17. Ella

Chapter seventeen

Ella

S hit. I'm alone.

I'm not sure if this goes against the rules, but Theo did say that I wasn't to be left unattended.

So, what am I supposed to do?

The dishes are done now, but there's still a lot of cleaning to do.

There is a mountain of dirty laundry.

Should I do the laundry then?

Brody showed me how to use the washing machine briefly, and I think I remember the steps.

I'm a quick learner after all.

So, I step toward the mountain of clothes that's almost as big as me, bend to my knees, then lift.

All of their scents fill my nose, and now I resist the urge to bury myself in the dirty pile.

They all smell so good.

I make it to the basement, and I don't even know how the hell I made it down the stairs without tripping and breaking my neck.

I plop the heavy load on the sideboard and take a moment to catch my breath.

That's when I gaze down at my own clothes.

I'm still wearing my prison-issued rags, and I should take them off and clean them for myself, but then I wouldn't have anything else to wear.

But I want to be clean for Brody.

Still, he never balked at me once, and it's a good thing I haven't gazed into a mirror since arriving here.

My hair is a mess; I can't remember the last time I brushed it.

No wonder the guys are all so disgusted with me.

It explains why Kellen didn't want me in Brody's nest.

I would muddy everything with my filth.

There's a shower down here, and when was the last time I even cleaned myself?

The warden used to make us all clean off with a cold bucket of water in the yard, and the whole time I felt the probing eyes off every guard.

In the end, I take off my dirty dress and stuff it into the machine.

The packs' clothes can wait until later.

Now I am in nothing but my prison-issued bra and panties as I check out the guy's clothes.

There are a lot of dirty boxers. One pair has something crusty inside, and that's when I smell Kellen.

Nice. Lovely.

Kellen's clothes can go in a separate wash.

Alastor's are surprisingly clean, and they all bear his lime scent.

The temptation to sniff their dirty clothes is hard, but I put that desperate, needy Omega aside and focus on my task.

I stumble upon a bowtie shirt next and chew my lip.

Now that one I do sniff, and it's like a brief glimpse into heaven.

It makes sense. He is my scent match after all.

Still, I find it hard to let go; I find it hard to clean.

It captures his scent perfectly.

Maybe I can put this one aside just for me.

I'm sure Brody has enough shirts.

I keep stealing glances at the shower. If I want to be more attractive for Brody, then it's time I rid my body of filth.

I'm not sure who's shower it is nor am I sure whether I am allowed to use it.

Making up my mind at last, I head to the shower room. It doesn't really smell like anyone, so I start stripping down, dropping my bra and panties by the door.

Sucking in a deep breath, I creep toward the mirror to meet my reflection at last.

I don't even know the girl staring back at me, but her light blue eyes are the most distinctive thing on her face of dirt.

Her hair is in disarray, sticking about her head like the mane of a lion.

It will take a miracle to get a brush through it.

It will take a miracle to turn the girl in the mirror into something worth looking at.

But who cares in the end? I'm a fighter and I'm good with a knife.

Who needs to be pretty when you know how to slice up an Alpha six ways until Tuesday?

Finally, I approach the cubicle and turn on the jets, watching all the dirt wash away in the drain.

There's shampoo and conditioner in here, and now I attempt to clean my hair and get the mats out.

It's hopeless.

So, I do what I can until all the clumps of dirt are gone.

After I rid the mud from my body, I think of Brody.

I wonder what it would be like if he were inside the shower with me, and now I do something I haven't for a while.

I slip my finger between my legs to take the edge off. It should bring some color back to my pale cheeks for a while.

I've barely seen sunlight my whole life.

Now I imagine Brody in the shower with me, and he's free of all garments save for his glasses.

Those, he can keep on…

I love how they steam in the shower.

He drops to his knees, kissing my stomach. He slips his tongue inside my belly button, and I buck on my finger.

Almost…

Then he moves down further until he finds the folds between my legs and dips his tongue inside.

A cry escapes me and then I come on my finger.

When I pull it back out, it's covered in slick, and now the shower fills with the summery scent of watermelon.

With shaking hands, I reach for some shower gel to rid the evidence from my body.

No one can know.

They will only laugh at me.

My finger is all I will ever have in this life, so I better get used to it.

I step out of the cubicle, looking around for a towel.

Again, something else that hasn't been claimed, so I run it up and down my body until I'm dry. Then I wrap it around my breasts and find a pair of scissors in the drawer.

It's the only way.

These mats are terrible; I could make a fleece out of them.

I get rid of the most stubborn knots, and soon I'm able to get a comb through my hair.

The washing machine still clunks when I pad out of the shower room, and now I sit on a bench, wondering what the hell I am going to wear.

My dress will be too wet.

Plus, I have no clean underwear.

In the end, I search through a pile of clean clothes, finding one with the weakest scent.

It's a man's shirt, and I hope the original proprietor isn't too mad if I wear it.

Once my dress is clean and dry, I will throw it in the wash.

I'm going to need some new undergarments; I need to hide proof of my slick.

I won't have those Alphas sneering and growling at me when they spy it dripping down my leg, knowing I am aroused by the thought of their Omega.

They may just remove my head.

So, I have to wear one of their boxers; I'm sick of my old panties.

The shirt won't hide my rock-hard nipples, though. But I don't shy from nudity. Not now…

Not after I was found naked and covered in blood over the corpse of a dead Alpha.

There's nothing left to hide anymore.

I slip the shirt on as it reaches past my knees, and then I step into a clean pair of boxers, which fit.

My hips are wide enough, and most Alphas have narrow waists anyway.

It's the upper half of their bodies that holds all the mass.

Once I dress, I just sit for a while.

I'm glad I went down into the basement. At least I won't hear the things that Kellen does to Brody, and I ball my fists, wishing I could kill him.

That's my Omega he's touching.

Brody is mine …

"What the fuck?"

Lightning flashes, and now I whirl around, finding those angry obsidian eyes.

My hair stands on end as his energy changes, and now the world ceases to a halt.

Time loses all meaning as I stare at the Alpha.

His eyes are completely black, and his nostrils flare as he takes in my scent.

A low growl vibrates in his chest, and I back away from the bench.

He sends a vicious onslaught of Alpha energy my way, but there's no missing the sweetness of his bitter scent, too.

Theo… is aroused.

"What the hell are you doing in my shirt, Rogue?"

I stammer, and my lip shakes as I try to form the words. I nod my head at the washing machine. "I… I needed some clothes to wear. My dress—"

I don't get to finish. The Alpha storms toward me, and now he drags me out of the basement and up the stairs.

Without a weapon, I am helpless.

I left the knife Alastor gave me, along with Brody's shirt, and now they both hide behind the washing machine.

So now I have no choice but to brace for the inevitable.

I am going to die.

That's what I get for wearing an Alpha's shirt.