Page 10 of Feral: Part Two
I try to sit up carefully to keep from waking him, but the movement sends a sharp pain through my lower back. Everything fucking hurts. My belly feels impossibly heavy, pressing down on my bladder and making my hips ache. The space under the bed that once felt cozy now feels cramped and too small for my expanding body.
As I twist around to get my bearings, I catch sight of Preston on Malik's other side. He's curled up in a ball, his own swollen belly making him look like he's smuggling a watermelon under his shirt. His face is peaceful in sleep, those gray-blue eyeshidden behind long lashes, and for a moment I feel that familiar pang of protectiveness that's been growing stronger every day.
I push up on one of my elbows and wince as my head collides with the underside of the bed frame. "Fuck," I hiss, reaching up to rub the sore spot.
Malik's arm tightens around me, pulling me back down against his chest. His voice is rough with sleep when he speaks, his warm breath tickling my ear. "How are you doing?"
I settle back against him, letting his barely there purr ease some of the tension in my shoulders. The question seems loaded somehow, like he's asking about more than just the bump on my head or the general discomfort of being heavily pregnant. "I feel like a penguin," I mutter, and it's not entirely a joke. "Everything hurts."
The fox part of me wants to find a quiet, dark place to nest, somewhere safe and hidden where no one can threaten what's mine.
Malik's hand moves in slow circles over my belly, his Beta instincts kicking in; that need to comfort and care for the pregnant Omegas in his pack. It should annoy me, this automatic response to my condition, but instead it feels... nice.Safe.
"How about a massage?" he suggests, his voice still thick with sleep. "But like... on top of the bed. I'll make sure all the lights are off," Malik adds quickly.
Before I can respond, my stomach lets out a loud, demanding growl that echoes in the small space. Heat creeps up the back of my neck as I tuck my head into his chest. Malik chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest where I'm pressed against him. "Change of plans. I'll grab you something to eat andthenthe massage."
"I'm not hungry," I lie, even as my stomach betrays me with another rumble.
"That's wonderful, truly," Malik teases. "But I don't need you passing out on me, so you're going to eat."
I sigh, admitting defeat. The truth is, Iamhungry. I'm always hungry these days, my body demanding fuel for whatever's growing inside me.
Malik slides out from behind me before helping me to my feet. My body protests every movement as he guides me up onto the bed, the mattress soft beneath my aching body. The space feels enormous after hours cramped under the bed frame, and I immediately feel exposed despite Malik's promise about the lights. He moves to help Preston up as well, and our other Omega blinks sleepily as he's settled beside me.
"You're looking a bit more swollen than yesterday," Malik observes, running his hand over Preston's swollen belly.
Preston grins sleepily, that lazy, satisfied smile that makes him look younger than his years. "I feel like a little blimp, but a pretty one."
Malik presses a soft kiss to Preston's forehead and I wonder if anyone will ever look at me like that—like I'm precious, like I matter.
"I'll be right back," Malik promises, heading for the door.
As soon as he's gone, I slide off the bed and start pulling blankets out from under the frame. My movements are awkward, my belly making it hard to bend and reach, but I need to do something with my hands. The restless energy that's been building for days is getting worse, which just makes this need even more evident.
"I have no idea how you have that much energy for all that," Preston says, watching me with amusement as I huff and puff my way through rearranging our den.
"It's like your pregnancy is accelerating or something," I reply, pausing to catch my breath. I place both hands on my hips andstretch my back, an audible crack echoing through the room. I let out a garbled moan, Preston snorting as he holds his belly.
"God, I hope not," Preston says with an edge of worry in his voice.
I start rubbing my own stomach, humming a little under my breath as I work. My hands move in slow circles over the stretched skin, feeling the occasional shift and flutter of my babies growing inside me.
The humming continues as I pull more blankets and pillows from under the bed, moving one of the nightstands closer to the wall, the legs scraping against the floor with a harsh sound that makes me wince. Then the chair. I drag it over to create another barrier, another wall between me and the open space of the room. Several moments pass in silence except for my labored breathing and the sound of furniture being repositioned.
Preston watches me from the bed, his gray-blue eyes tracking my movements with a mixture of curiosity and concern. "Did you just build your own little den?" he asks finally.
I pause, looking at what I've created. A small enclosed space is situated between the bed frame, nightstand, and chair, lined with soft blankets and pillows. It's not perfect, but it's better than being completely exposed on top of the bed.
"Getting under the bed is hard, but I don't want to be on top of the bed. It's too open. I just want..." I trail off, frustration building in my chest. "I need..."
My brows furrow as anger flashes through me at my own predicament. Just a few weeks ago, I thought I had finally found my forever, even if some part of me knew I'd probably end up back at Veltmoor eventually. And now I'm pregnant, with a pack that isn't sure if they truly want me.
Well, Preston does. I can see it in those big beautiful eyes of his. And Malik probably does as well, with his gentle touches andprotective instincts. But the Alphas... Kael barely tolerates me, and Thane is kind but distant. They bonded me out of necessity, not desire.
I sigh and look up at Preston. "What's really going on here? I know that I was brought here for some fucked up reason to create aFeralbut I don't understand what Wolfscorge is really for. It's not to rehabilitate us."
Preston shrugs. "It’s an alternative jail, I guess? I'm not part of most of those conversations."
