Chapter 32 – RAVEN
RAVEN
The antiseptic sting of the medical bay fills my nostrils, though I can barely fucking smell it through the blood still crusted in what used to be my perfectly straight nose. Every time I catch my reflection in the chrome medical equipment, I want to scream.
My beautiful face.
My money-maker.
The nose that launched a thousand ships—or at least a thousand desperate johns willing to pay triple my rate just to look at perfection while they got their rocks off.
Gods, what if it heals wrong? My entire identity is wrapped up in being devastatingly pretty. Without my face, I'm just another fucked up alpha with too much trauma and nowhere near enough therapy.
Cosima sits on the examination table like a queen holding court while some poor medic cleans up the bite marks that psychotic feral omega left on her thigh. She's hissing and cursing about Ivy's lack of class.
"Fucking disgusting," she snarls through clenched teeth. "Who the fuck bites someone like a rabid animal? That blyara is lucky I didn't pop her head off like a grape when I had her between my thighs."
"But what a way to go," Nikolai muses, earning himself a half-hearted glare.
I run my fingers through her silver hair, hoping the gentle touch might distract her from her murderous fantasies. The silky strands slip through my fingers like water.
"At least you won this round, goddess," I murmur, keeping my voice soothing even though internally I'm calculating how many plastic surgeons might still be alive in this post-apocalyptic hellscape.
"Won?" She whips around to glare at me, violet eyes blazing. "I was dominating until you all showed up and that bitch decided to use her teeth like some feral wasteland mutt while I was distracted."
Geo nearly chokes on his beer, and that's when he gets a good look at my face in the harsh medical lighting.
"Holy shit, Raven." He sets down his bottle, moving closer with his brow furrowed in obvious concern. "Your nose is fucked."
"Thank you for that stunning observation," I snap, turning away from him. "I hadn't noticed the throbbing pain or the fact that I'm breathing through my mouth like some caveman."
Nikolai pushes off from the wall, circling around to get a better look at the damage. His lips curve into that particularly irritating smirk he reserves for when he's about to be an absolute asshole.
"Well, well," he drawls, adjusting his red glasses. "Looks like you won't be the prettiest male in the pack anymore. Tragic, really. Guess I'll have to bear that burden now."
"You?" I sputter, genuinely offended.
"Let me fix it," Geo interrupts, already reaching for my face with those massive hands that could snap a neck without trying.
"No!" I jerk back so fast I nearly fall off the stool I'm perched on. "Don't you fucking touch it!"
"It needs to be set or it'll heal crooked," he insists, following me as I back away. "I've done this dozens of times."
"On people you were interrogating," I hiss, putting the examination table between us. Cosima watches our little dance with amusement while the medic applies a bandage to her thigh. "After you broke their noses in the first place!"
"Same principle applies," Geo grunts, still stalking me around the medical bay like I'm prey. "Quick snap, barely hurts."
"Barely hurts? It's already broken!" My voice cracks embarrassingly on the last word. "And your hands are the size of fucking hams! You'll shatter my entire face!"
"What's left of it," Nikolai adds helpfully, examining his nails with affected boredom. "Though I suppose asymmetry could be your new thing. Very avant-garde."
"Fuck you," I snarl, still backing away from Geo's advancing form. "At least I started with something worth saving. Your face has always looked like someone set it on fire and put it out with a fork."
"And yet I'm not having a meltdown about a broken nose," he says, that smirk widening. "Maybe because I have other qualities. You know, like a personality that extends beyond being a pretty bird."
"My personality is multifaceted," I protest, dodging around another medical cart. "Ethereal beauty is simply one of those facets."
"Boys," Cosima sighs, but she's fighting a smile. Even in pain, even with some beta currently bandaging her flesh, she finds our dysfunction amusing.
Knight rumbles from his corner, the sound vaguely threatening. Or maybe supportive. With him, it's always hard to tell.
"Come here," Geo growls, his patience clearly wearing thin. "Stop being such a fucking baby about it."
Nikolai blows a puff of air through his nose. "He just wants attention from Daddy."
"I hate you," I tell him flatly. "When I'm beautiful again, you'll be sorry."
"Raven." Cosima's voice cuts through our bickering. "Let him fix it."
I turn to her, eyebrows raised. "You're taking his side?"
Geo uses my distraction to grab me, one arm wrapping around my chest from behind while his other hand comes up toward my face. "Hold still."
"No! Stop! I need a fucking surgeon! Not some underground thug with—"
CRACK.
The pain is instant and blinding. Stars explode across my vision as Geo's fingers expertly snap my nose back into place. I let out a sound that's somewhere between a scream and a whimper, my knees buckling. Only Geo's massive arm wrapped around my chest keeps me upright.
"There," he says, releasing me so suddenly I stumble forward. "Fixed."
I catch myself on the examination table, blinking away tears as I gingerly touch my nose. It's... straight. Still swollen to hell and throbbing like someone's taking a hammer to it, but straight.
"You fucking asshole," I gasp, glaring at him through watery eyes. "You said it would barely hurt!"
"I lied." He shrugs, completely unrepentant. "But it's done now."
