I'm being burned alive from the inside out, I'm sure of it. The room is sweltering, my skin is covered with sweat; it drips down my face and arms, running along the length of my back. I'm fading in and out as every second passes, and the aches in me are profound; hips, glands, between my thighs.
Damien removes my chains but not my gag, and after he parts the fray he leads me to where he's been seated; right in the center of the head table in the largest, most luxurious chair.
"You can sit with me, my sweet love," he says, pulling me onto his lap, and I moan softly to feel the hardness of his cock beneath me. I rub against it, wanting it; needing it -
Ravenous for it. I want it so deep inside and taking away this endless, pulsing ache; this terrible hunger and emptiness. All of my other thoughts have burned away in the face of this compulsion, and I'm mindless and blind to maintaining my dignity or distance -
I am nothing but physical need now that my heat has truly started to take hold.
Taking my hand, Damien gently places it on his cock, encouraging me to stroke him. "Is that what you want, my Kyle? Is that what you need?"
I nod, touching and feeling; suddenly fascinated to experience the sensation of the length hidden beneath his clothes. It's so very hard, and the memory of it being in me, filling me, makes me nuzzle close, nosing at the glands in his throat. He growls lowly, clearly pleased with my abrupt change of attitude.
"They can all see you," he murmurs, indicating the crowd. "They can all see my pretty omega acting like a little slut... doesn't that bother you?"
I shake my head, saliva making my lips wet; dripping. I want to taste him...I need him to devour me. He bites my shoulder softly and touches my curls, almost in a reverent way.
"I think we should have dinner before retiring to our room," he says, "After all, this party is for you and it's barely begun. We don't want to be rude, do we?"
I whine loudly and he shushes me, running a finger over one of my nipples, making it harden under his touch. I shiver, and rub closer to him.
"You'll eat from my hand, even though you aren't shackled, and you will behave," he says, stroking my back. "Is that understood?"
I want to beg him to fuck me, not eat dinner, but somewhere in my haze I know what can happen if I go against him. Reluctantly, I nod.
"Sweet one," he says, undoing my gag and setting it aside. I swiftly wipe the wetness from my mouth, and he watches with eyes that seem to eat me alive. He touches my swollen bottom lip, smiling when I try to suck on his finger.
"We'll find a way to keep you occupied while your alpha finishes, but first," he says, plucking up a cluster of red grapes; he twists one off and offers it to me, pushing it between my lips. I accept it and slide my tongue over his finger.
Drawing back, he offers me another grape, and once again i accept it, sucking on him. My cock is becoming harder, and soon he reaches to cup it, and I instinctively spread to give him better access.
"Naughty thing," he murmurs, gathering the fluid glistening on me. He offers it to me and I greedily suck it away, relishing the saltiness; my desire intensifying at tasting my own arousal. "And look how wet you are," he adds, spreading slick over my thighs. I nuzzle him, searching for his aroma and finding it, letting it calm me.
"I would like you to kneel beside me, I think," he muses. "I'll feed you and the others can admire how pretty you are, and then we'll decide how to keep you entertained when you're done."
I resist slightly when he has me slide from his lap, but soon I'm kneeling next to his chair, and he feeds me little morsels; bits of chicken, vegetables; more sweet fruit, allowing me to lick his fingers clean. He praises me softly, only becoming stern when my posture comes into question.
"Back arched slightly, head up, part your thighs a little more...I want to be able to see you, and so do the guests," he says, placing a strawberry slice on my tongue. "There, that's better."
They're still watching me, all of them, the Alphas that swarmed me while I was chained. Their hands and tongues woke something up inside of me, and now I'm seeing the world through a veil over my eyes; soft, red; urges that are primal and usually ignored are rearing their heads. My Heat is working its way through my bones, swimming in my blood, and I almost feel powerful because of it; released from my normal fears and worries.
"Drink," Damien says, placing a cup to my lips and tipping sweet red wine into my mouth. I lap it up, begging for more. He laughs softly and scratches behind my ear. "Greedy."
I finish the whole glass and I can feel it spreading warm down my throat and into my stomach.
"Would you like more to eat, my love?" he asks.
"No, thank you," I say, rubbing my head against his leg. "Can we go back to our room now?"
He stares for a moment, a wild spark lighting in his eyes, and his pleasure is evident by his aroma; thick and circling me, announcing his arousal and heightening aggression. He maintains control though.
"Not yet," he replies. "I'll decide when we leave. Omegas don't make those sorts of decisions, but, i can offer something to hold you over. It might even help you to relax."
I rise onto my knees and place my head in his lap. "Yes, please, please."
He sighs. "You're so sweet this way, aren't you?" Lifting my head, he begins to undo his slacks, sliding the zipper down. I watch, mesmerized, moving away when he spreads his thighs. He implores me to kneel between them and I do. He draws out his cock, hard and thick, and I can see the cum on the tip like translucent pearls.
"Open," he says. When I do, he gently guides my mouth onto him, and he settles heavily across my tongue. He draws a deep breath, placing a hand on the back of my head. I try to suck but he clucks his tongue, garnering my attention. "No, you'll just hold me like this, warm in your mouth. It'll please me and I think it will relax you to focus on nothing else. Can you do that for me, my Kyle?"
Hazily, I look up at him and nod carefully. His musk is strong and taking over my senses, calming me somewhat but also making me hotter between my legs. I reach to touch myself but he clucks again, sterner now.
"You don't touch yourself without my explicit permission. Will I need to bind your hands?"
Trembling, I shake my head. He curls a hand behind my ear, stroking. "Be still, I won't punish you so long as you obey, now calm yourself while I finish."
I attempt to obey, to please, but I'm very aware of my needs, the slick trickling from me; my exposed backside on full display for a roomful of guests. I flush hotly, already so feverish, and my cock twitches between my thighs, begging to be stroked. Worst of all is the clawing ache of needing more than anything to be filled, knotted; fucked until I'm screaming and raw; possibly bloody from how forcefully I'm mounted.
I whine softly before I can help it and Damien slides his fingers through my curls, shushing me under his breath.
"Calm," he says, drinking wine. He pulls me closer so more of his cock is in my mouth, and I try to focus on how large it is, the way it tastes; its satisfying weight, and before I know it I'm starting to drift, falling into a place in my mind that I don't visit very often. I almost feel safe, at the very least content, even if my body is pleading to be taken - soon.
"Very obedient, isn't he?" an unfamiliar voice speaks somewhere behind me but I don't try to look at their face. "Sitting there so quietly, not even fidgeting."
"Yes, he's doing beautifully," Damien says, petting me. I begin to purr quietly.
"So adorable," the other Alpha comments. "It was so generous of you to share him with us... but I have to say only having a taste is going to be very frustrating."
Damien chuckles, clearly drinking in the envy of others. "A taste is all you'll have, I'm afraid."
"Even if I were to make an offer?"
Damien's thighs tense, gripping me a little tighter. "An offer."
"Yes, a generous one, of course. Merely to spend a few hours alone with the dear one."
Slowly, Damien sets down his fork before replying, and his scent is changing. I stop purring, whining softly, but he finds that spot behind my ear and strokes it; nails grazing. I quiet myself.
