Chapter 6 – GEO #2
Anything with a pulse, really. Although he's been known to check out statues.
But something's different this time. The mask slips, and suddenly, the Raven I know with his swagger and sharp edges is gone. In his place is someone I barely recognize, raw and vulnerable in a way that makes me deeply uncomfortable.
I hope he doesn't cry again.
Fuck, I'm bad with crying people.
"She didn't dump me," he says, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "I didn't even have time to get her name. But she was the most bewitching thing I've ever seen."
I raise an eyebrow, torn between amusement and concern. "You're this attached to a woman you haven't even properly met?"
Raven sprawls out across the couch, my couch, shiny leather boots and all.
"Time has no meaning in the presence of a goddess," he declares, his voice rising as he gazes wistfully up at the fluorescent light bulb dangling from the ceiling.
"I knew the moment I saw her—no, the moment I caught her scent—it was meant to be. "
Yeah, continuing this conversation in the office was the right choice. He's already making a scene.
"Must've been some whiff."
"You have no idea," he says in a hungry tone I've never heard in his voice before. Needy, sure. Horny? Almost always.
But this is something different.
Something I'd rather not have happening on my couch.
"Just tell me what's going on," I say, keeping my voice gruff. "Preferably without the theatrics."
Raven's silent for a long moment, his head lolling to one side. When he finally looks up, his eyes are red-rimmed and glassy.
"She was right there under my nose," he says quietly. Reverently. "The most perfect being I've ever laid eyes on. Silver hair like moonlight, eyes like amethysts. All plush curves and the most glorious ass this world has ever seen."
"Yeah, that's real poetic," I say flatly. "Most of it. But you're surrounded by beautiful women on a daily basis and god knows enough of them fling themselves at you. What makes this one different if you don't even know her name?"
"Her scent," he repeats, sitting up and running a hand through his tangled golden hair.
There's an intensity in his gaze that catches me off guard.
Shrewd and wolfish. "It was like nothing I've ever experienced, and you know I've tasted, smelled and touched every manner of debauchery this world has to sell. "
"She'd better smell like fucking filet mignon if you're goin' on this much about it."
"Moonlight," he answers, and for the first time since he came prancing into my life with a fucking grenade launcher on his shoulder, he's stone cold serious.
Which is funny, considering that's one of the more ridiculous things he's ever said. But the glare he gives me when I can't help but laugh confirms he's not joking.
"Moonlight? You mean her hair, or the way she smells?" I echo, trying not to sound like an incredulous asshole.
It's not going well.
"You'd understand if you were there," he snaps, drifting to that far off place the next instant. "Or maybe you wouldn't."
I resist the urge to roll my eye and swallow the groan building in my throat. This isn't just one of his histrionic fits. It's one of his obsessions , and that's so much fucking worse.
The last one was Nikolai Vlakov.
And it damn near killed us both.
"Alright," I say, winding around my desk and dropping into the battered leather chair that's perfectly worn out.
I reach for my key and unlock the desk drawer—he's probably got a copy of that somewhere, too—and pull out my not-so-little black book.
"Tell me about this 'moonlit goddess' of yours and we'll find her. "
"All I know is that she was with Monty Filch in the Alpha's Alpha," he says, sitting up abruptly. All business now. "At least, I think she was."
"Monty Filch? You know he's?—"
"Dead, I know," he interrupts with an impatient wave of his hand. "Courtesy of the Ghosts ."
The way he spits their name like a curse, I take it things didn't go well when I sent them his way.
Can't even remember what they wanted now.
Something about omegas. A lot of people come to me with a lot of bullshit, but the particular brand of bullshit the Ghosts peddle is one I like to shoo out the door as soon as possible.
"Yeah, no shit. They took out the entire Council and half of Reinmich's tin soldiers," I say, folding my arms. "I hope you're not trying to tell me the Ghosts took your mystery woman, because if that's the case, you're shit outta luck.
If you haven't noticed, they're a little beyond the pay grade of gutter trash like us these days.
" I snort at the thought and mutter, "If I'd known one of them was the fucking crown prince of Surhiira, I would've charged. "
"Speak for yourself," he hisses. "I don't give a shit if that pretty boy germaphobe is the king of the entire fucking universe. I will have her. With or without your help."
I stare at Raven, trying to gauge if this is just another one of his dramatic performances. But there's an intensity in those blue eyes I've rarely seen before. The playful, flirtatious mask has fallen away completely, revealing something raw and desperate underneath.
Fuck .
He's actually serious about this.
Which means he's gonna get himself killed.