Groaning and accepting an ice pack from a sympathetic nurse, I check my reflection in the chrome cabinet door. My nose is definitely straighter, though the bruising and swelling makes it hard to tell if it'll heal properly.
"You look fine," Nikolai says, appearing behind my reflection like a damn ghost. "It suits you."
"Your ass suits you," I growl.
"That doesn't even make sense," Cosima says with a little laugh that makes me feel better immediately. At least she finds the whole thing funny. I'd do anything it takes to put a smile on her face.
As if on cue, an attendant in pristine white robes appears in the doorway, bowing deeply. "The Queen will see you when you're ready."
My stomach drops. The Queen. We're about to meet the fucking Queen of Surhiira, and I look like I've been beaten with the ugly stick. Repeatedly.
"Perfect timing," I grumble into my ice pack.
Cosima slides off the examination table.
Despite the general chaos of the last few hours and her hair being disheveled, she manages to look utterly regal.
Her chin lifts, her shoulders square, and suddenly she's not the traumatized omega we rescued from the wasteland.
She's every inch the daughter of Arthur Maybrecht, raised to command rooms and bend others to her will.
"Well then," she says, her voice carrying that particular note of aristocratic disdain that makes my cock twitch despite this not being the time or place. "Let's not keep Her Majesty waiting."
We follow her out of the medical bay like planets orbiting a particularly volatile sun.
Knight stays close enough that his massive shadow engulfs her smaller frame, while Nikolai and Geo flank us on either side.
I can feel the energy radiating off all of them.
That hypervigilant state that comes from walking into unknown territory with something precious to protect.
The throne room is even more opulent than the rest of the palace, if that's even possible.
The ceiling soars so high it seems to disappear into shadow, supported by columns that look like they were carved from single blocks of white marble.
Gold leaf covers every surface that isn't gleaming stone, and massive tapestries depicting Surhiira's history hang between towering windows that let in slivers of the late afternoon sun.
Plague stands near the throne, having managed to clean himself up and change into fresh robes despite the absolute beating he took earlier. His face is impassive, those cold blue eyes giving nothing away as we approach. Beside him stands another alpha who can only be Prince Revi.
The family resemblance is unmistakable, though where Plague is all aquiline features and lean muscle, this one is broader, with muscled arms and a softer midsection. He's handsome in the same striking way Plague is, but there's a warmth and softness in his features that isn't there with Plague.
The royal regalia suits them both, made of white silk and gold embroidery that was probably crafted by the finest seamstresses in the land. Revi's eyes—the same pale blue as his brother's, but warmer somehow—track our approach with obvious curiosity.
Makes me wonder what Azarel looks like.
Based on everything I've heard about him, if my nose doesn't heal right, I just might lose my spot as the "prettiest male in the pack" after all.
"The new candidates," Plague says, his voice carrying that formal tone that makes me want to do something inappropriate just to see if I can make him break character. "As discussed."
Revi's eyebrows rise slightly, and I can practically see him cataloging our injuries, our ragtag appearance, the way we've unconsciously arranged ourselves around Cosima like a living shield. "These are the ones who kidnapped you?"
"Allegedly," I say, because I can't help myself. "There's no proof."
Nikolai makes a sound that might be a snort or might be him choking on his own tongue. Hard to tell with him.
"There's quite a bit of proof, actually," Plague says dryly. "But that's beside the point now."
Before anyone can respond, the massive doors at the far end of the throne room open with a resonance that seems to vibrate through my bones. The Queen enters, and even my irreverent ass has to admit she commands the space in a way that makes everyone else fade into the background.
Queen Amaya is elegance personified, tall and graceful with sharp cheekbones and full lips that speak of beauty that's aged like fine wine.
Her eyes, so like her sons', scan the room with an intelligence that makes me understand exactly how Surhiira has maintained its power through the apocalypse.
This is not a woman to be trifled with, despite the serene smile playing at her lips.
Plague bows deeply, and Revi follows suit.
The rest of us manage awkward attempts at showing respect—except Knight, who just stands there like a mountain that's decided it doesn't give a fuck about royal protocol.
Cosima is the only one who clearly knows what she's doing as she curtsies elegantly, like she's been in the presence of plenty of royals and dignitaries before.
And I suppose she has.
My heart rate kicks up as the Queen walks directly toward us, her robes whispering against the marble floor.
Every alpha instinct in my body screams danger as she bypasses her sons entirely and heads straight for Cosima, her stone-faced guards in tow.
Nikolai actually takes a half-step forward before catching himself, and Geo's hand drifts toward where his gun would normally be.
Knight's growl is so low it's more vibration than sound, but it's there, a warning that if this woman so much as—
"There you are!"
The Queen's voice is warm, delighted even, as she stops directly in front of Cosima. Before any of us can process what's happening, she reaches out and takes Cosima's hands in hers, her smile genuine and almost motherly.
"My dear child," Queen Amaya continues, her eyes bright with what looks suspiciously like tears of joy. "I've been absolutely dying to meet my future daughter-in-law."
The silence that follows is so complete I can hear my own heartbeat thundering in my ears.
Future daughter-in-law?
Well. I wasn't expecting that.