Chapter Twenty
Halley
The sun sets and the sound of cicadas trilling fills the aching silence. I’m sitting on my sparse bunk, shoved in the furthest corner of the bunkhouse. The canvas walls billow and balloon with each breath of the light breeze, and it makes me feel like I’m inside a living, breathing creature.
I asked for space after the introductions in a high-pitched squeaky voice, before scampering out of there as fast as I could.
I’m overwhelmed and on edge. Today has been more than I can handle and I’m emotionally wrung out. Each time I picture the hulking Alpha, I cringe. Viper, I remind myself. I don’t know his actual name, but I’m to call him Lieutenant Viper.
It’s so detached. As if I don’t know how his thick cock feels between my thighs, grinding until we both exploded with ecstasy.
How am I supposed to act normal around him?
I already feel desperately attracted to him, and if I’m honest, the others too.
This whole situation makes me feel like I’ve been cast so far out to sea that I can’t even see dry land any more.
I can smell them out there, milling about doing rut knows what. I have no clue what trained killing machines do in their downtime. Play chess? Knit woolly hats? Maim small animals?
I can’t escape them, even in here. Their scents linger on each of the other bunks around me.
There’s a low rumbling hum as the squad chat to each other, and the sound makes the hair on my arms stand on end. I feel like a scared child hiding from a scary monster that lurks just outside her room.
I fuss with the single pillow and blanket on my bunk, moving them again and again until I’m reasonably satisfied with their position. It’s not enough. It can barely be called a bed, let alone a nest.
Back in my dorm is a big, raised bed with a canopy of silks draped over the four posts.
It’s filled with the softest, warmest blankets that have only gotten better with years of love and use.
In my nest, the outside world ceases to exist. It’s the place where I recharge and refocus.
After a day like today, I’ve never needed it more.
My inner Omega whines in distress, clawing at my brain restlessly, causing me to growl low in the back of my throat. An itchy feeling beneath my skin begins, and I know it won’t stop until I can burrow into a safe place.
As an Omega, there are certain things I need. They’re not a nice-to-have, or a personal preference. It’s a need.
I mean, I love piping hot coffee first thing in the morning and I like spending time in the shooting range, but this is different.
I need a nest.
Without a safe place to center myself around, I’ll slowly go mad. Like full-on, lose touch with reality, scratch the eyes out of anyone who tries to interfere, insane.
Surely the squad knows that. It’s Omega-101.
There is a stack of spare, clean blankets in a crate of bedding supplies, and I figure if they’re there, they must be for me to use. So, I take three and do my best to make do. My new nest is sad, but it’s enough to keep me sane.
I shimmy down underneath the blankets and hug the limp pillow to my chest, and press my face into its neutral scent.
It does nothing to stifle the smell of the squad.
I feel like I’m swimming in a pheromone soup, and my body is confused.
I’ve never spent this amount of time around an unmated Alpha before, let alone three and an extremely tempting Beta.
It’s not what I expected. I was half prepared to be crash tackled into the dirt and rutted right then and there.
Prime Asshole dissuaded that whole theory with his obvious disgust.
I wiggle further into my nest and let the weight of the day drag me under into a fitful sleep.
I wake up with a scream as someone mercilessly rips off my blankets. I thrash around in panic, grasping at the air.
“What do you think you’re doing, Omega?” A deep, seething voice cuts through my panic.
My eyes clap on Prime Alpha Knox, and whimper at the fire spitting from his eyes. His scent is tart and acrid, anger souring the usual ink and spice.
“W-what?!” I scramble upright, dazed and desperately confused. For a moment, I don’t know where I am, and terror thumps onto my chest like a heavy weight.
Standing over me is a furious Alpha.
I scoot back on the bed and cower against the headboard with my knees pulled to my chest, instinctively curling in on myself to ward against his harsh gaze.
“Who gave you permission to create… this?” he asks, gesturing at the mass of blankets and pillows now scattered on the rubber mats used for the bunkhouse floors.
I whimper at the sight of my destroyed nest, and curl even tighter in on myself. I slept in my underwear and crop top, because I didn’t have anything else to wear, and the frigid night air bites at my exposed skin.
He growls at me like my fear and lack of response has offended him personally.
“Are you so untrained that you steal supplies at the first opportunity to make a… what is this? A princess bed?”
The disgust glowing in his eyes is the catalyst for the first sob that spills from my lips. I’m so confused, frightened, and alone.
I swing my eyes to the rest of the bunkhouse, searching for Shade to protect me from the irrationally angry Alpha, but come up short.
There’s no one else in the tent. In fact, it looks like no one has slept here at all.
He rips his gaze away from me and bends over to scoop up one of the blankets, and he immediately drops it like he’s been burned, shaking his hand as if he can cast off the lingering traces of my scent.
He looks at me with revulsion.
“How can we make a soldier out of you if you can’t sleep on a standard issue regulation bed? A soldier makes do with the materials provided,” he snarls.
My body is reacting against my wishes, my inner Omega mourning the sight of her destroyed nest. She’s spitting and snarling, but it only manages to paralyze me more. I dig my nails into the thin mattress below.
“It’s… It’s my nest,” I finally respond, my voice weak and shaking.
Prime Asshole freezes, blinking rapidly with his breath held, and I swear I can see the cog turning in his head. The recognition of the word: nest.
If I suspected he’d never spent time with an Omega before, I now know for certain.
He rocks back on his heels, his eyes darting at the mess he made and back at my shivering form.
Another sob shakes my chest, the sound visceral and raw.
He exhales, clenches his jaw, and clears his throat.
“Yes, well. Such a… sleeping arrangement isn’t how we do things in this squad. This,” he gestures to my shivering form, “is a break from protocol.”
I squeeze my knees to my chest tighter. I can feel tears prickling in my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall when he can see me.
“Every Omega has a right to a nest,” I say with a strength I don’t feel.
He stares at me like I’m an alien creature that he’s desperately trying to categorize and is coming up short. Finally, he nods once, his expression serious and unreadable. “This is a temporary solution, nothing more. You’ll need to find a way to make do with fewer supplies.”
Frustration wells within me, bubbling in my throat as I fight not to throw an epic Omega tantrum.
Our designation is infamous for explosive outbursts of the emotional variety and I refuse to indulge in that stereotype.
No, I’m going to prove to this ignorant Alphahole that I’m more than what he expects of me.
So, I nod like a bobblehead, desperate for this conversation to be over so I can breathe again.
“0600, Omega. Don’t be late,” he says and strides out of the room.
I collect the strewn blankets and pillows from the floor, painstakingly arranging them in a semblance of my sad nest.
It’s a desperate, frantic instinct that is only amplified by my shaken nerves. I flinch at every hoot of an owl and the creak of the ancient trees swaying in the gentle wind.
I wait until I’m certain I’m alone for the tears to come, and once they start, they don’t stop.
I shove my fist in my mouth to stop sobs from escaping, and release my emotions. It’s exhausting, but by the time my eyes run dry, I still don’t fall asleep. My body remains in a constant state of awareness. It won’t be calm. Not now that I know it’s not safe to sleep.