Chapter 44 Flora
Flora
Over the years, I’d experienced my fair share of headaches. They were par for the course when studying something like advanced mathematics. Plus, there was dehydration, the odd bump here and there, and even hangovers on the rare occasion I actually drank.
This headache, though, was worse than anything I had ever gone through.
My head pounded like a damn freight train as I turned over, trying to get comfortable.
My skin itched, and my mouth had a weird, dry, metallic taste to it.
I’d only gotten really drunk a handful of times, and while this was similar, everything felt much worse, and somehow much more like waking up after anesthesia.
I’d had my wisdom teeth taken out just before college, and, aside from the headache, it was very close to my current level of discomfort.
My eyelids were heavy, like I had napped a little too hard.
Instinctively, my hands reached out to grab any of my alphas or another pillow to bolster my head, improving the weird angle it was at.
But the surface below me was quite hard, actually.
My nest was a lot softer than this. Had I fallen asleep on the sofa? Or, more likely, the floor?
Why would I be on the floor?
But no. I was on a sheet. The fabric I was lying on was too scratchy, though, not the plush blankets I had stashed all around the apartment.
The guys had even changed their own bed sheets to the ones I preferred.
They did it several weeks ago, pretending they were doing it for themselves, but deep down, I knew it was thanks to my love of high-thread-count, ultra-fancy sheets.
Ugh, you need to get up. You need to deal with the academic probation thing.
It took monumental effort, but after a few minutes, I managed to open my eyes. They were thick and heavy with sleep, my vision somewhat blurred, but I looked around anyway, rubbing away the sleep so I could see better.
I was in a bed, but not one that I recognized. When I sat up, I looked around groggily, my eyes landing on one of the throw pillows. Circular and pink.
I knew that pillow—I knew it well, in fact. It was the one that had gone missing from my nest a few months earlier.
What the…?
My stomach dropped, my throat constricting as tension squeezed each muscle, my blood pumping with surging levels of adrenaline… and fear. Through the haze, my mind replayed the last few hours, a chopping mishmash of events stitched together hastily.
I had gone to the university’s faculty building. I was meeting people… professors. Because… of my grades. Yes, the academic probation. I’d been sitting in a chair, something had felt wrong when I met with—Ugh, Lyle!
Lyle.
Rage swelled behind the consuming fear. He had been the one stalking me. All the times I sat with him during class and waved to him in the hallway, never knowing he was the one terrorizing me.
My stomach turned over violently, and it took everything I had not to hurl.
His scent was surrounding me, twisting my stomach into knots. I was in what I supposed could be described as a nest, but it was the most pitiful nest I'd ever seen. Several items of clothing lined the space, and by their size and shape, I could tell they belonged to him.
The room was minimal and clean otherwise, a nondescript space that didn’t tell me much about where I was.
The furniture was eerily familiar. It took a moment for my brain to recognize that it was all standard dormitory furniture.
The stuff you’d find in the rooms and shared spaces of any one of the halls on campus.
There was no way I was in one of the regular dorms. Even by their low standards, it was way too cold and small. Plus, I would have been discovered far too quickly if Lyle had just brought me to a dorm. Still, there were a few older buildings on and around campus. I could be in one of them.
I took stock of my body. All my clothing was still on, but my shoes were on the floor next to the excuse for a nest. I grimaced, shuddering at the thought of Lyle handling me.
I moved to get out of bed. I didn't want to be surrounded by his scent anymore.
Figuring out where I was and how the hell I was going to get out was my priority.
Only, as I went to swing my legs around to get up, something around my ankle pulled taut, stopping me.
When I pulled back the blankets, I saw a silver cuff secured to my ankle, attaching me to the bedframe.
Fuck.
Giving it a few experimental tugs got me nowhere fast. They were clearly heavy-duty and wouldn’t break easily.
Worse, yanking on them was loud and cut into my ankle.
Picking the lock would be a better option, but I had no idea how to do that, and even if I did, I didn’t have anything to jimmy it with.
While I had no solid idea what Lyle wanted, I knew it couldn't be good. He’d hinted that I belonged to him and him alone in his threatening messages. I needed to get the hell out of this room and back to my pack.
My pack.
Spencer had just been outside the door. He couldn’t be too far behind me.
My pack consisted of three specialist security personnel. Surely, they were coming for me. I had no doubt they would be on my tail, but how long it would take was the question.
