
She was born in California and had never been in her mother’s homeland. She had no relatives there, which was surprising since Filipinos had big families, and the same on her father’s side—none in South Korea. Sometimes, she thought her father was actually from the north and was a deserter, who wanted a better life in another country. She was really weirded by the lack of their relatives but who was she to question and doubt her parents? Their family was just that—small but scattered now.
Bituin had been an underground fighter since she was nineteen, when she left home after her parents divorced that same year. Her Filipina mother lived in San Francisco, California, working as a surgeon for a while now. On the other hand, her father lived in Albany, New York. He worked at a real estate company for a long time now as well.
She never knew the real reason why her parents divorced, but she guessed it was because of their respective professions since neither had remarried or had a partner ‘til now. They just drifted apart since Bituin was eight, and she noticed it. Her mother was always on call at the hospital, and her father was always on a business trip. As their only daughter, she found the separation so hard, painful and devastating—especially when her father finally moved to Albany.
She hadn’t finished her university because she happened to join the underground fight club when she arrived in New York City. A Black neighbor invited and brought her there as he was one of the underground fighters, and he thought she had potential.
How he knew she could fight was that he happened to see her at the park performing a kata (form) he’d never seen before, asking her where she learned it. She honestly told him her mother had a friend who was disciplined by TRACMA (Trovador Ramos Consolidated Martial Arts) and hence taught her since she was little for self-defense.
At first, Bituin thought joining the fight club was just for fun, to keep herself in good condition and had something or rather someone to vent out her negative emotions. But since then, she had no desire to finish up Psychology. She did dream to become a therapist someday, but that was ironic because of what she was doing now with her life.
Her thirty-ish Black friend went away weeks later, leaving her a note that he moved to another state to join his brother, who had set up a gym. He wished her good luck in the path she’d chosen. She thought it was really disappointing since she liked him—her first ever friend in New York.
Now, she tried to not get distracted by her sh*tty life. An oncoming straight punch was delivered hard and fast, but she was able to dodge in a millisecond. At the same time, she countered it with a left upper cut, hitting Ravager’s chin. The latter’s head was thrown backward, and she staggered. This made the audience go wild; hoots, shouts and whistles filled the ground floor of the abandoned building.
Bituin quickly moved forward to follow up with a right hook, which brought her opponent down the concrete ground. Ravager was knocked unconscious, while Bituin was hailed the winner.
The excited men and women in the audience tu-whit tu-whooed and shouted again, either clapping their hands, stomping their feet or crumpling the canned beers they were holding and either hurling them against the walls or dropping them to the floor. Maybe the latter ones bet on the Ravager.
Since Bituin’s fight was the last match that night, it was already past two in the morning. She made sure Ravager was okay despite her assaults earlier during the match, thankful that the blonde was a sport and was looking fine.
“Don’t worry. I’ll see my doctor first thing in the morning to be sure,” Ravager assured her, so she was relieved.
She made sure Ravager had her emergency appointment done through her smartwatch that had a Doc app.
Half an hour later, Bituin was one of those few that were about to leave the venue, after she got the money from the organizer and changed into fresh pants and shirt. Overhead, flying patrol cars passed by. However, it was dark where she parked her car, when suddenly, out of nowhere, someone assaulted her from behind. She was punched in the back of her head that made her stun and her vision swim. It seemed to her that her head suddenly swelled and heated up. And then, she was kicked hard in the back and heard her spinal crack, resulting to her small dark brown eyes become bigger. She slumped against the side of her car, while her unknown gigantic brawny assailant escaped without a trace.
“Open!” she commanded her automated car while moaning in pain. Her vision was fading in and out, trying to grasp the open door. “Call 911!” she added for the AI to contact.
She gasped, suddenly feeling numb, and had no idea what happened next. The female voice of the AI hadn’t registered to her as it said, “Dialing 911.”
A passing car passed by, stopped and reversed when she was noticed there lying on the ground next to her car and was immediately brought to the hospital.
Several hours later, she woke up in a hospital bed and couldn’t feel her legs.