"What an unseemly proposition," he says in a controlled tone, but it's soft. Warning. "I certainly hope this is a clumsy attempt at humor on your behalf."
I sense the other Alpha's tension behind me, and I scoot closer to Damien, wanting to climb into his lap.
"I assure you, I was not intending to offend you, Thorne, but you have to understand-"
"I would ask that you stop insulting me in my home during what is supposed to be a special occasion," Damien cuts him off. "And you're frightening my omega. That is not something I take lightly."
Mouth wet, I slide my tongue beneath Damien's cock, wanting to show I'm grateful for the way he's protecting me but he pays me no mind.
"I apologize emphatically," the Alpha says, but I can tell his words are steeped in bitterness. "I meant no harm."
Damien picks up his fork again. "Very well, but I should like to eat in peace, if I may."
"Of course, excuse me."
Damien is still unsettled after this conversation, his displeasure evident in his scent, his posture; his touch and voice isn't as soft now. I try to be as still and obedient as possible, beginning to drift again until my eyes close.
I become lost in my head as the party continues, soft voices in the distance and the sound of forks scraping plates; all the while keeping Damien warm. The fires start to recede little by little but the gnawing void within me doesn't go away. Every now and then I shift slightly, mouth dripping, but I keep the hard cock on my tongue; cradling it to please him.
"Sweet love," he says eventually, parting my reverie until my eyes open, and he's holding my face; stroking my cheeks with his thumbs. I look up and meet his eyes, and I'm happy to see that he's relaxed again. "Are you ready to retire to our chambers?"
I nod, only taking my mouth off of him when he guides me to, and I keep kneeling as he bids farewell to his guests. Some of them speak to me and I blush, becoming shy, which only seems to please them more.
"They adore you," Damien says, snapping his fingers and accepting my cloak when Bebe brings it over. He wraps it around me and I stand, falling against him because my legs have gone numb from kneeling for so long.
He lifts me and I quickly rub my cheek against him, resting my head on his chest. He kisses my curls and carries me from the room.
I fully expect to be taken as soon as we're back in our chambers, but Damien takes me to the bathroom instead.
"Their scent is on you," he explains, running a bath. He adds salts to it that smell of vanilla. "Come to me."
I do, standing before him as he sits on the edge of the large tub, and he pulls me closer, his hands low on my hips. He kisses my stomach before slipping his fingers under the band of my panties.
"Pretty thing," he murmurs, reaching to slide his hand to cover my cock, the other spreading my backside and stroking my entrance. I almost sob at the sensation, and the fire in me begins to rekindle. He breathes deeply. "Soon you'll be completely gone... you won't even be able to think straight."
I gasp, rutting against his hand shamelessly. "I already can't really think... everything is a fog..."
"Good," he says, taking his hands away to begin pulling the panties down, slowly; clearly trying to tease me as I start to tremble.
"Please," I whisper, closing my eyes.
"Please, I need you to," I say, trailing off because articulating the want is much more difficult than feeling it. "It's going to start hurting again... because I'm empty. I'm so empty."
He considers me, running a cool hand up the inside of my thigh, stopping to linger over my clover for a moment. "Patience," he tells me, and his eyes resemble fresh, open wounds, and I know that this is going to be another test.
I can't help but whimper, afraid of the pain waiting for me, that'll grow and steal my voice. I want to beg, but I'm still aware of myself enough to hold back, but I'm falling so quickly, and Damien knows it -
He can smell it. He can feel it in my skin and see it in my eyes. I turn to the mirror and can see the gold growing in them, my irises bright.
Squeezing my ankle, Damien silently commands me to lift my foot so he can slide the panties off, repeating this action with the other side before untying my sandals as well. He takes my hand and helps me into the bath, which is hotter than I'd prefer, but in my state of mind I simply sink and wait to be washed.
He's careful with me, but thorough, washing my hair and rubbing me down everywhere with a soft cloth. I try to press against his hand whenever I can, trying to get some relief as I dissolve further into my instincts.
"You did so well," he says. "You made me proud... and for the most part those animals minded their manners even if some felt the need to make suggestions that were completely unacceptable."
I glance at him, foggy and starting to pant, the heat building and seeming to be climbing up, up...a crescendo on the horizon. Damien's eyes are brightening, but his manner is one of quiet anger again.
"You let them touch me," I say faintly. "Why does it bother you that they want to be with me, too?"
"No one will have you that way except for me," he replies, giving me a look of thinly veiled contempt. I shrink away but he grabs my arm. "I have to live with the fact that you've been with someone else. Do you understand just how hard that is for me to accept?"
He shakes me hard. "Do you? Say something."
I become lax as my head is consumed with more fog, swirling and red. "I can't...I don't know. I barely remember anything... I'm sorry. My mind -"
"Yes, yes... you aren't really yourself right now, are you? It isn't fair to ask you these sorts of questions, I suppose," he says, digging his nails into my skin. "But one has to wonder if what I'm seeing right now is the true Kyle and the other is just a facade...I mean, only a greedy, filthy slut would run off and offer himself to another Alpha, knowing he already belongs to someone else. Isn't that so?"
I whimper, trying to pull away because the pain he's causing is starting to feel too good. It's too real, and it makes me want more, but he keeps denying me. His words also touch on something in my brain, deep in the recesses that have been pulled back into the darkness; memories, sweet ones. They are full of light and affection, and I start to cry quietly.
"It wasn't that," I manage to say. "I was looking for something else, something important."
"Oh, and what was that?"
I shake my head, pressing my hand to my temple where a thrumming ache is growing and stealing my thoughts away. "I can't remember... it's all mixing together."
"How convenient for you," he mutters, finally letting me go. I sag against the tub, panting. Watching me, he seems to be considering something before he smiles again, but there's a quality to it that makes prickles crop up along my back. "Well, let's get you out of there and situated, shall we?"
I'm dried and brought to bed, but Damien doesn't dress me in anything.
"I like you this way for now," he says, turning me away to grab at my backside, running a finger through the slick still dripping from me; becoming more pronounced. "Slutty little thing."
Pressing back against him, I try to indicate my intense need to be taken, but he denies me again, kneeling to snap my chain around my ankle. He leaves my hands free before going to sit in front of the fire. He opens a book - a different one than what we'd been reading together - and begins to read quietly, paying no attention to me.
I'm at a loss as to what I'm supposed to do, so I just stand for a moment, aching and watching. Finally, I walk over to him slowly, my chain dragging loudly on the floor in the quiet.
"Is there something you needed, my love?" he asks without looking up.
I can't speak for a moment. Damien knows what I need, he has to. I wouldn't be surprised if he deliberately exposed me to so many Alphas at once just to perpetuate my heat, and now he's acting like I'm not even here.
"Yes?" he looks up, placing a finger in the book before closing it.
I flush, biting my lip. Once again, talking about the need to be fucked is so difficult, even in this state of mind.
And I'm sure he knows that. Trying to appear strong despite the pain, i just shake my head.
"Nothing, I guess."
He smiles slowly and opens his book again. "Well, just let me know, love."
Turning away, I'm not sure what to do with myself, and I'm leaking slick profusely. I'm hard as well, and there's pain growing exponentially in my hips, my bones... simply everywhere. Hands twitching, I pace for a while and try to find the safe place in my head that I'd found before, but it eludes me.
