SALT #3
"True. Everything here is designed so we practically stick to each other. It is incredibly annoying," I mutter irritably.
I walk over to the kitchenette. I am actually a pretty good cook.
I spent most of my teenage years only with Senu.
We had to learn fast how to survive on almost no money, which meant cooking for ourselves.
I know meals are shared in the cafeteria here, so I probably will not get much chance to cook properly, but maybe I can throw something together now and then.
I notice some papers lying on the sill of the back window. I glance at them and immediately realize what they are.
"These look like printed copies of the Beta Activation rules and… Sector C regulations!" I say. "Might be worth reading." I pick them up. "Of course there is only one copy," I mutter, and whether I like it or not, I have to step closer to show them to him.
We lean over the pages together.
I read the regulations carefully, for reasons I do not intend to explain. You can find useful details anywhere, information that might help me slip out of here without setting off alarms.
The rules cover basic matters. There is also a section on security and potential fights between alphas.
I notice Eliano studying that part particularly closely.
I pick up the second page, the one devoted to medical examinations.
According to what is written here, couples are required to have regular sex. This is monitored by medical staff who check for the presence of sperm in the mucus blocking the entrance to the uterus.
Reading that, I feel a wave of stress. What if they do not find that in my case?
Another point states that individuals who refrain from sexual activity, or fail to initiate it, will be subjected to additional fertility stimulation methods, which may be imposed without the possibility of refusal, under penalty of termination from the program.
The wording is vague and deeply unsettling. They do not specify what those methods are.
What could it mean? Artificial stimulation, hormone injections, or who knows what else?
With growing horror, I realize that avoiding sex may not actually be an option!
We are sitting very close now. I glance at him discreetly from under my lashes. He is still focused on the section about regulating dynamics and potential disputes between alphas.
I notice his long lashes almost brushing his cheeks as he reads. His lips are full and sensual, like they were made for kissing. What would it feel like to have them on mine?
Clenching my jaw, I pull myself together and look away.
"So what did you find? If alphas get into a fight, do the police come?" I ask.
"Apparently not. They have their own internal services that intervene in serious situations. A beta security team!" He chuckles obnoxiously. "As if they could do much."
I snort at his cocky tone, but my unruly eyes jump over to his muscular, veiny forearm. Why, for some reason, do I find his alpha arrogance dickhardening? Yup, is that even a word?
"But if something like murder happens, then it becomes a normal police matter," Eliano continues "Did you finish reading? What about the medical section?"
He raises his brows, and our eyes meet. Since we are sitting so close, the eye contact feels much more intense. Why does the air seem charged with our chemistry?
I am the first to retreat, dropping my gaze back to the paper.
"There is a point saying that people who refuse to have sex can be subjected to fertility stimulation, whatever that means," I mumble, feeling the heat creep into my cheeks.
Eliano sets the papers aside and turns fully toward me. His expression is serious.
"Listen, Salt. I would rather talk about this openly. I do not want us playing weird games. I understand our situation, but I want you to know that I am not expecting us to jump into bed on the first night. I think we should give ourselves some time and get to know each other a little better."
I cling to that like a drowning person clings to a plank and nod eagerly.
"It is good that you understand that," I say. "Because I am not planning to rush into anything," I add firmly, deliberately making it sound almost cold.
"Okay," Eliano says, lifting his hands in a placating gesture. "We just need to keep in mind what this program requires and that sooner or later it might not be avoidable. Is that something you can accept?"
"And do I have any other choice?" I slump back against the couch, crossing my arms over my chest and puffing out my cheeks. However, bizarrely, for some silly reason, that prospect doesn’t seem as repulsive to me as it should.
"For now, we are in the initial phase. I do not think anyone is going to pressure us too much yet. I believe we can take some time to adapt to being here first," Eliano says with a casual expression.
He falls silent for a moment, then adds, "It is a huge shift from our previous lives. Although I have to admit that since I was basically living in confinement before, I do not feel much of a ‘culture shock’."
I am tempted to ask more about his life, but I bite my tongue. Why get into friendly convos and learn about him when all I plan to do here is figure out how to escape and adjust my actions toward that goal? Getting distracted will not help me.