Chapter 2: Dysfunctional Family

Bituin’s parents were there for her when she was in the hospital. Upon learning that she could not walk after her spinal injury, she cried day and night, feeling miserable. She had to stay in the hospital until the doctor released her, recommending her for an aggressive therapy, for faster recovery.
In spite of her parents being worried, she sent them away back to their own respective lives. “I’ll go for therapy starting tomorrow, all right? So, just leave me alone!” she said after her forty-nine-year-old father helped her in bed, tucking her in.
They just got in from the hospital. Her two-room apartment was luxurious enough because she had the money from her parents’ allowance sent to her every month and her money from the underground matches every weekend and some on weeknights, depending on her mental and physical state. She earned at least five or six grand per fight. It wasn’t so much really, given that she had busted lip and got beaten up for it. But for her, it was something. It was practically blood money. And yet, she didn’t care for as long as she loved the matches. It gave her the thrill and enjoyment. It made her feel more alive. There, she was surrounded by many people who cheered for her and loved her.
Han-Gyeol turned to look at his ex-wife Nieves, hands on his waist, and sighed. “Can you believe our daughter is telling us to go while she’s in this kind of situation? Tell me you’re not hearing this!” He gestured his hand in annoyance.
Bituin eyed her tall, lean and still-handsome father. He had this youthful face and features that she mostly inherited, except for her mother’s eye color. Her father’s orbs were small with almond shape and black in color.
Instead of answering Han-Gyeol Nieves walked over to the bedside table and turned the lampshade dimmer, maybe to just have something to do while her ex-husband gave her a frustrated stare. She ignored it and reached for Bituin’s head to gently stroke her hair. Then, she leaned down to kiss her daughter’s forehead.
“Why aren’t we supposed to be here? Maybe it’s better if you’ll come with me or your father. You can just choose, Bibi,” her mother gently spoke to her, calling her by her mom’s favorite endearment.
Bituin scoffed and slapped the mattress. “Mom! I’m all grown up, and I don’t even need to choose between you and Dad! How could you ask me that?”
“Your assailant is still out there, Bibi,” Han-Gyeol pointed out.
Right, her father also called her that. His voice was soft, and she closed her eyes tightly for a second or two.
“We don’t know if he meant to kill you or not. We can’t take any chances, Bibi,” her father added, stepping closer to her queen size bed that was covered by a sheet of checkered white and blue colors.
“Dad, if he did want to kill me, I wouldn’t have been alive by now. I’m sure he just wanted me to be… like this.” She swallowed the non-existent big lump in her throat and looked away. She heard her father draw a deep breath through his nose.
“Bibi, we don’t know that.” Her father shook his dark head. “The police are investigating your case as we have requested, but right now, they’re at a dead end! There were no cameras around that area where you were found. You were lucky someone brought you to the hospital because your car couldn’t lift you up from the ground on its own! Not to mention, you’re fortunate enough the police don’t know you’re involved with the mob! How could you be so thoughtless about joining such a fight club, huh? Can’t you fight legally? There’s the UFC, MMA and boxing if you want!” her father sermonized in frustration, running his fingers through his short hair.
Bituin ground her teeth. She knew they wouldn’t understand why she was doing this. It wasn’t her plan to be involved at first, but the thrill was there. She got addicted to it. They had to move venues everytime so that the police wouldn’t be able to catch them.
Her forty-eight-year-old mother looked at her with scolding eyes. “This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t run away from home! And what? You thought I didn’t and wouldn’t know what you were doing up here just because I always send you money? You have no idea how worried I am everytime I think of you, Bituin Lee! I’m your mother for heaven’s sake!” Nieves’ voice went higher than expected. She always had gentle voice as far as Bituin could remember.
The paraplegic averted her gaze and set her jaw tight. “Yes, you are but you are barely there for me since I was little. You and Dad both always left me with a nanny, who didn’t even take good care of me!”
Her parents’ jaws dropped. “What?”
“You never told us about this then,” her mother uttered. Confusion registered in her not-so-beautiful face.
Bituin winced. “Would’ve it made a difference? I was always alone anyway, and now, I prefer it that way.” She held back her tears as the back of her eyes heated up. She moved her head away from her parents’ inquiring and probing gazes, and she heard them sigh almost simultaneously.
***
Bituin didn’t want to think she won when she told her parents she wanted to be left alone. However, her parents did leave a couple days after staying with her in her apartment, making sure she had everything she needs and that she’d be comfortable. Her father bought her a new hover car that was wheelchair-friendly and driverless, which was programmed to bring her back and forth the institution, since she chose to go there instead of home therapy. Sure, she could use the car wherever she wanted to go, but for the time being, that was the main setting.
It was the first time all three of them were together in one place after her parents divorced. When they left and went back to their respective homes, Bituin was again left on her own. Admittedly, she did miss them already and loved the days when she was still in the hospital with them taking care of her in every possible way they could, despite their presence that wasn’t really needed there as nurses and robots took turns to take care of her and her needs.
Now Bituin’s sweat beaded on her forehead as she listened to the AI that gave her instructions and tried to follow them. Her head had a ring that snugly fitted it, which monitored her brain activities while doing the exercises. Her legs up to the waist were supported by thin alloys that were connected to the ring on her head by a program and the implant in her spinal to monitor her progress. The implant was supposed to have healed her in a matter of few weeks or months of therapy. However, the therapists and doctors were astounded of the negative results that showed from the tests after six months.
She was actually a puzzle to them.
Feeling frustrated, Bituin decided to stop going to the therapy. It was her last day here. For over six months she’d been coming in and out of the physical therapy institution every single day, she began to lose hope as nothing improved.
Her wheelchair was set automatically to go to the parking lot. She would go home and rest and maybe stay in her apartment forever—until her last breath. Her heart was too heavy, and her eyes stung. She sniffled, not wanting people to see her weakness or sullen mood. She’d just wallow in her depression when she’d be home, away from possible prying eyes. She didn’t want their concern either as nothing could change in her situation.
Just before her wheelchair was going to climb up on the ramp at the backseat of her silver-colored hover car, a huge man appeared behind her and dropped a little white card on her lap. She thought he must’ve dropped it unintentionally. She picked it up and was about to return it. But to her amazement, the said person was gone in a flash.
She looked around, but he was nowhere to be seen. She then peered down at the little card with a phone number on it. Her almost straight brows knitted.
Why is there no name here?
When she was settled in the backseat, she commanded the AI. “Call this number,” and dictated it.
“Quasi-Spectra Pharmaceutical Research Facility. How may I help you?”
Bituin heard a woman’s voice. A human, not an AI’s. She had no idea, but her heart skipped a beat.