I glance at Damien on occasion and I can feel a thread of anger towards him, but it's minimal compared to the strength of my desire and need.
"Perhaps you should try to make yourself more comfortable," he suggests, turning a page. "You seem so restless, my dear."
I say nothing. He's goading me, I know, and if I were in a different frame of mind I'd attack him, but all I can do is try to smooth my breaths and ignore what's happening inside of me. I glance toward the bed and my hands twitch again.
Soon I've pulled all the blankets off and thrown them on the floor, close to the wall so I can build my nest with something solid to press it against; creating more security. I breathe in the aroma clinging to them, feeling some relief because it smells of Alpha - of Damien. It's thick and seems virile, almost protective, and I bury my face in the blankets so I'm surrounded by it.
I hear movement behind me and look to see Damien there, watching. He seems amused, eyes sharpening as they become more and more bright.
"Do you need more blankets?"
Letting out a quiet whine, I crawl from my nest and go to him, rubbing my face against his legs, trying to cover him in my scent. My glands are full, and i wince when they're pressed.
He allows this before kneeling to smooth a hand over my cheek. I lean into it and then he's touching between my legs. I moan, louder than before; less ashamed about announcing that I like this, that I want more.
"Lovely," he says, gathering slick on his fingers, placing them in my mouth so I can taste myself. "Don't you taste good, my love?"
Mouth wet, I nod.
"Do you ache, my Kyle?" he asks, smile widening.
"Yes, so much," I reply thickly. "Everywhere."
He considers this. "Is it unbearable, though?"
I whine, wanting to lie, but i know what he'll do to me if I lie. I think. I shake my head.
"Give it time, then. You'll get there." He kisses my cheek. "For now I believe it's time for bed."
Mouthing wordlessly, I grope for him but he moves away. I watch as he readies for bed, dismayed and overwhelmed.
"Will you be sleeping in your little nest tonight?" he asks, throwing a blanket on the bed that he retrieved from the closet.
I don't know how to answer until I feel myself nodding. At least here I'm comfortable and feel closed in; something I seem to crave during a heat. If I tried to sleep next to Damien I'd probably go crazy with longing, knowing he's there but refusing to take care of me yet.
"If that would make you happy," he says, lying down and turning out the light. "Goodnight, my darling."
I manage to sleep after a very long time of tossing and turning, but I'm awoken late at night to shivering, unspeakable pain running all through my veins. I lie in my nest for a few agonizing moments before I begin to whine softly, and I can smell my arousal and fear saturating everything.
Damien continues to sleep undisturbed, his deep, even breaths coming to me in the darkness, and I clutch my middle where the emptiness feels the worst, and try to talk myself through the agony.
"Oh, please," I whisper, biting hard on my lip to stifle myself, but soon my hand is creeping between my thighs where it's so hot and sensitive, and I'm rubbing desperately; my other hand spreading myself and sinking into my entrance, providing very little relief.
I sob quietly, writhing now, trying to achieve some sort of calm, and the way I'm stroking myself feels so good even if it isn't what I'm craving -
I've never really touched myself like this before. It's strange and I'm clumsy with my movements, but the pressure is building in me, and I know I'm going to let go soon, and I want it so, so much; I'm frantic for it.
"Didn't I tell you you're forbidden to touch yourself without my permission?"
Becoming still, I look up, and through the haze in my head I can see Damien standing over me, eyes snapping with fury; jaw set and tight. I take my hands quickly away and sit up, trying to back away; hitting the wall and cowering.
"It hurts, I can't stand it anymore," I say, my voice cracking. "Please, I'm so empty!"
"If you had obeyed i would've taken care of you right now," he replies, leaving my line of sight. "And after I did you a favor by not shackling your hands. Well, clearly, my compulsion to trust you was premature."
Coming back, he holds up the manacles and I try to scurry away, but he catches me by the ankle and draws me back; immobilizing me with a hand on my nape, squeezing hard.
"Be still, you earned this for deliberately disobeying," he mutters, pulling my hands behind my back and shackling them. "Get on your knees and bend over so your face is on the floor."
"Please, I can't. I just want -"
He raises his hand and I flinch, moving to do what he commanded. Awkwardly, I get on my knees and bend until my cheek is pressed to the cold, hard floor.
"Spread your thighs and arch your back."
Closing my eyes, I obey.
"Good. You're going to stay in this position until I decide you've learned to listen."
I start to cry harder, opening my eyes and gasping. "I can't! I need you!"
"You need me to what?"
Sobbing, I can barely speak when I crumble into nothing, and all the pain and need is converging on me in a sea of heat and torment. "I need you to fuck me, Damien! I need your knot! Please!"
He walks slowly over until I can see his feet. I strain to look up and he's watching me passively despite the fire burning in his eyes. I can smell his arousal, his anger, and it's like I'm being taunted; only making me hungrier, the slick falling down the backs of my thighs.
"You will stay as you are until I decide to relieve you of your pain," he murmurs. "I told you I was going to make you learn. I haven't forgotten even if you have."
"No," I sob. "I can't, I can't -"
"You will," he cuts me off, a little more gently now. Reaching, he strokes a hand along the curve of my back. I moan but he moves away. "You can endure. Maybe this will help you realize what i felt like when you ran away... how deeply it hurt."
Sobbing harder, I want to reach for him, go to him, but i dare not move. I wait, crying out for him, my body coiled with need as I suplicate myself to please him; to crawl back into his twisted favor.
"You may cry but don't speak," he says, going to climb back into bed. "Move and I'll make you start from the beginning. Don't disappoint me again."
Shutting my mouth I continue to cry, the tears falling over my nose and landing on the floor in cold drops. The slick is warm on my skin, and my arms and back and knees are already beginning to hurt. I whine softly, wanting to call for Damien but biting it back; keeping it all inside where it can only plague me more.
Trying to fade away, I wait, and the moonlight drifting under the drapes is pearly on the floor. I try to focus on it as the minutes pile on me like stones.
I'm nearly incoherent by the time I can feel Damien's presence near me, and I know I'm well and truly gone, given over to the most basic, primal needs attached to my dynamic. My blood is fire and so are my bones, my veins. I'm just heat and emptiness, and I'm saturated with slick and sweat and tears.
"Look at you," he murmurs, and his voice seems so dim to my ears; it's like I'm drowning. "You needy, messy little thing... so sweet and wanting your alpha so badly. Don't you?"
"Alpha," I repeat, almost unable to speak at this point.
There's a moment of nothing before I feel fingers stroking along the slope of my back, and they're trailing down over my entrance, teasing.
"So wet and ready," he says softly.
I try to move but he places his hands on my hips tightly. "Don't move. I want you just like this."
I still, and he begins to tease me again, rubbing my entrance with circular touches. I whine and he places a finger inside of me, not deep, but it still feels so good that I shift to make him go deeper. He laughs softly and adds another finger, opening me a little wider, and i almost come apart right there; sensitive from being made to wait for so long.
He pushes in farther, twisting them a little now, slowly. "Does that feel nice?"
"Yes, yes... so good," I whisper.
