"You're angry, frustrated. You want some form of release. I can help you with what you want." I drop my hand to trace the edge of his wrist sensually. "If that's what you want. I'm consenting."
His eyes turn from brown to black within a matter of se...
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اوووه! هذه الصورة لا تتبع إرشادات المحتوى الخاصة بنا. لمتابعة النشر، يرجى إزالتها أو تحميل صورة أخرى.
I was left down in the cellar for the rest of the day, my legs beginning to cramp from being forced into the same position for almost twenty four hours. Becoming sick of looking around at the same four walls, my boredom creeping up inside me. Secretly wishing that Nella came back down to give me some company, or at least explain my fate.
Imagining them all sitting around their dining room table deciding what they would do to me, laughing at the thought of the Alpha being annoyed by my presence. I knew I shouldn't enjoy the fact I could get under his skin so easily but I couldn't help myself, he wanted to kill me so why shouldn't I disrespect him?
All they needed to do was let me go, not force me to sit here all day. I wasn't a threat to them but convincing them otherwise seemed difficult, especially with my sour attitude. Nella was right, I probably wasn't doing myself any favours. But I physically couldn't help it, lashing out and snapping back felt like a default and I couldn't stop becoming defensive.
Even if I wanted to switch it off, I couldn't. No matter how hard I tried. The silver was beginning to get to me, cutting into my skin further than before and wincing as my flesh heals over the metal, then is a fresh wound a second later.
Tiny footsteps draw me back to the room as I watch a young boy edge his way into the basement, his curious eyes looking around between the cells. A broomstick in one hand as he tip toes into the room, like he didn't want to disturb anyone.
My neck tilts and lets out the most satisfying crack, causing the boy to jolt as he presses the broom to the floor and begins to sweep.
"Kid," I grumble out, catching his attention. "Let me out."
His pale blue eyes find mine as he takes a step closer to the bars, latching onto one as he looks me up and down for a moment. He was dressed in a denim dungaree set with a white t-shirt underneath, mousey brown hair and pale skin.
"I might be an omega but I'm not stupid," he replies, his tone completely catching me off guard.
My eyes blink back at him as he sighs and continues to brush the floor, the action seeming completely bizarre to me but I guess that's how they treat their omega's here.
"What's your name?" I call out again, longing for some form of human interaction before I drove myself insane with my own thoughts.
The boy stops and swishes his lips side to side, like he was debating whether or not he should be talking to be. But he drops the broom to the floor again and swallows. "Ripley but everyone calls me Pluto." He tells me, his eyes instantly looking to the floor.
"Why?"
"Because I'm the bottom of the pack."
My eyes keep trained on him watching as he begins sweeping again, he couldn't be any older than sixteen and yet here he was, sweeping the floor for no reason.