Chapter 3: Injenite

“Hello? Hello? Are you still there?”
The woman’s voice reached Bituin’s ears for the second time when she hadn’t spoken aside from the word “Hello.”
“Y-yes. I am here. I-I think I called the wrong number,” she muttered slowly and haltingly and decided to hang up.
The woman held her up before she could, saying, “Oh, really? I think that’s quite impossible. Everyone who calls this number must know we’re recruiting patients for the late-stage clinical trial for the drug that we’re having a research on. I’m Dr. Smith. If you need help, you can tell me.”
Bituin’s brows furrowed, glancing at the other hover cars flying around that late afternoon. Not so long ago, there weren’t these many until this year. Air traffic regulations were immediately set up when personal flying commenced a few years ago. Flying cars still didn’t come cheap, so she was lucky her father could afford one for her even though she didn’t ask for it. To her, it was a luxury. She was fine with her automated car, which ran by electric power. However, she had to sell it as it was not wheelchair-friendly, and she now had a hover car.
Irrational it may be, she did tell her parents not to send her monthly allowance anymore, explaining she had savings and that she had invested in some stocks and was into bitcoin mining. But it was all a lie. She just didn’t want her parents to support her anymore because of what happened to her—the consequence of that underground fight she was involved with. Her mother was right. If she didn’t do it in the first place, she wouldn’t be in this depressing situation.
The soft humming of the hover car’s engine filled the silence for a few seconds. “W-what kind of drug, if I may ask?” Bituin finally queried, not knowing why her heart pumped hard because of anticipation.
“We call it Injenite,” Dr. Smith answered smoothly. “It is an injectable drug containing nanites that can cure paralytics no matter the type or degree of paralysis—partial, complete, permanent, temporary, flaccid or spastic.”
Bituin slightly inhaled audibly when she heard it.
“We are very optimistic that the late-stage clinical trial will produce ninety-nine percent success. It’s truly high, so we are excited to recruit more subjects for this test and help them live a normal life again,” Dr. Smith proceeded.
“H-how can one be recruited in this clinical trial?” she asked and gulped hard, blinking a few times.
There was a little pause on the other end. “Do you want to participate in this experiment?” Dr. Smith inquired straightforwardly.
Bituin took a deep breath and nodded as though the other woman could see her. “Y-yes. What should I do?”
“First, we need to see if you’re eligible for it. If you are, we need to inform you about the pros and cons of this clinical trial and ask for your consent, so we need you to sign some papers. And then, our staff will pick you up at your address, or the nearest place you prefer. You can sign the papers here at the lab if you want me to put you on the list right now.”
The woman continued to mumble on some other stuff with regards to the subject, and Bituin felt an excitement she’d never felt while being in this tragic suffering from paraplegia. She was overwhelmed by the possibilities that Dr. Smith promised her. There was no need for surgery, so it was a good thing for Bituin, who was afraid to undergo it. Maybe the only surgeon she could trust was her mother, who was a neurosurgeon. Nieves was also considered as a seasoned one and had helped a lot of patients.
***
It was around seven in the evening when a black van stopped in front of Bituin’s apartment building. She was at the parking lot, in her wheelchair, and waited for the Quasi-Spectra Pharmaceutical staff to arrive, despite the January wintry night. She hadn’t waited for long though, and her thick black winter coat protected and kept her warm.
Two large men came out, bearing a uniform of the company’s staff, and showed her their IDs. They helped her into the van, while the driver waited for the door to be closed and drove off. The snow was in heaps near the sidewalks.
It was a long drive to the outskirts of the city. Bituin made small conversations with the guys who were polite to talk with her.
“Am I the only one going in tonight?” she asked the bald-headed guy to her right.
“Yes, ma’am, but some are already at the research facility for the tests.”
“Do I need tests?”
“Yes, ma’am, and Dr. Smith will take care of you.”