Placing a hand on my back, he goes deeper. Before too long, he's brushing my sweet spot and I arch, coming immediately, the fluid dripping on the floor as my cock throbs. I gasp, breathing in and out like I've run a race as I continue to let go, so relieved but still so ravenous.
"There," he says, slowly sliding his fingers from me, making me feel that much emptier. "Did that make my omega happy?"
With the cum leaking from me, I can feel myself becoming hard again, and I shift my hips, spreading my thighs a little wider. "More, please, don't stop. I need you so badly."
"Oh, do you?" he asks, stroking me again. He places a hand over my wet cock and pulls a little. I convulse, nearly crying now. "Where do you need me, my love?"
"Inside, deep," I pant, losing my thoughts...I can barely remember my name, who I am. I don't care. This need is all that matters - being filled, made to drip with my Alpha's seed.
"Here," he murmurs, spreading my entrance wide. "Where you're so slick and needy. Hmm?"
I can only moan, arching deeper; curling to present myself more completely. After an agonizing moment of nothing I can feel new wetness being pressed into me, and Damien's hands are on my hips, nails sinking in. I push back and his tongue is licking into me further, tasting and making my vision haze.
I make guttural, nonsensical sounds; mindless now with this new pleasure. I feel even more wet, and Damien is cupping my cock, pumping.
"I've never tasted anyone so sweet," he says, kissing along my entrance and up my back. "What is it about you? You're in my head... you're always there."
I push against him, curling my toes, my hands straining from where they're locked at the small of my back.
"Please," I whisper.
"Shhh, let me give you what you need so badly," he says, shifting and then i feel warm pressure on my entrance, and he's going so slow as he sinks his cock into me. My mouth opens but I can't make sound, feeling open; wide, so wide, already, but it isn't enough.
His breathing becomes heavier the more he pushes in, and when he's fully within me he rests his hips against my buttocks, and finally, finally some of the gnawing ache is satisfied.
I'm so full and I love it, his thick hardness opening and touching those places that have been screaming for relief. He's still for a long time, hands gripping, and he ghosts his fingers over the curves of my hips, my belly... the bones of my pelvis.
"Always so tight," he says softly. He moves then but only a little, almost like he's adjusting himself, but it pulls a pleasured whine from my mouth. "Does my omega like being filled like this?"
I nod, starting to drool.
"I'll go slow, then, so you can savor it; being fucked by the only alpha who's allowed to touch you." Drawing back slowly, he thrusts in, making me arch deeper. He waits before doing it again, and soon he's set a nice easy pace, when really I want him to go fast; hard. I want him to make me scream.
I fall into his rhythm, inching forward as he thrusts, and I push back to meet him, over and over; delicious pressure building until a fever pitch is reached, and I come hard, splattering the floor again. I sigh, flushed and warm, and manage to find a thread of my voice.
Damien stops, thick and hot inside me. "What?"
Breathing deeply, my throat is ragged but I speak, not recognizing my own voice. "Please...fuck me harder...knot me..."
He pulls me back roughly, savage suddenly. "You want me to fill you up, Kyle?"
I nod slowly, closing my eyes.
"So you want to have my children... you admit that you belong to me? That you'll always belong to me?"
I've evaporated under his touch, and I'm no longer tethered to anything that could remotely resemble reality. I'm just feeling and need; blood, flesh, and this all-consuming heat.
I nod, giving in because I don't have the strength to consider denying him what he wants. I can't even remember why I was fighting him in the first place. I'm doing what I was meant to do; succumbing to my alpha and offering myself as a vessel; to carry life, to be owned.
"I adore you," he says, no longer slow or tender; fucking into me like he wants to hurt me, wound me, and I let him; hands locked and completely at his mercy. He thrusts fast and hard, growling low and tearing his nails into my skin; hips colliding with me, and i gasp; breath hot, almost leaving me.
I can feel his engorged knot brushing my entrance, and he's thrusting brutally; hard, hard, so hard, making me moan, nearly screaming, and my thighs are trembling as he gives it to me like I need.
When he thrusts so deep that I feel his knot entering, I scream out his name, and I'm so full, so blessedly full -
The pain is beautiful because I asked for it, craved it, and he thrusts again, and then his smoldering seed is pouring into me, filling me the way an omega needs to be filled, and none is leaking out because I'm so tightly closed; a large cock plugging me like the panting, dirty slut that I am, that I was born to be.
He doesn't speak but he growls again, leaning to bite hard at my back, teeth sinking in and making the pain bloom up my spine; sharp, profound.
"You're mine," he whispers, still filling me. He reaches to stroke my belly. "You'll always be mine. I'll kill anyone who even thinks of being with you."
"Yours," I say faintly, only able to focus on the seed flowing into me. I'm so wonderfully full, so used, and finally some of the yearning is abating. I almost cry from the relief.
He gives another few, more gentle pumps inside of me, and then becomes still; waiting. I slacken, closing my eyes, already ready to collapse, but he keeps me aware with how tightly he holds my hips.
Finally, he sighs, slipping out slowly, regretfully, and I moan low. He squeezes my backside. "Stay as you are; don't move."
"I'm so tired," I say, but I obey.
"We've only started," he replies, leaning and licking along my backbone. He stops at my nape and sets his teeth there, gingerly sinking them in until i suck in a breath. He chuckles, pulling away to nuzzle my temple instead.
After that, my mind is even more of a haze as I fall into what my body wants for me; hormones rushing, blood hot. My skin is slick with sweat, and i lick the salt from my lips as Damien mounts me again; having released my hands so I can reach for him, pull him close.
We're in my nest and the room is hot, Damien deep inside of me, holding my arms down as he fucks me hard. He bites at my throat until I whine, turning my face to give him better access, and he sighs against my skin. He stills, hips pressed to mine, and his cock is so, so deep inside of me. He's already knotted me a few times, and my stomach is rounder with his seed.
"So good," he murmurs, kissing my mouth, coaxing me to open. He licks into me and I reciprocate, hungry for him even though I'm covered in bites and sweat; trickles of blood where his teeth have sunken deep into my hot flesh. My thighs feel weak, there are bruises all over... and I want more, hardly satiated. I can feel his knot nudging me, and I beg for it.
"Again," I moan, wrapping my legs around him and squeezing him tight.
"I want to finish with you on your knees again," he replies, nipping my bottom lip. He helps me turn onto my stomach and I grab a hold of the blankets that are filled with our scents, our sweat; rife with spilled blood and cum. He takes a hold of my hair and yanks my head back, breathing heavily against my ear as he knots me again, and his wondrous heat is pouring in me.
"Take it," he growls, wrapping a hand around my cock even though I've already come so many times, but I spill into his hand; gasping soundlessly. He grunts as he convulses again, and his cock is deeper in me than it's been the whole time. Bringing his hand to my mouth, he has me lap the mess from it; smeared over my swollen, aching lips. He waits, making sure he's done before pulling out. He catches some cum rolling down my thigh and dips his finger in me to press it inside where it belongs.
I hide my face, somewhat coming back to myself. I'm drifting, though; pleasantly warm and tired.
"Stay still, I'll get you something to drink," Damien says softly. I feel him move away and I stay as I am, ass raised even though I'm trembling with weariness.
