Chapter 3 #3
“Have you never seen an Omega make a nest before?” Ren scoffed. “We need soft things, and things that smell nice.”
Falk’s eyebrows raised even higher on his forehead. “Do I smell nice to you?”
“Of course you do,” Ren said before he could stop himself. He quickly added, “Most Alphas do—that’s the whole thing, isn’t it?” The lie sat far easier on his tongue than the truth.
Falk considered it for a moment before looking down at himself, he shook his head, “I don’t have anything on underneath this.”
“That’s fine, I don’t mind,” Ren said, smiling sweetly.
“I mind, it’s cold down here,” Falk countered.
“Yeah, it would be terrible if you were cold,” Ren said. “Maybe you should wear something that covers your arms, then.”
“Maybe I will bring you some other clothes another time,” Falk said.
Ren sighed, not believing his promise for even a moment. He walked back over to his bed, vaguely wondering how many times he would make this journey—back and forth and back and forth and back and forth—from his bed to the barred wall that stood between him and Falk.
“What are you doing?”
Ren peeked over his shoulder once he fully pulled his sweater off over his head. He held it in front of his bare chest—he wasn’t shy, just cold. He could feel little bumps appearing over his now, naked skin. “Making my nest,” he said.
“Why are you taking off your clothes? You are going to get even colder,” Falk said.
“You won’t give me yours!” Ren argued.
He turned his back to Falk again, kneeling on his mattress and moving the blanket and his sweater around until it formed some semblance of a circle.
He wished he could fish out the black wool beneath his mattress, but he didn’t want Falk to take it from him.
When he laid in the small circle, he could tug one end of the blanket around himself and bury his face in his own sweater.
It was probably the worst nest that had ever been made, but he would have to deal with it for now.
Ren heard a soft rustling sound, muffled by how he had pulled the blanket over his head. And when he pulled the sheet away from his face he was greeted with the sight of tan skin, hard muscles and a scowling Falk holding his shirt through the bars.
“You look pitiful,” Falk answered the question Ren hadn’t asked.
Ren grinned as he rolled out of his tiny cocoon and over to Falk.
He grabbed the shirt, debating if he should put it into the nest or not.
He decided to pull the shirt on over his head instead.
It was a bit big on him, and not as warm as his own sweater, but it smelled wonderful whenever he lifted the collar to his nose.
His eyelids fluttered shut at the scent of cloves, and a hint of smoke.
“Now stop complaining about being cold,” Falk huffed. Ren grinned when Falk sat back in his chair, now entirely topless and trying to ignore the little, chilled bumps appearing on his skin. “And stop complaining you are hungry. You look like you’ve actually gained weight since coming here.”
Ren smiled as he curled his arms around his stomach and tucked himself into his little nest.
Ren glared from beneath his blanket when he heard the familiar voices coming down the steps, laughing and joking back and forth with each other. It was the same two Alphas—the ones with the blonde and black hair.
Ren scowled as he sat up, moving toward the slot in the bars to get his meal.
“Ah, how is our little Omega?” The Alpha asked when he saw Ren waiting.
Ren ignored him, gaze locked on the plate of food. He could feel his gut churning, bile eating at his stomach and esophagus in search of food. He swallowed dryly; he also hadn’t had any water since Falk left a while before.
“I swear you get fatter every time we come down here,” the black-haired Alpha sneered, gaze raking up and down Ren’s form.
Ren said nothing, just flexed his stretched-out fingers.
“I don’t think you need this,” the blonde Alpha hummed in agreement, holding the food right out of Ren’s reach.
“Please,” Ren said. He knew how much Alphas liked to hear Omegas beg—knew it did something to their sick little brains. “Please, I’m hungry.”
“Show us,” the guard laughed. “Take off your shirt and show us how hungry you are.” Ren’s lips pressed into a fine line, fingers curling around the hem of his shirt. “Ah, that’s right, cause you’re getting chubbier, not skinnier, right?”
“Falk is always sneaking you extra food, and so are the rest of these Alphas,” the blonde said, waving a hand at the rest of the inmates. “Don’t think we don’t know about it.”
“Give him his food, Do,” a voice called from deeper into the prison.
Ren recognized it. He had started to recognize most of their voices—especially the ones who had been looking out for him.
He didn’t know what he did to deserve their kindness.
“I will tell Falk that you’re trying to starve the poor boy when he comes back. ”
“And what would he do about it?” The Alpha asked. “He has no more power than you all do. He’s just a rookie.”
“The kid is barely more than a pup, he’s still growing. Give him his dinner,” another voice called out. Ren could see the prisoner pressed against the bars, trying to glare down the hallway at them.
“Fine,” the man snapped.
Ren stepped back when the man wrenched the little door in the bars open, thrusting the food through the gap for Ren to take.
Ren gasped, watching in horror as the man’s fingers uncurled from the plate before he could grab it himself. The sound of the plate hitting the ground, shattering on the hard stone, rang in Ren’s ears as he blinked slowly down at the rice, bread, and soup that laid at his feet.
“Whoops,” the guard said with a huffing laugh.
Ren raised his eyes slowly, staring at the man as his lip quivered.
“Here’s your water,” the other guard said.
Ren shrieked as ice cold water splashed over his skin, soaking him straight through the cotton of Falk’s shirt.
He rubbed at his face, shoving his wet hair from his forehead as he jumped back, away from the bars before the Alphas could throw anything else at him. The cold was already creeping into his veins, chilling him from the inside.
He could hear shouts of anger from the other prisoners, could hear the guards’ laughter, but all he could focus on was how cold he was – how hungry he was.
Ren sat heavily on the side of his mattress, immediately tugging the soaked sweater over his head and throwing it as hard as he could against the wall. He also shimmied out of his pants, knowing the icy water would also chill him to the bone eventually. Luckily, his socks hadn’t gotten wet at all.