But how do I fill the sound void?
I’m just about to grab the TV remote when I notice Eliano staring at my forearm, like he’s only now spotting the small tattoo there, ‘Justice for Senu’.
His eyes stay fixed on it, almost glued to the spot, but I keep my expression blank, pretending not to notice it as I turn on the TV.
A studio appears on the screen, with three politicians running for Senate seats, talking and debating while the journalist hosting them asks only moderately probing questions.
I am about to change the channel when Eliano stops me mid-motion. His fingers are warm and dry as he wraps them around my wrist. I swallow, then quickly pull my hand free.
"Wait. I want to hear what they have to say."
"You are into politics? We will not find common ground there," I mutter sourly. "I hate all those idiots and their power games. Politics is filth and corruption."
"True. But I know two of them personally. One is Tim Kellan, and the other is Mark Ferguson. That one is a real snake. I hope they tear him apart here."
We watch the interview for a while, but Ferguson is doing surprisingly well, giving slick, evasive answers whenever things turn sensitive.
"He’s fairly handsome. A lot of omegas might vote for him," I add dryly.
"Is he?" Eliano raises his eyebrows.
I snort. "Not that I care about alphas, just being objective."
"He rapes omegas on the side and beats the crap out of his own husband. Total scumbag. But at least he’s handsome! If people care about looks, his win’s almost guaranteed."
I gape. "What the hell? How do you know?"
Eliano rolls his eyes. "He was Uncle Anzo’s lapdog for a while. We know him. Sadly, he’s leading in the polls. His opponent, Tim, is related by marriage to the Lowens, and that alone hurts his popularity. You know how distrusted the Lowens are, especially Blue."
That catches my attention.
"That was your uncle who tried to take him out, right? The failed attempt."
"Yes," Eliano says, with bitterness in his voice. "I’m glad it failed. For a lot of reasons, not just the moral ones. I used the chaos to slip out when the FBI came for Anzo."
Again, I am sorely tempted to ask him more, but once more I bite my tongue. Sitting together on the couch, chatting like this, someone might call it the start of bonding between us, and I really can’t have that.
So we stay quiet for the next half hour, just listening to the program. I’m super aware of him sitting next to me, barely even noticing the talking heads on the screen.
I’ve got the urge on the tip of my tongue to beg him to start purring for me again, but it’s stupid, downright childish. I have to resist it, no matter how good it feels, damn.
Then Eliano glances at the wristband.
"Looks like it’s almost lunchtime. Maybe we should head over and grab some decent seats."
"Sure," I murmur and get up quickly.
Sitting that close to him for so long did something to me.
Hard to put into words, but even without the purring, it felt…
good, or at least calm. There’s this weird sense of safety in the sheer strength he radiates, something solid in his powerful frame.
A few knots inside me even loosened a little, and now I almost regret pulling away.
Eliano picks up his card from the coffee table, and I do the same.
We step out of the module and secure it with our cards.
At the same moment, another couple comes out of the neighboring unit.
An alpha with black, curly hair and a shorter beta with brown hair cut into a bob. The alpha gives us a brief nod, which Eliano returns.
Well, no point in making enemies of the neighbors. They are probably our only ones anyway, since the unit on the other side, number 72, is empty. So I nod as well, and the beta with the bob smiles at us warmly.
They slow their pace, and we fall in step with them, almost by inertia.
"Hi, welcome," the alpha says, extending his hand, which both of us shake.
"I’m Evan, and this is Roman."
"Eliano and Salt," Eliano says, introducing us.
"You’ve just arrived, right?"
"Yeah, one hour ago."
"We’ve been here for two weeks already," Evan adds. "So far it’s been great. They offer a lot of interesting recreational programs, it’s honestly hard to get bored." It sounds almost enthusiastic.
"That’s good to hear. Do you work online, by any chance?"
I listen as Eliano keeps the conversation going. It’s obvious he has an easy way with people, something I completely lack, so I stay quiet, hearing him speak.
I notice that when he gets into longer sentences, a slight accent comes through, maybe they spoke Italian at home. I must admit, I like listening to his deep voice. For a twenty-year-old, it’s surprisingly low. High testosterone?