He's back before too long, patting my hip, and he eases me onto my back. I blink tiredly, removed and floating in a strange, timeless euphoria.
"Sit up for me," he says, taking my hand. I rise and he places a cool glass to my lips, filled with cold water. I drink greedily. Once I've had my fill he feeds me by hand; fruit and warm bread with honey. He runs warm fingers over my shoulder and down my arm.
"I've been so hard on you," he comments, calling my attention to an angry red bite mark on my forearm.
"I like it," I admit, licking honey from the corner of my mouth. "I want to feel used by you... it's like my body craves it."
"Omegas crave strength from others that they don't possess," he replies. "They need structure and discipline... control. You realize this, don't you? It's in your biology."
I touch my head where the ache has only intensified. "I'm still not thinking straight... there's just too much going on inside of me. I'm not myself."
He watches, drinking some water as well, and while his eyes are still a deep red, they've died down a little bit; fires waiting to be stoked. "I know. Believe me."
He eats some bread and offers me more, pushing it into my mouth so I can tongue the honey from his fingertips. His eyes begin to blaze a little hotter and my body responds immediately, slick gathering and sliding; hips aching to be grabbed. Damien lifts his face to scent the air, smiling.
"You're ready again, aren't you?"
Lying back, I nestle into the blankets that smell of us and watch him, feverish and covered in sweet- smelling sweat. He crawls over and parts my thighs wider as he lays to cover me, kissing my mouth, tasting of honey. I sigh and open my lips, allowing the kiss to sink deeper, surrendering. The fog gathers thickly again as he lifts my hips to roughly enter me, staying still before burying his face in the curve of my throat.
I wrap my arms around him, fingers playing over his smooth skin, the muscles there, and I lose myself again; falling as he fucks me deep, pulling moans from my lips that are shameful; greedy -
Foreign to my ears, like I'm far underwater and my true self is still on the shore; calling, begging me to resurface before it's too late.
The next day passes in much the same way: fucking, dozing, eating a little; drinking a lot. I'm filled over and over, crying out, begging, moaning... taken every way Damien can imagine, and soon I'm a boneless, bruised shadow of a person that can barely keep their eyes open. Damien is the messiest I've ever seen him, hair disheveled and eyes wild; covered in scratches from where my nails have dug into him. We both smell of sex and blood and sweat; sweet and metallic and faintly musky.
The hours blend together, morning into afternoon to evening; sunlight devouring moonlight as I melt into him. I cease to exist as I am for the majority of the time, becoming nothing but potent sexual energy for Damien to feed off of; both of us sustaining the other until the fog slowly begins to lift and I come back little by little.
It's a painful awakening when it starts, and I'm aware of a rage igniting itself far on the edge of my awareness. It grows slowly, falling into the fog on occasion, usually when Damien is inside of me, twisting me to fit against him; knotting and filling me while biting my shoulders, my lips.
When the fury becomes stronger, refusing to be ignored, the humiliation sets in to accompany it; flashes of memory coming back relentlessly to taunt me; being exposed, objectified; made to perform for Damien and his disgusting company.
I'd been chained and swarmed without the ability to protect myself; thrown to the wolves, and then I'd begged for Damien's attention, had knelt before him and -
Hugging myself, I dig my nails into my arms and try not to think of warming Damien's cock while others watched, and he loved it; seeing me on my knees, serving him like a mindless puppet.
"Get off me," I bite, snapping from the fog like I'm being tugged from a stifling, dark room; brought back to the light and forced to face it. I'd been sleeping with Damien curled close, his arm thrown over me, weighing me down. We're in my nest on the floor and I'm appalled at the scent of Damien everywhere, all over me; suffocating me. Kicking him away, I stand, unfettered because at some point he'd released my chain because I'd been too lost to even think of running away.
He sits up blinking the sleep from his eyes, and regards me passively. A frown tugs his lips. "Is there a problem?"
"Of course there is, you son of a bitch," I snap, limping away, my whole body a collection of bruises and bites and deep pains. Jesus Christ, what did he do to me while I was out of my mind?! "You've been taking advantage of me for days, and I let you! I fucking let you and I hate myself for it!"
He groans, rubbing his face. "So you're going to devolve into this again? Histrionics and combativeness?"
"What, did you think forcing yourself on me was the way to my heart? You're demented." Stopping, I almost cry when I feel moisture leaking from me. "I hate you so much, I hope you realize that."
"You begged me for it," he replies, not angry, not particularly happy; merely matter of fact. "You asked me to fill you and I did. I took care of you, Kyle; at your request."
Whirling on him, I look for something to throw and find it, grabbing a wine glass from the table and launching it at him with all of my strength. He's up and dodging it in an instant, ignoring the way it collides with the wall and seems to explode. Instead, he advances on me and I swiftly grab a wine bottle, smashing it on the table and brandishing the jagged remainder.
"Stay away from me," I snarl. "Come any closer and I'll twist this in your face."
He growls, circling me, eyes flicking to the bottle now and again. "Kyle, I'm warning you."
"You're a monster," I seeth, "blaming me for you taking advantage of me... waiting for my heat to come so you could pretend I wanted you. I never wanted you! I never will!"
"Well, it hardly matters now, does it?" he asks coldly. "I knotted you every chance I had, which were many, and we both know what that means, don't we?"
Something shatters in my chest when I hear this, like it was fragile and made of glass, but I don't let it show. I bear my teeth, wishing so badly to jam the sharp glass in my hand right through his venomous heart.
"You're sick," I spit. "And there's no guarantee that you were able to... that..." I break off, covering my mouth. I almost gag. "I pray to God that you failed. I'd rather slit my own throat than have your child... no part of you should be passed to the next generation."
He laughs, shaking his head. "Are you sure you feel that way? If you don't have my child my father intends to have you. Is that preferable to being with me? Really think about it."
Freezing, the dread that had been clawing in me, the filth that seems to be living not only on my skin but inside of it, becomes unbearable, and with furious tears in my eyes I rush at him; swinging the bottle; slashing and going for every vulnerable spot i can reach.
I catch him off guard, and for a moment he doesn't seem to understand what's happening, which gives me an advantage. I jab at him, shoving the broken bottle against his chest and slicing it open, blood pouring out and dribbling down his pale skin. He gasps and I feel unmitigated triumph before he knocks the bottle from my hand and grabs me roughly by the arm. Rearing back, he slaps me hard enough to make my nose bleed; quickly doing it again and again. I scream brokenly and it comes out watery, but he doesn't stop.
"You will never raise a hand to me again," he growls, taking me by the hair and throwing me to the floor. "If you do i can't be responsible for my actions, regardless of how I feel about you."
I curl up and just begin to sob, crying until I retch. My mind is nothing but misery and agony; covered with his smell, his touch. He's burned himself into my skin and it makes me hate myself so much. I'm unclean, I'm spoiled... no one will want me now. He's ruined me.
"Craig," I cry before I can help it. I miss him so much, beyond anything I can put into words, and it guts me. I hug myself and start to scream, praying for death, oblivion, anything to take me away from this nightmare.
Suddenly I'm being grabbed again, and Damien is fury personified, shaking me and forcing me to look at him; startling me enough that I stop sobbing.
