Chapter 104 Chapter 104

Chapter 104 Chapter 104
(A month later)

Lucas

We sit in front of Lauren in the underground lab where she spends most of her days, watching her as she reviews some data on her computer screen, comparing it to whatever she has written down in a tab.

Satisfied with whatever she's looking at, she clears her throat, sits straighter, and glances at us.

“I've done my research just like you requested me to, and here are the results. Whatever changes that were made to Elorai while she was still growing in the lab where we found her are thankfully not genetic. They are just small iterations made while she was still developing, nothing cellular. Her makeup is just the same as any regular omega that exists out here.”

She explains, staring at us. “All she has now are side effects of living with those iterations. She's completely fine.”

“In other words, we can proceed with the bonding ritual?” I ask, and she nods, her lips pressed into a thin line.

“If you want to. I believe you won't be encountering any issues,” she states.

I nod, clearing my throat. That solves one problem.

“What about the issue of conceiving and birthing? Did you look into that as well?” Ronan asks, his voice low like gravel.

“Yes, I did. She seems fine in that department. What we just need to look out for is her heats. Currently, they don't have any established rhythm, but once she settles down, one should surface, and if the right conditions are met, she should be able to conceive.”

A breath of relief escapes our lips. One of our greatest concerns has also been solved.

My shoulders feel a lot lighter now.

“Thank you for your service,” I say to Lauren. And she nods, a faint blush staining her cheeks as she bows her head.

“You're welcome.”

We rise to our feet then and walk out of the room, heading straight to the living room.

We find Elorai in the kitchen, ingredients sprawled everywhere, flour dusted on her face, and a mixing machine that's going bonkers.

She stands far away from it, her face scrunched up in frustration and disbelief.

I resist the urge to chuckle and walk toward her. “What are you trying to do?” I ask, watching as the contents in the bowl begin spilling onto the counter.

“Baking? I have no idea what's wrong with this thing. It's going too fast and splashing everywhere.”

Turning off the power outlet, I glance at her. “You must have placed it on high speed,” I mutter. “Besides, there's too much batter in this bowl. It's no wonder it's spilling everywhere. Here, bring a bowl and let's cut it in half.”

I say this to her, and she immediately fetches one, bringing it to me.

I pull the bowl out of its compartment and divide the batter into two. Then I fix it back and turn it on again, this time lowering the speed.

It runs smoothly this time.

“There we go,” I say, reaching for a napkin to clean the mess.

“Thank you...” she whispers from behind me, a faint flush on her cheeks. I smile back at her.

“You're welcome,” I answer, and continue cleaning up the counter.

She joins in, and soon the kitchen is spotless. Once she's done, she checks the contents in the mixer and turns it off before consulting the recipe book she has opened on the kitchen island for the next steps.

I stand in the corner, just observing her closely.

“By the way, how did your conversation with Lauren go?” she asks, and I shrug.

“Fine. She said we're all good to go.”

She turns to me. “Really?”

I nod, watching as her eyes flicker with nervous excitement, the blush on her cheeks deepening.

“Oh, that's good to know. It means we can proceed with the bonding ritual now?”

“Yes...”

She smiles, turning to the recipe book. “I'm happy to hear that,” she mutters, her voice almost inaudible, but I hear her all the same.

She returns to what she's doing, pouring the dry ingredients she measured out into the mixing bowl, her brows furrowed in concentration while I watch on, unable to discern what she's thinking.

These last few weeks, there's been a lot of learning and unlearning occurring within us as we prepared for the bonding ritual.

Elorai has grown more comfortable around us and has even begun to build a life here.

Although there are times when her nightmares or memories from the past bother her, they don't have a hold on her anymore, and she's been happier as a result.

I've also learned that Ronan had told her about our intentions for wanting to bond with her, and though I don't necessarily approve of the way he informed her, I surmise it's better that she knows about it now than letting it come out at a much later time, where the consequences would be catastrophic.

At least now she can adjust her expectations accordingly, and so far everything has been smooth sailing.

“Oh... something smells good!” Knox announces as he pops into the kitchen.

Elorai glances at him, a chuckle escaping her lips.

“It's not even ready yet. How can it smell good?” she asks, putting the dough on the table and shaping it into small balls.

“What are you making?” Knox asks, taking a bite of the dough.

“Cookies...” Elorai answers, rolling the dough in her hands before placing it in the pan.

“Oh... I've never had homemade cookies before. I can't wait to taste this.”

“Don't get your hopes too high. This is my first time trying something like this, and I'm not sure I'm following the instructions correctly.”

“Whatever you make, I'm sure it'll taste good,” he says, pinching her nose before grabbing an energy drink from the fridge and ambling out of the room.

Elorai watches him go, rolling her eyes, though a smile still stays on her lips.

“You're sure you don't need any help with that?” I ask when she glances at me.

“No... but thank you for the offer.”

I smile.

We linger around, waiting until she's done baking and have our share of our creations.

It tastes surprisingly good for her first time.

Even Lauren joins in to have a bite of the cookies, complimenting her as she chews on one.

Elorai is all smiles and blushes, hiding her face behind her flour-coated hands when the praises become overwhelming.

I glance at Lauren, who over time has grown comfortable in our presence, interacting with us like we're cordial friends.

“Lauren?” I speak up, and her gaze darts toward me.

“Yes...” she answers, her voice muffled as she's in the middle of a munch.