Page 4 of Adira's Omega

“This is Nyla.” She stood stiff as a board in front of me.

“And what will her position be? I will get a room ready and have uniforms ordered.” I smiled at Hania. She was always prepared and ready to take in any young Beta or Omega that I brought to her, but that wasn’t necessary this time.

“Nyla is my mate.” My arm snaked around her side and pulled her into my chest as my head servants gasped, then righted themselves far quicker than I had expected.

“Oh my.” Hania patted down her skirt and gave Nyla a soft smile. “Welcome, then, Miss Nyla.”

“Welcome,” Gian echoed and bowed again. “I will start sorting out everything for our new addition, shall I, Mistress Adira?”

“Please do, Gian. I will be relying on you for a swift transition since you have helped others with this before. Anything you can think of that she would need, procure it. Firstly, get her on my accounts, her own card, a laptop, and a cell phone.”

Nyla turned her head to peer up at me with confusion in her eyes. She started to speak, but I covered her soft lips with my free hand. “Nyla will pick out her own clothes and some new furnishings for her nest. Hania,” I turned to her, and she met my gaze for a second before dropping it, “have it cleaned and remove anything you deem unfit. Oh, and have Layla meet us in my suite.”

“Right away,” they said in unison.

I waved them off to do their tasks and chauffeured Nyla up the stairs and to the end of the west wing where my suite was located. This place had always seemed massive, even when my family was larger and took up more space. It dwindled, and I took over, so there was far too much space for one person plus the servants that lived here.

The walls were pearl with white trim, paintings of all sorts, and plants of various species. They added some life to this place despite it being a proverbial ghost town.

I gripped the iron handle, turned it, then walked in behind Nyla. The entry room was filled with a sitting area with two large chairs and a window bench overlooking the gardens, another with two couches and matching chairs in front of the stone fireplace, and a table fit for six people, so I could have dinner in my rooms instead of sitting in the empty dining hall downstairs.

Unlike the rest of the house, my suite had a bit of personality. The walls remained a pearl color, but the drapery, paintings, and other furnishings all held a shade of red. It was a stark contrast, and the red clashed against the off-white color, but I didn’t care. This space was mine, and I would do with it as I saw fit.

Nyla stopped partway into the room, then turned around to look at me. She didn’t say anything, simply stared into my eyes, wondering what was next.

“That door,” I said, pointing to the one to our immediate left, “is one of the bathrooms. Specifically for guests. The next one is a small bedroom that I use as my office. Historically, it was for the suite owner’s personal servant. The last one is our bedroom, which has two large walk-in closets and an en suite bathroom with every commodity you could imagine.”

Nyla still said nothing. The room fell into silence as my explanation ended.

“No questions, comments, nothing?” I prompted.

She shook her head and turned away from me, heading to the window seat. She climbed up and looked out the large window. The garden was a radiant sight, or it had been. The lanterns were not lit, and the cloudy sky shielded the moonlight from illuminating the expanse. I found myself wandering around the various pathways when I needed to think, but unless instructed, the lanterns remained unlit at night.

Her forehead fell against the glass as she let out a hefty sigh. “This is a very nice prison.”

I let out a small scoff, but she wasn’t wrong. She traded one prison for another, but this one had some freedoms that no other would allow. “I’d say you could always go back, but I would never allow it. You are mine, Nyla. Get used to the idea, or your time here will be one of suffering in silence.” My words were harsh but true. I wanted her to enjoy life but not at the expense of my happiness.

I squinted my eyes at the back of her head and pulled my braid over my shoulder before starting to undo it and kick off my stilettos.

“There are worse prisons, mate. Does this new life really seem that horrid to you?”

Silence met me. I turned from her and had my hand on the bedroom door handle when she finally spoke.

“No, it doesn’t.” It was only a whisper, and I wasn’t sure it was meant to reach my ears, but I heard it nonetheless. Louder and facing me, she continued, “I am grateful, but—” I quirked a brow, and she stuttered to a halt.

“Continue.”

“But,” she began again, listening to my command which pleased me greatly, “a prison is still a prison even with false freedoms. I will have everything, want for nothing, except it comes at the price of my own free will.”

“Free will is not real, Nyla. We are prisoners in one way or another. I was a prisoner of my family and am still a prisoner of the expectations they set upon me and the rules of this world. I can bend them, twist them until I find a loophole that suits me, but those chains still remain. To think that free will exists would mean you don’t believe in hierarchy, economic classes, emotional and physical restraints…” My hand dropped from the iron handle, and I made my way to her, kneeling in front of the bench and placing my hands on her knees. “Forget about free will, and make your situation work for you. If you want a hot tub in a tree house, it’s yours. An entire room filled with every style and color of shoe, get it. You only like a specific candy that was discontinued? Buy the recipe and a factory. Do you get what I am saying, Nyla?”

Her lips quirked in the corners as she fought a smile. “Yeah, Adira. I do.” Her gaze dropped, and her teeth kneaded at the lower lip. “You forgot to mention that I only get all of that if you get to use me when you want. That’s an important detail.”

The laughter bubbled up inside me before I could stop it. My head fell back, and the room filled with my laughter. Nyla chuckled in front of me as I stood up and gave her a kiss on the top of her head. “Yes, that too. You get to have it all as long as you are mine.”

A knock rang out against the door of the suite, and I called out, “Come in.”

Layla walked in and gave a bow. “Mistress Adira, Miss Nyla.” Her brown hair was up in a bun, pulled back from her round face. She had hazel eyes and olive skin and was only a few years older than Nyla. I allowed some leniency with my staff on what they wore, so instead of what some would deem the typical maid outfit, Layla had on a black shirt, pants, and shoes with a white apron tied around her waist that had a few pockets, a singular loop, and a small receiver attached to it that connected to her earpiece.

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