"I don't want to hear his name again," he says, shaking me harder. "I'll beat you the next time you say it!"
"You'll beat me anyway!" I scream, the blood hot on my face. "Look at me! Look at what you've already done!"
He squeezes my arms so hard that i wince, slackening, and I'm sure he's going to strike me again when he's pulling me close; hugging me fiercely against his bleeding chest.
"Why do you have to be this way? Why can't you just give me a little, anything... just something to show that you care for me at all; that you want me to care for you? I don't understand!"
I can't speak for a moment, shocked into silence because of the pain, the vulnerability, in his voice. Compassion, a small trickle of it, makes me want to soften because I would for almost anyone else, but not for him; I can't.
"I don't care for you," I say lowly, beginning to struggle. "You're a curse I can't seem to get rid of... being here with you is a punishment for a crime i can't remember committing. I loath you, everything about you. You think you can get whatever you want if you're brutal enough, but that won't work with me... you may break me eventually but you'll never make me love you."
He tenses and his breath hitches, but he only hugs me tighter, pulling me onto his lap. He leans his head against my hair, stroking it softly for long minutes. I wait, attempting to imagine myself elsewhere, and watch dust motes float through errant streams of sunlight.
Finally, he breathes heavily, clearing his throat. He pushes me away and stands. "Let's take a bath," he mutters. "We're both a mess. Come along."
I slip into a deeper state of despair after my Heat is over and I fully come back to my senses, ashamed of my conduct; disturbed that I took an active role in perpetuating my own destruction. I know an omega becomes nearly mindless during a heat, but I just can't stop mourning the fact that I accepted Damien, that I begged for him.
I can't even look at myself in the mirror, avoiding my reflection; even when I'm in the bath I don't look at the water. I try to disconnect from my physical self, and I pretend my body is another entity entirely; far away and belonging to someone else.
I don't want to exist anymore, and I know Damien can tell. He watches me even more closely, and he hasn't tried to do anything to me in the few days since we were together.
I begin waking up to vases full of roses again, and he starts to add touches to the room that i suppose he thinks will please me. One morning the little box with the animals carved on it is on the table next to my side of the bed. Perched on top is a silver bracelet with charms shaped like musical notes.
"You enjoy music so much," he says, looping the delicate article around my wrist. "I thought you'd like it. Do you?"
I stare at it and blink back tears. It's pretty, I have to admit, but seeing the notes reminds me of the piano, which leads to Craig and Tricia. I cover my mouth and look away.
"It's fine," I murmur. "May I put it away now, please?"
He pauses, turning my wrist to watch the charms catch the light. "You don't want to wear it?"
I shake my head. "No, thank you."
Quietly, he removes it and places it in my palm. "If that's what you'd prefer."
The next day a different piece of jewelry waits for me: a necklace with a pear shaped diamond on a long chain. I lift it reluctantly and watch the sunlight reflect off of its many faces, dazzling my eyes. I put it away without comment, but I can feel Damien watching me as I do.
I still endure long days by myself, chained to the bed but allowed the use of my hands on the condition that I don't try to attack Damien - it's easier said than done. I spend the lonely hours looking out the window but there isn't a lot to see. I continue to make up stories and I talk to myself, but I'm disintegrating as the days pass. I feel tired and listless; my stomach tight and my appetite nonexistent.
One evening, after he's returned and we're eating dinner, he asks me what he could give me since I don't really seem to care for jewelry.
"What would make you happy?" he asks, pushing his plate away.
I keep my eyes on my plate, pushing my food around. I could tell him the truth but he already knows it and he won't give it to me anyway; freedom, being released from this place, from him.
"I like the roses," I say blankly.
"I know that, but what else would you like?" He presses, exasperated. "Maybe a new gown?"
I shake my head.
He taps the table slowly while I pick at my food. Softly he asks, "what about books? I know you like those."
I look up quickly, having never expected to hear that from him. He watches, lifting his glass and swirling the wine within.
"Books that you would read to me?" I ask, my heart pounding so hard i feel a little nauseated.
"No, not exactly," he replies. He drinks some wine while I try to understand his meaning; blood running cold.
"I'm not sure what you mean," I say carefully, averting my eyes.
"Cartman told me he caught you in his library," he says nonchalantly. "He said you had a book... it made him suspicious."
"Like you can believe anything that pig says," I mutter.
"True, but I had your room searched after you ran away," he adds, and now my heart is racing. "I found the books under your mattress... along with paper and a pen."
I can feel the blood draining from my face before I abruptly push away from the table. "That doesn't mean anything, just because I had those things doesn't-"
He holds up a hand, nonplussed. "Kyle, I'm not angry. If anything, I'm impressed."
I narrow my eyes. This has to be another trick. "Impressed? Why?"
"First I want an answer," he retorts. "Can you read and write, yes or no?"
Tilting my head, I don't try to hide my defiance. "Yes, I can. I hate that Alphas won't let omegas learn. It isn't right; we can do anything the rest of you can, you just never give us a chance."
He nods, appearing thoughtful. "And I assume you won't tell me who taught you."
"Of course not, although I have a pretty good idea of who it was, anyway." He rubs his mouth. "Fine, would books please you, then?"
I glare at him. "What's the catch here?"
"You don't do anything without a reason, and now you're offering to give me books... you're acting like you're fine with me being literate, even though it's illegal. Are you just looking for something else to hang over my head?"
Setting down his glass, Damien's expression is enigmatic now. "I didn't have an ulterior motive in this regard, but I can see why you'd feel that way. Are you still hungry? You've barely touched your food."
"I've had enough."
"Very well." He continues to eat, clearly fine with dropping the subject.
Twisting my hands in my gown, I can't help but worry that he's baiting me; I'd be a fool not to suspect something like that, but there's a matter that nags at me. I clear my throat and he glances at me, eyebrows raised.
"The pen you found," I say, nerves rattled. "May I have it back? It's important to me."
"Oh? Then why didn't you take it when you ran away?"
I flush, touching my throat; heat spreading down it. "I wasn't thinking straight, I guess."
Tapping his plate he considers this. "I'll think about it."
"Fine." Standing, I walk away, leaving him to eat alone. I can feel his gaze hot on my back but I refuse to turn around.
Days pass and the roses keep arriving, scarlet and bright. Despite my disinterest he gives me new gowns and pretty little trinkets to decorate the room with; throw pillows, rugs, paintings of forests and pretty, happy people dancing and laughing.
Looking at them just makes me feel lonelier, but it does lift my spirits slightly to see some of his darker influence being erased from our chambers. Soon the room is filled with flowers and he even allows me to keep the drapes open so sunlight can chase away the shadows.
Our routine is much the same as it was, but I'm starting to go stir crazy being confined to this room. I want to see the garden, I want to feel the sunlight and the wind; I yearn to see a different face and hear anyone else's voice. I've taken to crying for hours in the afternoons because I hate feeling this helpless and alone.
One morning I wake up to the drapes already thrown wide, the early sunlight sifting across the bed, soft and warm. I rise and stretch, my thin nightgown airy as I go to the window to look out. The sky is a pale blue and I sigh because I'd dearly love to spend my time outside on a day like this.
