Chapter 16 – COSIMA
COSIMA
The Surhiiran inn feels uncannily like home. Or rather, what passed for home back in Reinmich.
Polished stone floors beneath my feet, high vaulted ceilings with intricate patterns carved into literally every surface, even the freaking smell. Sandalwood and jasmine, with hints of exotic spices I couldn't name if I tried. Definitely not Reinmichian, but luxurious all the same.
But there's a crucial difference.
No one's watching me. No servants are hovering just out of sight, ready to report my every transgression back to my father or Monty. No guards are stationed at the doors, ostensibly for my protection but really to make sure I don't escape.
I can breathe here.
And that's a dangerous feeling. Comfort breeds complacency, and complacency gets you killed.
Still, as I sink deeper into the plush cushions on the low couch, a glass of something called coriander wine in my hand, I can't help but appreciate the moment of relative peace.
Knight sits on the floor beside me as I stroke his hair, his massive frame still dwarfing every piece of furniture in the room.
His burning blue gaze seems softer somehow, more relaxed.
Geo lounges in a chair by the window, watching the street below with practiced vigilance, drumming his fingers on his outer thigh.
I take a sip of the wine and almost gasp as the flavor explodes across my tongue. Bright, complex notes of citrus and herbs with an underlying sweetness that lingers.
"Holy shit," I murmur, staring at the pale golden liquid in my glass. "This might be the best thing I've ever had in my mouth." I pause, considering. "Present company excluded, of course."
Knight makes a confused growling sound beside me. Geo snorts from his position by the window.
"Surhiira is famous for its wines," Geo says, swirling his own glass. "One of the few exports they allow across their borders. That and some textiles."
"No wonder they guard their borders," I muse, taking another delicate sip. "If I had regular access to this, I'd become a drunk."
"Most Surhiirans don't drink to excess," Geo explains. "They're, uh… overly dignified to say the least."
"I'm sure that doesn't apply fully to the alphas when no one's watching," I mutter into my glass. My body feels loose, my mind pleasantly fuzzy at the edges. Not drunk—I'd need more than one glass for that—but relaxed in a way I haven't been since...
Well, since before I found out Azarel is royalty.
And even that feels like a distant concern right now, washed away by the sweet burn of alcohol and the soft cushions beneath me.
"You'd be surprised," Geo remarks, cracking the spine on the book he seemingly materializes out of nowhere. "Azzhole didn't tell you much about his culture, did he?"
I roll my eyes at the nickname and shift on the cushions, finding a more comfortable position. "He didn't tell me much about him, period."
Geo raises an eyebrow, but even though he doesn't say a word, his silence is full of unspoken judgment. We have that in common.
The door to the suite opens and Raven strides in, looking unfairly refreshed with white clothing and his golden hair falling in perfect waves around his shoulders.
"You look pleased with yourself," I observe, taking another sip of wine.
Raven's lips curve in that maddening half-smile of his. "I've just had my first proper bath in days and I didn't have to boil anything." Geo snorts at that, and Raven looks at him before adding, "We can't all wake up looking flawless."
"Flattery will get you everywhere." I glance past him, realizing we're still one alpha short. "Where's Nikolai? Did you finally kill him and dump his body?"
"Sadly, no," Raven sighs, dropping onto the other side of the couch beside me with practiced grace. "He's out on the balcony, brooding existentially like the anti-hero he thinks he is."
"Is something wrong?" I ask, hating the flutter of concern in my chest.
Raven's fingers find my hair, stroking it gently. The touch sends a pleasant tingle from my scalp all the way down my spine. I find I don't mind at all. Not after the intimacy we shared so recently. "Not exactly wrong. Just... unresolved," he says. "You might want to go talk to him."
I groan, leaning back against the cushions. "Do I have to?"
Raven chuckles, continuing to run his fingers through my hair. "No, goddess. You don't have to do anything you don't want to." His eyes glitter with amusement. "But he might surprise you."
There's something in his voice, a hint of knowledge that piques my curiosity despite myself. With a sigh, I down the last of my wine and rise from the couch. "Fine. But if he ruins my buzz with his brooding, I'm shoving him off the balcony."
Geo grunts in approval from his chair. "Push from your thighs, not with your shoulders. Easier to keep your center of gravity that way."
Raven gives my hand a squeeze before releasing me. Knight shifts, as if to follow, but I shake my head.
"I'll be right back, big guy," I promise. "Stay here."
The white stone of the balcony gleams like polished silver in the soft light of the rising moon.
Nikolai stands with his back to me, his hands braced on the railing as he stares out at the village below.
His white hair looks almost ghostly in the moonlight, and for a moment, I'm struck by how alone he looks. How... vulnerable.
"Are you still moping out here?" I ask, breaking the silence.
He doesn't startle. Of course he doesn't. He probably heard me coming a mile away.
But he does turn, the ghost of a smirk playing at his lips.
"I don't mope," he says, but there's something missing from his voice.
The usual edge, the caustic bite that makes every word from his mouth feel like a challenge.
It worries me more than I want to admit.
"Raven said you had something to tell me," I say, crossing my arms over my chest. The thin fabric of my Surhiiran robe does little to ward off the night chill, but I refuse to show weakness by shivering.
Nikolai's face darkens, and there's a flash of the familiar edge. "That fucking twink and his big mouth," he mutters.
"Well?" I prompt, tapping my foot with exaggerated impatience. "I'm listening."
Nikolai hesitates, and if I didn't know better, I'd think the great warlord of the Outer Reaches was... nervous. He rakes a hand through his white hair, the movement strangely boyish on a man who radiates nothing but menace.
