Chapter 8

Lyla reached out to touch the spines with her finger, her limbs shaky from the strain of being an estrus. The fact that he had dragged her into the Undercroft was evidenced by the fact that it was cold in that dark, windowless basement. She deserted her investigation and searched out her garments... just to observe that every destroyed piece was no more. She would prefer to confront Kieran's rage for wearing his dress without authorization than stick around stripped like an odalisque. Lyla found a sweater that looked like a dress on her much smaller frame after digging through the modest dresser in the room. Pulling the dim thing over her head, she was feeling better to find it perfect, the article of clothing holding just the slightest hint of his fragrance. Stomach thundering, she started to pace, her eyes accidentally looking toward the piece of the room immersed in the dried stink of their consolidated estrous emanations: her home. Lyla had constructed them before in segregation — it was a fanatical piece of the intensity cycle, everything organized just so. Covers, pads, and all framing the shape that most appropriately represents the omega. That made the females, or in the unprecedented exemption, the omega males, have a good sense of reassurance. Homes had consistently captivated her, and she knew precisely where each piece ought to fit. She took solace in lying in the completed item, even though the ones she had raised in isolation never reproduced. Betas never nested. What's more, base alphas, or so she'd heard, would mount any omega without permitting the home, in a furor to start the cultivating. Legitimate alphas grasped the need. In addition to the usual things that were already on his bed, Kieran had allowed her to build it and provided additional blankets and materials. He'd even attempted to help, hunched, stripped next to her, pulling texture and lightning pads to hand to her. She had snarled and pulled his hands away when he had become too involved. She worked at the nest. He was the leader; His only responsibility was to spit on her. Her first mated nest was not supposed to make her weep every time she foolishly glanced in its direction; rather, it was supposed to be something truly exceptional, a cherished memory. There was nothing all that amazing about the liquid-crusted, tacky game plan she had awakened in. Lyla looked away with a frown before screaming. She could see the door, a metal barrier preventing her from breathing air that didn't smell of sex. Pacing once more, she attempted to consistent the flood of frightfulness in her stomach. Her skin was itching unbearably because there were no windows; she was trapped underground, and she didn't know whether it was day or night. Even her position about the Dome was a mystery to her. She wanted more and more to leave the room as she walked its length. She hurried to the entryway and attempted the handle, realizing it would be locked yet expecting to feel the steadfast metal with her fingers. She had no choice but to yell. A sad whimper from a hopeful individual. Someone about it to panic. She was a prisoner who was tied to a man she did not know, she was hungry, she was scared, and she was suffering from an unwelcome thought that would not go away no matter how hard she tried to will it to. Lyla was stretched out on the floor and looking glassy at the ceiling when her captor returned. Kieran sneezed and grunted, "You have been troubled." Since you are ravenous?" Lyla glanced past his massive legs to the now-unlocked door and imagined she might make a run for it now that she had freedom, blinking at the ceiling to see if he could feel what she was thinking. "I see," he snarled, eyes restricted to cuts. As the breath left her lungs, she conceded, "I'm exceptionally ravenous." He crouched over her and noticed that under her scowl, her green eyes had changed. You awoke earlier than I expected." She wanted to shout a million different things. Instead, all she did was let out a melancholy sigh. I don't have any idea what season of day it is." "It is the late morning hour. Soon, the food will arrive. "Grand." Returning to the cement ceiling, Lyla's attention returned. The man even brushed her pouting lips with his fingers. Do you want to get married?" She quickly responded, still terrified from the previous agonizing coupling, "I do not." Lyla could not resist the urge to flee, fearing that doing so would only encourage him to chase and repeat the act. Kieran's eyes became smug, with a few crinkles at the corners. Her scowl slightly softened in response to the gentlest purr. She was irritated by the unconscious reaction, which was made worse by the fact that his hand had burrowed into her hair and was gently pulling at the roots, closing her eyes mechanically with the wave of contentment that came with each small tug. She was a puddle on the floor when a loud knock came at the door. While his Follower set out a tray, Kieran continued to pet his familiar beta as he called for her to enter. Lyla wasn't sure if he did it to show off to another nearby man, be possessive, or just to make her feel better. Most likely all three. They were back by themselves. The monster gave her a poke to open her eyes, positioning his head toward the table. " Eat." He demanded helping her stand, making her touch him more than she needed. Lyla noticed that there was only food for her when she looked at the tempting-smelling tray. He kept a close eye on her throughout the meal, noting the tiniest details of her movements like a predator would. She ate what was given, despite her dislike for canned green beans. Upon tasting the ham, she hummed. Her lips slightly curled as she took a sip from the milk glass. There was a pill on the plate, a thing she had seen, then, at that point, neglected — too got up to speed in a genuine warm feast. It was pinched by Kieran's large hands and held out for her to take. "What does it mean?" Lyla inquired while covering her mouth.