"Good morning," Damien calls, making me turn to look at him. He's already washed and dressed, and our breakfast is waiting on the table. "Did you sleep well?"
"About as well as can be expected," I reply, turning away. "It's going to be a lovely day out there," I add. "Wish I could say the same for in here."
"Come and eat," he says, "It'll get cold."
Breakfast is subdued, but I can't help but notice that Damien's had the roses in the crystal vase refreshed. They're full and healthy, sitting in the middle of the table.
"I'll be later than usual today, my love," he says near the end of the meal, frowning at my plate; the food I've barely touched. "I have several errands that need my attention."
"It's just as well," I reply coolly. "The hours drag on regardless... what's a few more at this point?"
"Perhaps you'll find a worthwhile way to pass the time," he remarks, smiling.
I snort. "Doubtful."
I bathe and dress in a gown of Damien's choosing; light blue with a full, gathered skirt. After I pass his inspection my ankle chain is snapped into place and I sit on the bed as I watch him readying to leave.
"Would you like anything special for dinner?" he asks, pulling on his dark coat.
I shake my head. Food doesn't really matter to me anymore; it's just a necessity, and all of it seems to taste the same in my current state of mind. Nothing's really tasted good since my reckless journey to the coast, but that's because of the company I kept, not necessarily what was being eaten. Besides, my appetite is so off, and I just don't feel hungry these days; my stomach always feeling unsettled.
"You need to nourish yourself," he says sternly. "After all, you could be -"
"I thought you were leaving," I interject, nervously worrying my hands together. "I'm fine on my own, but that's already obvious, isn't it?"
He sighs, coming to kiss my cheek, ignoring the way i recoil. "Try to find something to do. You're smart, you'll think of something."
I growl softly under my breath, glad to see him leaving for the most part. A curl of longing plucks at me, though, which i try to ignore. I sit for a moment and watch the trees moving in the wind outside, imagining i can feel it too; cool on my face, in my hair.
I'm about to settle in for another long, monotonous day when my eye catches on something out of the ordinary; my side table drawer is slightly open. It's strange, I always keep it closed because it's empty. There's no need to disturb it.
I go to it, curious and apprehensive. I just hope that Damien didn't leave me a nasty surprise, but when I slide the drawer open I'm met with a wonderful sight: dozens of books, and what's more, I've been given paper and -
"Oh," I murmur, lifting the little golden pen Craig had given me so long ago. It catches the light and it glints. Bittersweet tears burn my eyes as I study it.
The books I've been given are plentiful and new to me, consisting of fairy tales and plays and poetry. I hungrily lift them and read each cover and back, almost shaking because this discovery will change everything. I won't have to stare into space and try to entertain myself as the hours unwind; now I can fill my mind with the words of others, and it'll almost be like I'll have someone else to talk to; a door opening to new worlds.
My joy is poisoned by the fact that Damien has given me these gifts, of course. I can only suspect that he's trying to curry favor with me or use the books as a way to punish me if I disobey, but for now I'm so happy to be able to read again that I set my worries aside. Settling on the bed, I begin to read, to devour story after story; the golden pen in my hand and the sunlight like silk as it flows across the floor.
It feels like barely any time has passed when Damien returns that evening. I'm curled on the couch, lost in a book, and when the door opens i don't immediately look up. In fact, I take no notice of him until he comes over and lightly touches my neck. Blinking, I look up, and he smiles at me; tender. He appears intrigued.
"I see you found your surprise," he says.
I nod, slowly closing the book; annoyed at being pulled from a prettier, safer place. I set it aside, quickly tucking the pen in my pocket. I don't look at him, not sure what sort of response he wants from me.
"Are the books in line with your tastes?" he asks, moving away to begin settling in. "If not I can get you others... as many as you like."
"They're fine, thank you," I reply primly. I gather my pile of books and carry them to my side table, shutting them away.
"I just noticed that you had a lot of fairy tales, and Cartman said you had one of his poetry books." He snorts. "Though I'd be very surprised if he's ever read for leisure, or at all."
I almost smile but stop myself, covering my mouth. He continues to make himself comfortable, rolling up his sleeves and unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt; something he does every time he returns. He seems to be very devoted to routines, and I hate myself for picking up on his patterns.
"Did you have something you wanted to talk about?" he asks, startling me. I hadn't been aware that I'd been staring at him.
Blushing, I look away. "Why didn't you punish me? I don't understand."
"Punish you for what?"
I roll my eyes. "For learning to read and write; for hiding my books and things from you. It's illegal and you seem so...traditional."
"I'm traditional in certain regards, yes. I expect you to listen and obey, to defer to your Alpha, but I don't find ignorance attractive. I never have."
I look at him, surprised. He's pouring himself some wine but doesn't offer me any. I'm forbidden from drinking alcohol until we know whether or not -
I shake my head. I can't even think about what may be happening inside of me.
"So you don't agree with the laws, then?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.
"Not all of them, no."
"I find that hard to believe."
"Understandable." There's a knock at the door then, and Rebecca arrives with our dinner. She looks even more gaunt than the last time I saw her. She's silent as she lays everything out, leaving quickly.
"Come," he says, pulling out my chair.
Dinner is pork loin, roasted potatoes, and asparagus, but I don't have much of an appetite. Damien doesn't disguise the way he watches my consumption, his mouth pressed flat with growing irritation.
"I've had enough," he says, setting down his fork abruptly. "You barely ate any breakfast and you never touch the snacks i leave for you to have during the day. You're going to eat everything on your plate."
"I'm not hungry," I say softly. In fact, my stomach feels unsettled, but I'm not going to tell him that. It's none of his business.
"I don't care, Kyle. Do as i say or you're not leaving this table."
I have to stifle a laugh, wanting to tell Damien that he sounds more like my father than my Alpha - not that I've accepted him as such. I stare at my plate, the smell of the food becoming more unappealing as the minutes pass.
"Kyle," he growls, that little warning note in his tone. "Do as you're told. You can't starve yourself; it'll be detrimental to -"
"Shut up! I don't want to talk about that!" I yell, clamping my hands to my ears.
Reaching, Damien takes a hold of my arm and yanks it away so I'm forced to listen. "Ignoring the possibility isn't going to change anything! I refuse to let you make stupid decisions that'll only hurt you in the long run! Stop being irrational and face the fact that you might be pregnant!"
Tearing my hand away i begin crying immediately, angry and nauseated as that ugly, repulsive word - pregnancy - rings through my head like a death knell. Recklessly, I grab some food from my plate, not bothering to use a fork, and I stuff it into my mouth; making a mess as I sob hysterically.
"Fine, you want me to eat?! I'll eat then!" I yell, cramming more food between my lips, ignoring the way it makes me want to gag; my stomach jumping and writhing.
Damien's at a loss for words for a moment, obviously disgusted as I eat like an animal, but then he's reaching to push the plate away. "What the hell is wrong with you?! Have you lost your goddamn mind?!" he shouts.
Sobbing uncontrollably now, I feel a lurch in my stomach as the food I'd forced down starts to come back up, and i race from the table, nearly tripping on my way to the bathroom. I barely make it to the toilet before I begin vomiting violently, my mouth filling with bile as I kneel on the floor. I begin to shake, sweat breaking out on my forehead and face.
