Chapter 17
CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN
Xavier
I really want another cigarette, but my weekly quota’s more than gone and the only thing that can kill the craving for more when it sneaks up on me is Emmie.
Emmie and my crumbly smell from the cigarettes.
Oh, I know what’s caused the craving for another, and even if I give in, it won’t help.
I shouldn’t have stopped.
One small delivery on the Upper Side, that’s all it was meant to be. In and out, and not stopping for anything.
“Riven?”
The gruff voice catches my attention, but I don’t step out of the shadows and onto the dock. I need a moment to breathe.
The industrial wastelands, as I call this part of the city, way down past the Lower Side, are the plants that keep the rich and their places lit, smelling good, and running. They keep the rest of it running, too.
Here and there are small manufacturers for things needed on the island. But most of that is on the mainland.
There’s nothing pretty down here, but it’s honest and I like it. Something like this, with the pools of shadows between the locked storage houses and the crates might’ve scared me when I was real small, but not now. Not ever again.
This is one place that makes Killian uneasy. Not that he’d admit it, but there’s a lot of wood, and tons of flammable items and liquids both in the plants and here on the docks to do that to him. And roles reversed, it’d freak me the fuck out if fire and being trapped was my Archille’s Heel.
Put me in with a lynching mob…
That ship’s sailed. I’m not worried about me. I’m big, strong. It’s Emmie. Killian. If something happened to me, he’s here, but if I was gone and he got in over his head… Or worst case, something happened to her…
Don’t go down that fucking path , I tell myself.
There’s no trouble this early in the evening. There’s not even any illegal activities.
I just always get here first so Killian’s in and out.
These docks and the official ports are important to us, just like the more unofficial and illegal ones. Our delayed shipment’s here and I need to sign for the liquor that keeps us running, on paper.
We run on a lot more than the sanctioned shit.
I lean against a graffitied wall, knowing Maldon saw me, or at least my shadow. I’m hard to miss and most people have left for the afternoon.
I bite back a sigh.
In and out and not stopping for anything.
Done deal on paper, done deal countless times.
But no one factored in a dark-haired brat of an angel in thick soled sneakers and a kilt style plaid skirt, T-shirt, and too much lipstick and eyeliner.
Yeah, and Iris can handle herself.
That’s obvious.
So I really shouldn’t have stopped. The air is salt and garbage and a touch of fish guts, the kind of perfume that can’t be bottled.
Not even the joke takes the edge off.
Because stopping was stupid. A bad call. Iris doesn’t need to be associated with me, especially if she decides to join the movement. Killian’s confident because he knows he can charm both the pants and any doubts right on off of her.
If she doesn’t catch the movement’s fever, he’ll make her chase it.
And me?
I don’t think I’ll stop it, even though I should.
But I heard her, the acid and passion and conviction. Her hatred of the status quo. She’s the kind of Omega neither of us want in our lives, but Emmie’s taken to her more than anyone I’ve ever seen her take to.
She doesn’t remember her mother, so I can’t throw her under the bus.
“Riven, I know you’re there.”
Maldon’s tone’s irritated, not condescending. Shipments come in when they come in and there was some kind of delay, so he’s backed up.
With a sigh I push away from the wall and round the corner.
“Catching the view, are you?”
I take out my notepad and write.
Up your ass, Maldon.
“Fuck no,” he says, opening the large crate for me. “You gotta pay for that view. Mighty pretty, they say.”
I’ll take your word for it. I prefer the beauty of the area.
“Real pretty, here.” He chuckles, as he gestures with the crowbar at the boxes. He sets it down, then picks up the clipboard, flipping pages. “It’s all here, some extras. The usual price.”
I check over it, as a show, because I know him, it’ll all be there. I pay him from the roll of cash in my pocket as a truck rumbles up and Killian jumps out. All killer smiles, as if the area doesn’t bother him. But I see the slight tightness around his eyes. He gets the dolly. “Ready?”
I nod.
“Black,” Maldon says, looking over at the big ship where some men start to crane some more crates off.
They weren’t there before so they must have been waiting for orders. Both Killian and I did some work on the docks in the mainland. His thought was if we understand how it operated then we’ll know when something’s off.
This isn’t off, this is just them probably sitting in the work room, waiting for clearances.
He looks back at us.
“Something up?” Killian asks.
Maldon scratches his head. “Meant to tell Riven… There’s been some trouble. A couple of Council crackdowns on the mainland, the small part that’s been renamed Sabine West.”
Killian’s relaxed but near me the air changes, becomes charged and I step in. Does it concern us?
“Not unless you got business there and a pack. Seems the Council is against unsanctioned packs, against matings that involve more than one Alpha and one Omega.” He shrugs. “Same old same old. But no, I just thought since you got that bar, you might hear things.”
“We always hear things,” Killian says. “It’s part of the territory.”
I write.
Like what?
“Like if there are plans for any kind of uprising or rebellion to be careful. The Monarch’s heard chatter and is on the warpath there. Maybe here. Anyway, it’s probably just the usual panic over not enough classy Omegas or something. Can’t let the grimy Alphas near ’em, am I right?” Maldon laughs.
If we hear anything, we’ll pass the message along, but it’s Sabine City, so people like the status quo.
It’s a lie. Especially among the poor, those who prefer an alternate lifestyle, those who aren’t Alpha and Omega elite. But it’ll do.
“Thanks, Mal,” Killian says. “We’ll get this loaded.”
The drive is silent as we head back to the Lower Side.
With a sigh, and because he’s not fucking looking at me, I use text to voice and say, “Out with it.”
Killian’s eyes flicker a moment to mine.
Everything else in Sabine City is close, except for this part of town. The rich don’t want even the Lower Side tainted by the waste and noise and smells that keep their lives running smoothly.
“Out with what?”
My fingers move over the keyboard.
“With,” I say, “whatever’s on your mind.”
He takes a hand off the wheel and knocks my phone out of my hand. “Nothing’s on my mind.”
I saw her today. In the square. Pretty thing, isn’t she?
“Who?”
My smile comes even as I try to stop it and it wouldn’t take much to close my eyes and let my hands remember how silky soft and warm her skin was when I danced with her. Or how hot and sweet the kiss that moved through me like a slow-motion tidal wave happened to be.
His irritated reply says he’s not immune at all.
Not that he’s ever tried to be.
Iris.
“Talking to her in public’s stupid, Xav.”
Talk? How?
“You know exactly what I mean. She might be useful to the cause.”
That wipes all smiles from me, and I reach down and pick up my phone. You want to use her?
His hands tighten on the wheel as the Lower Side starts to surround us. He’s paying more attention to me than driving, which probably isn’t the wisest thing, but whatever. “I don’t fucking know. She said she hates the whole thing.”
You think someone like that can help us.
“If pushed and led in the right direction.”
I turn, looking right at him. What are you saying?
“I’m saying she’s attracted to us both. We can use her.”
Sexually? She’s a fucking virginal Omega who’s on the cusp of blooming.
“Going into heat.”
I’m being fucking polite.
He laughs as he navigates the streets, heading to the back alley that leads to our cellars. “You’re being soft. I mean use her heat, use her attraction, get her on board, and turn her into an asset.”