Page 14 of Prodigy & Tybalt
7
Miraya
Iwas a little… territorial over the nest. But it was fine. I was still days away from my heat, and no one knew. Not Tybalt who hovered outside the door multiple times a day, not the two women who now tried to check on me, getting too close to the door, to my nest. It wasmynest. No one else was allowed in it.
“No one’s going to take the nest from you,” a young woman called through the door. She sounded nice, sweet even, and she had no reason to come check on me. That didn’t stop me throwing my bruised body at the door, ripping it open, and snarling in her face.
“Everly, give her space,” said the other woman—around the same age, but with fair hair in a messy bun compared to the other woman’s glossy brown hair. Both young, both with a quiet kind of strength to them, and a glowing kind of beauty and contentment that only came from an omega-alpha pairing.I narrowed my eyes. Whatever they were selling, I had no intention of buying it.
The blonde’s expression softened, as if she recognised my hostility. “We won’t get too close,” she told me, a deep understanding in her soft blue eyes, in her tentative smile. “I’m Vienna, and this is Everly. We live here, in the clubhouse, and we—well, if you need someone to talk to, who understands how you’re feeling, you know who to come to.”
My smile was nothing like hers. “I don’t need to talk, and I don’t need friends. Thanks, but no thanks.”
Everly pulled on Vienna’s sleeve, a devious look in her eyes. “She’s giving Lynn vibes. Maybe we should send the snarlier girls round.”
“Send anyone to my nest, and I’ll rip their fucking hair out,” I warned.
My own scalp decided to throb where I’d lost hair. It matched all the other throbbing, stabbing points on my body, which refused to be fully silenced even with pain relief.
The blonde, Vienna, gave her friend a pointed look.
“Ah,” Everly said, biting her lip. “Right. Notallthe girls. That would be a bad idea. But we should still—”
I closed the door in their faces, my skin itching, instincts as jagged as the mess I’d made of the huge mattress.
The nest was beautiful. The walls were strung with fairy lights, and matching gold twinkles wrapped around the gold posters of the giant, low-slung bed I’d found piled with fresh, clean nesting materials two days ago when Tybalt ushered me into the room. No windows to make me twitchy. Sound-proofed walls to keep me peaceful (in theory.) Gauzy curtains hung from the bed’s rails to make it even more closed-in and cosy. A wardrobe full of clothes. An en-suite bathroom with baskets of toiletries. It was the nicest nest I’d ever been in, and I couldn’t appreciate any of it because I was in pain twenty-four-seven.
I shuffled back to the bed, moving the sheets, the cushions, the silk dress I’d pilfered from the wardrobe, but it was a mess. It waswrong.And I hated the part of me that knew what was missing. Leather and vanilla. The scent of my mate.
I wanted to scratch those instincts out of myself, but instead I snarled and got into the nest, straightening it as much as I could. And then I laid there, staring at the ceiling, for hours.
By the third day, I was fighting the urge to scratch my skin off as it itched, heat pulsing just beneath the surface. I still had a couple days left, and I could manage these symptoms with the right medication, but I was going stir-crazy. I was bored, and under-stimulated, and I could only stare at the white walls for so long.
It took me an hour to psych myself up, but by nine at night, I wrapped myself in a fluffy champagne-gold robe from the wardrobe, needing the extra fuzziness of comfort to propel me out of the room. It helped that there was some sort of social thing happening in the garden behind the clubhouse, and I could sense them through the wall. Could sensehimout there.
So I hauled my ass out of my room, snapped my teeth at the tall, muscular woman who gave me a wide-eyed look of surprise to see me emerge, and slunk down the hall into the space they called the sanctuary.
It was a vast conservatory-like space, warm and humid and, honestly, unpleasant. I liked cool spaces with crisp air that I could make warm with a dozen different blankets and throws, but I knew some omegas lived for this hot, cloying shit. It just made my skin burn worse, so I quickened my steps, canvassing the place with rapid, sweeping glances.
There was a collection of corner sofas and well-stuffed chairs arranged around a mammoth TV currently displaying a tranquil rainforest, complete with trickling water sounds. Annoyingly, my shoulders dropped from around my ears, and my lungs let inmore air. Huh. Maybe I needed rainforest noises in my nest. Not that knowing that helped me much; I doubted the biker gang took requests.
To my right, a kitchen hugged the wall, managing to be clean and modern while very clearly lived-in. Someone had left a box of cereal on the side, a few cornflakes littering the counter, and the sink was piled with dishes. The urge to clean them itched at me, but I ignored it. This wasn’t like I was a normal guest, where I’d offer to help with chores. I’d been brought here against my will.
I left the dishes where they were and began opening cupboards at random, grinning through the pain cramping my stomach when I found five tubes of Pringles. I grabbed them all—after shaking them to ensure they weren’t empty—and then scanned the rest of the sanctuary for something to do. I’d take a damn board game at this point, or a sudoku book, a magazine, or—
“Thank you, thank you,” I groaned to the gods, hustling over to the small bookcase on the other side of the space, my Pringles clutched to my chest. I balanced them in one arm as I pulled all five books from the shelves, hissing when I almost dropped a book about a sexy dragon shifter. I needed that one, it was essential.Andthe sci-fi book about space battles. And the crime book about a murdered nun. And the non-fiction book about animals native to East Asia. Don’t ask questions; I needed them all.
“Uh,” a female voice said behind me.
I whirled around with a throaty hiss and my teeth bared to find a curvy woman with wavy brown hair, a pretty oval face, and wide eyes fixed on me. She stood a few paces away and didn’t come closer, but it was clear she was confused by the sight of me. Or by my haul.
“Back the fuck off,” I growled. “These aremine.”
She held up her hands, palms towards me. “It’s okay, I don’t want to take them from you. But… are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Mind your own business.” I took slow, careful steps around her, keeping one eye on her as I approached the door, my ankle throbbing even with the painkillers.
“You know there’s real food here, too, right?” she asked in a quiet voice that somehow carried strength, plus a little judgy amusement. “Sure you wouldn’t rather have mac n’ cheese, or a chicken burger?”