It has to be because I ate when I didn't want to, but I'm so sick of Damien harping on me about it, controlling every tiny aspect of my life. And hearing that word, that word... it's like being forced to swallow a mouthful of needles.
I vomit until I go slack, and I rest my sweaty cheek against the toilet seat, drifting; stomach unsettled, a throb building in my head. I'm covered in cold sweat and I'm shaking as chills move through me.
"Did that help?" Damien asks from the doorway. He sounds exasperated. "Really, Kyle, you didn't need to take things that far...I'm only trying to take care of you."
"I'm aware of that," I snap. "God knows you tell me enough."
"It bears repeating, I think; until you accept it. Here, let me help clean you up."
"No!" I shout, standing slowly on my wobbly legs. "I'm fine on my own, I don't need you. My stomach was upset, that's all. That's why I didn't want to eat."
He watches me and I know he isn't convinced. "Fine. I'll have Bebe bring up something to help settle your stomach."
I wave him away and angrily flush the toilet, nerves tingling and my stomach still rolling over. The nausea is sitting in the back of my throat, and even thinking about food is making me feel sick again. I splash cold water on my face and close my eyes, thinking of anything that will ground me; that'll distract from how awful I feel -
And how terrified I'm quickly becoming.
Several days later, I rise to wide open curtains, more roses, and another stack of books on my side table. I say nothing, taking breakfast with Damien, the atmosphere frosty (mostly from me, I must admit), and I can feel him watching every morsel of food i put in my mouth.
"I'm not eating if you're going to watch me," I finally say, putting down my fork. "I'm not a sideshow."
"How are you feeling?" he asks, sliding a muffin on a plate closer to me.
Truth be told, I feel a little better than yesterday but I'm still slightly nauseated. I drink some ginger ale, annoyed that he made a point of saying it's just for me.
"I'm fine," I snap. "I told you my stomach was just upset. That's all."
He only nods, but I can see that telltale light in his eyes; the one that sparks when something has either intrigued or delighted him. I eat enough to satisfy him, overlooking how sick I feel when I'm done. I take deep breaths and drink more ginger ale, ignoring Damien's little smile.
The day is spent peacefully as I read on the couch, the fire burning merrily. At one point, though, I nod off and Damien finds me fast asleep when he comes in; sitting on the floor with my head cradled in my arms on the couch. He kisses me awake and I back away quickly, having been enjoying a pleasant dream before he spoiled it.
"Have a nice nap?" he asks, smiling that unsettling smile again.
Rubbing my eyes, I ignore him and put my books away. I still feel exhausted but I chalk it up to sleeping in a strange place in an uncomfortable position.
Dinner is a trial but I endure, choking down steak and salad, but I turn my nose up at the cake I'm offered for dessert.
"Really?" Damien asks, giving me a look. "You normally love sweets... that's why I had them make this for you."
"Well, I don't want any," I reply, downing some water to help ease my nausea. "And my steak was overcooked."
He sighs. "I thought you liked it that way."
"I want it rare next time," I say, something about the idea very appealing to me.
He gives me a thoughtful look which only infuriates me. I leave the table, trying to think of anything that will distract me from running to the bathroom again.
We read that evening, which is typical, but now we both have our own books. I can feel him looking at me every now and again, but I purposely keep my eyes on the page, but I can't focus on the words.
"Will you read to me?" he asks suddenly, prompting me to lower my book and stare at him. He's bathed in firelight, the glow reflecting off his dark hair. His eyes glimmer but he doesn't seem to be teasing me.
I swallow, biting back a yawn. I'm still so tired. "Why?"
He shrugs and it's almost boyish. "I just miss reading together, and I like hearing you speak. You're so quiet most of the time."
"I wonder why that is," I mutter. I sigh, touching my cheek; resting my head my hand. "I'm a little tired, truthfully." I pause, wanting to tell him to leave me alone, but I would like to continue my book but I'm too weary to focus properly. I slide it over so it's between us. "Why don't you read for a while?"
He picks up the book and studies the cover. "Other Voices, Other Rooms*," he says. "Do you like it so far?"
"I think it's lovely."
"Well, if it would please you." He opens the book and I point to where he should begin. Soon his voice is like smoke in the room, rising and lulling me. I lean my head against the couch, listening until my eyes slip shut.
I wake up early the next morning, even before the sun has fully risen, to find myself in the large bed with Damien's arms around me; my head nestled on his chest, and I'm horrified. I pull away, stifling a scream when he tightens his hold, groaning in his sleep.
"Let me go," I say tremulously, still fighting. "I don't want to be held by you; I hate when you touch me."
Finally he awakens, and he releases me before sitting up to turn on the light. We both squint at one another, eyes adjusting slowly. He frowns.
"You reached for me in your sleep," he says huskily. "After I tucked you in you were restless, but you settled after -"
"Don't lie," I cut him off. "And if that did happen it's because I was having a dream and mistook you for someone else."
Growling, he shows me his teeth. "I don't think I need to ask who you were dreaming about."
"It's none of your business anyway!" Moving away, he grabs my arm and drags me back.
"Let's get something straight here," he says lowly, "everything you do, everything about you, is my business. There is nothing about you that I won't find out about, and that includes things you don't even realize yet, or maybe you do and you just don't want to accept them."
Feeling cold, I stare into his eyes and that light is burning brightly, deep, and I can see it for what it is; knowledge, a realization, and it makes me so completely afraid that I lose all of my fight instantly. I hang my head and cover my mouth, the sickness rising in me that I've been trying so desperately to deny.
"Your smell is different," he murmurs. "It changed a while ago, and I could tell as soon as it did. You're carrying yourself differently, too; more carefully, almost like you're trying not to draw attention to yourself. And you're so tired all the time."
"Please," I say faintly, shutting my eyes. "Stop. I can't hear this. I don't want to."
"Ignoring your reality doesn't change it," he says, becoming softer. He holds me more gently but doesn't let go, pulling me so I'm right against him. He breathes in my scent deeply before sighing, his hand sliding up my leg, lifting my nightgown.
"I don't want to do this with you," I beg, turning my face away. "Haven't you done enough already? How much do you want to take from me?"
"Calm yourself, I'm not going to do anything to you. I just," he stops, rubbing his hand over my hip; it settles flat and warm on my belly, low. "Right there," he adds, nuzzling me. "You know, don't you? You have to."
Nausea's building in my throat but I swallow it down. I feel achy in my back and hips, and so, so exhausted. I shake my head.
"I can't accept it, it's too awful," I whisper.
"How can you say that? Isn't having children the thing omegas want the most?" He's still stroking my stomach, his fingers curling possessively.
"I don't know," I manage to say, my voice coming out shallow. "I just...I don't want this with you, if it's true. You know that."
He lapses into silence, his hand weighing heavier on my stomach. I shift but he won't let me go. "You'll change your mind... how can you not? We've created a life together. It'll give you a new perspective. It has to."
Covering my mouth, I jerk away; bile rising. My stomach is in knots but I don't know if it's because of the reality crashing down on me or the way Damien twists and perverts everything between us. Rising, I rush across the room where I barely make it to the bathroom before I'm sick again; sobbing quietly as I press a hand to my stomach.