She slightly nodded and transferred her gaze outside the window. The bald head then mumbled something to the guy who was seated behind her. She noticed a five-story building they were heading to. It was made of concrete and glass, and its lights were on. The one next to it was a high-rise one with a modern design. It had the company’s name and logo in front of it, which had neon lights of blue.
The van entered the basement and parked there. Then Bituin in her wheelchair was gently pushed by the bald guy into an elevator, going to level three basement.
Dr. Smith in her long white lab coat was waiting for them, and the short-haired silver-haired woman in her fifties greeted her. They went into a small white room, which had bright lights. As soon as the door was closed, the staff left the two of them inside.
Bituin’s eyes swept the room. There was a white bed to the far right while a cabinet was set opposite it, against the wall. The smell here was clean and fresh to her surprise, and the temperature was warm and comfortable. She did notice one CCTV camera in the left topside corner, which viewed the entire room.
“We’ll do the preliminary tests first after you finished signing these papers. Please read them carefully before you sign them. I’ll give you time for it, and I’ll be right back. All right?” Dr. Smith smiled at her before leaving her alone in the room.
Bituin hadn’t seen anyone like her in the facility since she came in. It was quiet and spotless. She didn’t know what to expect, however, since she had no idea what a research facility would look like. She decided to check the papers on the small table and thought it was all fine, so she signed them without hesitation.
If the trial was a failure, she was going to receive a large sum of money that would take care of her for lifetime. She thought it was not so bad. Given that she had a miserable life to begin with, what could go wrong except to die, which she was all ready to accept than to suffer for the rest of her life? This way, her parents could get rid of a stubborn daughter who was a paraplegic, and they could move on with their lives and maybe even start a new family each. And yet, it was a bitter and foreboding thought to contemplate on.
Bituin was brought to another room for different tests. Her vital signs were taken and monitored; blood tests were also ran; her paraplegia was re-diagnosed by running X-ray, CT scan, MRI, myelography, EMG and spinal tap tests; and her brain activities were checked. It was not only Dr. Smith who was present there but also others that assisted the older woman. Bituin could only guess these were her colleagues in the Injenite research.
She was unaware she had to stay for more than a couple days until all the test results came back, and Dr. Smith told her everything was fine—and bad—as it could be, considering the state she was in. Well, the bad part was not a surprise anymore. Still, the retelling of her medical condition in another setting pained her. But at least, she was given more hope this time.
“Are you ready for the test, Miss Lee?” the Caucasian research head asked as they entered the first room she was brought into, together with the bald guy.
Wearing only a white sleeveless fitted tank top paired with white loose pants, she was then laid down on the narrow white bed, on her right side.
She nodded and replied, “Yes.”
Dr. Smith glanced at her tattoo on her left arm. It was a rosary in black ink; the bead string wound around her arm, and the cross dangled.
“Just have faith that everything will be fine.” The researcher then went over to the glass cabinet and took the big syringe. “This drug will drug will most probably cure you before you even wake up, Miss Lee.”
Bituin felt the sharp sting when the center of her nape was pierced by the big needle. A tear rolled down her left eye, crossing down the bridge of her pert nose and continuing to roll down the other side of her cheek.
Not a few more seconds passed by, Bituin was sucked into oblivion. She had no idea how long she was out, but when she awoke, she immediately realized it wasn’t the room she was in, in the research facility.

Gusto mo bang mabasa ang The Interstellar Slave by Darla Tverdohleb?

Mag-download na ng Dreame App at i-click ang link:
https://m.dreame.com/novel/1201872896.html

Download Dreame App here:
https://onelink.dreame.com/mOD1/DreameStory1

Do you want to be a Dreame signed author and earn from your Filipino and English? Please send us a PM on this page.

For more book recommendations, follow this page.
Join us on Tiktok. Download the app and use the code BF29661395. Don't forget to follow .ph.