Everything in me wanted to get violent, to smash the room apart, to rip my leg from that stupid cuff.
Some random teacher’s assistant, who was supposed to help students, had kidnapped me.
My eyes burned as I squeezed them shut, forcing myself not to fall apart.
But I felt so violated. He’d been spying on me, peeking into moments that didn’t belong to him.
Lyle had only been useful during class because he had an agenda, and it didn’t matter to him that I didn’t want this, that I wasn’t interested in him.
No did not mean no in Lyle’s mind.
I wanted to scream, the need burning in my throat.
Only, even in my hazy, post-drugging state, I knew I was being watched. Spencer had found a camera when he was planting one of their own. It had to have been Lyle.
So, it was a safe bet that I was being watched—again. My skin crawled, and I instinctively pulled up the blanket, hiding myself from view. I was an insect being inspected under a microscope by some creep.
The blanket smelled of him.
Even though I couldn’t leave the bed because of the cuffs, I did my best to shove all the clothing and bedding he had placed there away from me, pushing it to the side. The last thing I wanted was to lie on that psychopath’s clothing.
“I see someone’s awake.”
I snapped upright, scooting myself as far away as I could. My back flattened against the cold wall, and I stared straight ahead with my knees pulled up to my chest.
“You.”
“Flora,” he smirked, the curve of his mouth lifting in a way that pulled nausea up from the depths of my stomach, “you really should be getting comfortable. I went to all that work.”
He was wearing his usual slacks, a button-down, and a sweater vest. Lyle’s hair was slicked back, oilier than usual. His eyes were bloodshot, dark circles beneath them like he hadn’t slept in days.
“I really am so pleased you’re finally awake.” He beamed happily. In his hands were a packet of crackers and a bottle of water.
“Why am I here?” I demanded.
“You’re here because we belong together, silly.” Lyle’s tone made it sound like it was the most obvious thing. How could I not see that? And I forced myself to swallow the rising bile.
“What on earth are you talking about? I need to go home to my pack—You need to let me out of here.”
Lyle took a step forward, the crackers crunching in his grip as he glared at me, his eyes losing any sense of softness they had when he entered the room.
“It wasn’t meant to be like this!” he hissed, pacing up and down. “Everything was going to plan, and then you had to ruin it by degrading yourself and bonding with those idiots!”
I didn’t sniffle or cower, but I wouldn’t leave the safety of the wall, either. “You can't keep me here, Lyle.”
Smoothing a hand down his vest, Lyle attempted to collect himself, a false pretense of civility painted over his inner monster.
“I know this is only temporary,” he said, looking around at the dilapidated room. “I've got a much nicer cabin, but it’s a bit of a drive away. We need to be prepared. You’re going to love it there.”
A cabin. No doubt, far more isolated than whatever building I was in.
If I was going to get out of here, I needed to do it before he moved me. But if I pushed back too quickly, he would get angry. I needed to placate him, at least for now, because he was far more unstable than I realized, and I was afraid that was an understatement.
“Lyle… this is wrong. You know it’s wrong,” I pleaded, trying to keep my voice smooth and even.
He adamantly shook his head, jabbing a finger at me. “This is the way it’s got to be! You’re too precious to be out there—getting defiled by those disgusting alphas. I can’t let that happen!”
His voice rose, and the wild look in his eye intensified, his brows rose to his hairline and, his veins bulged in his neck and temples.
“I’m the only one really looking out for you, Flora. You’ll learn to appreciate me, I know you will.”
I wasn’t sure which was more terrifying.
When he was screaming at me, or the quiet voice he used now.
My pulse thumped in my neck and chest, each beat hard and weighty.
I couldn’t stay here. There was no telling what this man wanted to do with me.
All this talk of being perfect, of being his.
I could imagine what he meant, and it forced more tears to the surface, making any skin exposed to the air or any bit of me too visible, feel vulnerable.
The way he looked at me made me feel dirty. “You’ll see,” he said, nodding, not meeting my eyes. “You’ll see in no time. I’m what you need, not them. They’ll see soon enough, too. They’ll know their place.”
I couldn’t speak, terror stealing my voice. He was going to hurt my pack. I could see it in his expression, hear it in his voice, and I’d be left alone—with him. I shuddered, pulling into myself with a sob as Lyle reached forward for me. He stopped, but I knew that wouldn’t always be the case.
“You’ll see,” he repeated, before turning and leaving the room, closing the door behind him.
The click of the lock engaging was unmistakable.