"Listen," he says finally, his voice rough. "I've been meaning to tell you something. Should've told you back in the black market, or hell, back at the compound, but..." He trails off, his jaw working like he's trying to chew through his own teeth.
"But?" I prompt again, my curiosity deepening despite my better judgment.
He takes a deep breath, his shoulders squaring like he's bracing for a blow. "You're my mate," he says, the words coming out in a harsh rush. "Have been since the moment I caught your scent. You can hate me if you want—and I wouldn't blame you—but... it's the truth."
I stare at him, letting the silence stretch on.
"What?" he demands finally, shifting restlessly under my scrutiny.
A laugh bubbles up from deep in my chest, spilling out before I can stop it. "I know."
Nikolai blinks, his mouth falling open in shock before he composes himself with a bewildered curl of his lip. "What the fuck do you mean, you know?"
I walk over to the railing to lean on it, maintaining a slight distance between us as I gaze out at the shining domed roofs of the village.
"You're one of five alphas in the world who doesn't smell like death, shit, or noxious chemicals to me," I mutter.
"I'm not a fucking idiot. I figured there was some kind of connection. "
Nikolai stares at me like I've suddenly sprouted a second head. "I thought… you said I smelled like 'piss in an ass'!"
I cackle, the sound cutting through the quiet night. "Did I say that? I'm funny."
His scowl deepens, and suddenly he's in front of me, one hand gripping my arm to turn me to face him. Not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough that I can't easily slip away.
"So you knew," he growls, his voice dropping to a dangerous rumble. "You knew we were mates this whole fucking time, and you didn't say anything?"
I shrink back from his intensity, wrenching my arm from his grasp. "What was I supposed to say? It doesn't matter."
"The hell it doesn't," he argues, his good eye flashing with something that might be hurt beneath the anger. "Of course it matters. It changes everything."
"It changes nothing," I hiss, and the force in my voice stuns him into momentary silence.
I take a deep breath, trying to collect myself. The wine buzzes in my veins, loosening my tongue more than I'd like it to. But fuck it. We're in a foreign country surrounded by potential enemies. If there was ever a time for raw honesty, maybe it's now, when neither of us might live to regret it.
"I've been a slave to alphas' biological impulses and claims my entire fucking life," I say, wrapping my arms around myself.
"Ever since my omega mark appeared, it's been like a bar code designating my worth and utility to you fuckers who think you have a right to own this world and everyone in it, even when you're the ones who burned it down. "
I slip into Vrissian halfway through, the bitter words flowing more naturally in my mother tongue. Vrissian has always been a better language to curse in.
"Are you talking about men or alphas?" Nikolai asks dryly in our shared language.
"Both!" I hiss. "A distinction without a difference."
I turn away and put my hands on the railing, my fingers gripping the stone railing so hard my knuckles ache.
"A scent match is just one more biological variable meant to give alphas control and keep omegas in line with fairy tales of love and belonging," I continue, unable to stop now that I've started.
"A fairy tale that convinces a sixteen-year-old girl bought and sold to a psychopathic old man halfway across the world that their bond is one of destiny, not perversion.
And in the end, she still died from a broken heart. "
Nikolai stares at me in silence, his expression shifting to something almost... gentle. That expression on his normally hard, cold features is unsettling. "Your mother?" he asks softly.
I don't answer. Instead, I look out at the village again, at the peaceful streets so far removed from the horror and chaos of the wasteland. From Reinmich. From everything I've ever known.
"I never wanted one alpha," I murmur, barely audible over the faint sounds of night birds. "Let alone five."
"What about Azarel?" Nikolai asks, a bitter edge creeping back into his voice.
I scoff, shaking my head. "I thought he was different. Look where that got me."
"Did he know?" Nikolai asks after a moment of silence. His voice is quiet, but there's a dangerous edge to it. One I'm sure has been the last thing many men have heard. "All the shit you've been through that made you hate alphas as much as you do. Did that fucker just sit by and let it happen?"
I bristle at the implication of his words. Some part of me, even now, still wants to defend Azarel. To believe he's the man he always claimed to be. The man he was, at least when we were together.
"No," I say firmly, my mind flickering to the past. To Monty's living room, surrounded in a sea of blood.
A sea of bodies. My mind rebels at the attempt to peer behind walls it erected for a reason, and every time I try, I feel that familiar haze bleed in around the edges of the world. "He didn't know."
"Guess he's not completely useless, then," Nikolai says, looking away.
"Don't get me wrong, I'd put a bullet in his skull in a heartbeat if I had the chance.
But you don't know for certain that he betrayed you.
" He steps closer again, and in the cool night air, I can feel the heat radiating from his body.
"That's what this trip is about, isn't it?
Finding answers. So there's no point having a pity party about it until you know for sure. "
I wheel around to face him, fury bubbling up fresh and hot. "You're one to talk about having a pity party," I hiss.
To my surprise, a smirk curves his lips. "It got you to bitch at me, didn't it?" he says, that glint returning to his eye. "I prefer you wanting to murder me over being sad."
I don't know what to say to that. The abrupt shift in his mood has left me off-balance, searching for solid ground in a conversation that keeps tilting beneath my feet.
He's close now. Too close. I can see the fine lines at the corners of his eyes, lines he's too young to really have, the subtle dusting of stubble along his jaw. I can smell him, too. That unique scent that's been haunting me since the first time I caught it.
We stand in silence for a moment, the moonlight washing over us, and I'm suddenly keenly aware of every breath between us.
"Blood and steel," I mutter finally.
He blinks, confusion settling over his features. "What?"
"That's what you smell like," I say, brushing past him into the house, catching a glimpse of his smirk as I go.
No. Not a smirk. A smile.
There'll be no living with him now.