The thought causes a dull twinge in the pit of my stomach I haven't felt in long enough it takes me a second to recognize it for sadness.
Huh. Guess I did get a little attached to the flamboyant psychopath after all.
"Okay," I say casually, snapping my black book shut with a decisive thud. "Without me."
The effect is immediate. Raven's face crumples, his bravado crumbling like a sandcastle hit by a tidal wave.
"What?" he croaks, voice cracking. "You can't! Geo!"
I push myself up from my chair, already regretting not kicking him out the moment he stumbled into my bar. But Raven latches onto my arm, clinging to me like a barnacle as I try to make my way to the door.
"You're friends with that serial killer from Vrissia!" he whines, his nails digging into my arm in desperation. "You have an in that I don't!"
I snort, shaking my head. "Saying I'm 'friends' with Valek is a stretch."
But Raven isn't listening. He's in full meltdown mode now, literally hanging off me as I try to leave my own damn office. I stagger under the unexpected weight as he plants his feet on the cheap tile floor. For someone so lean, he's surprisingly heavy when he wants to be.
"I'll do anything ," he pleads, his eyes blown wide. "I'll pay any price."
I've seen that look of frenzied desperation before. If I didn't know better, I'd think he was an addict desperate for his next fix, and I guess he is. He just happened to pick the most dangerous substance there is.
An omega that belongs to someone even more dangerous than him.
"I make plenty of money, thanks," I growl, trying to pry him off my arm. But he's like a fucking cracked out octopus, all limbs and desperate grip.
Raven pauses in his assault, his eyes darting around the cramped office. Even upside-down, I can see the judgment in his gaze. "And you still choose to live like this ?" he asks, doubt dripping from every word.
Annoyance flares hot in my chest. I've worked my ass off to build this empire from nothing, carving out a place for myself in the unforgiving wasteland of the Outer Reaches.
So it's a shithole.
But it's my shithole.
I finally manage to dislodge him, dumping him unceremoniously onto the worn sofa. Without a backward glance, I stalk out of the office and into the pulsing heart of the black market. But of course, Raven follows, stumbling after me like a persistent shadow.
"I'll give you a blowjob!" he calls out, loud enough to turn heads even in this den of depravity.
That's it.
I whirl around, grabbing him by the front of his frilly shirt and yanking him close.
"Listen here, you little shit," I snarl, my voice low and dangerous.
"I didn't want to fuck you when you came begging me for a job at the brothel years ago, and I sure as fuck don't want to now.
I don't like alphas, I hate men, and even if I got a complete fucking personality shift and started tomorrow, you'd be the last."
Raven has the audacity to look offended. Before his eyes get any glassier, I grumble, "Besides, I thought you said you saw me as a father."
"I do," he says simply. "I have an Oedipus complex and daddy issues.
It's part of the fun." He wrenches himself free of my grip and smooths down his ridiculous shirt.
"And for the record, I didn't beg ," he says haughtily.
"You know damn well I was the best whore this cesspit ever saw.
Had the customers lined up around the block. "
Before I can retort, his eyes light up with mischievous glee. He turns, waving coyly to a pair of men across the market. "Hi, boys," he calls out, his voice dripping with honeyed venom.
One of the men, a burly alpha I vaguely recognize as a regular, blushes furiously, while his companion looks like he's trying to melt into the shadows. I roll my eye so hard I'm surprised it doesn't pop right out of my skull.
"Power bottoms, both of 'em," Raven whispers. "The big one likes having a crowbar shoved up his?—"
"Enough!" I bellow, throwing my hands up.
"For fuck's sake, Raven, I'm not helping you find that girl.
There's nothing in the whole damn world I want badly enough to get involved with the Ghosts again," I say firmly, turning away from Raven's little show.
"Especially now that they're in bed with Surhiira. I value my fucking peace."
I don't hear him scampering after me, and he's stopped bitching, so I'm actually starting to entertain the hope that he's given up when the weasel utters the only words in existence that could make me falter.
"Not even if I told you I know where you could find the Harbinger's skull?"
I freeze, a mere few feet away from the sanctuary of my office.
From glorious silence.
From sanity.
Two things that are always in short supply when Raven is around.
I turn to fix him with a murderous glare over my shoulder. "If you're shitting me?—"
"Swear on the gods," he says, holding up his hands.
"Coming from you, that doesn't mean much," I say flatly.
A ghost of a smirk tugs at his lips. "Then I swear on my goddess." His eyes glint with sincerity as he takes a step closer in the dimly lit corridor. "Help me find her and I'll get you the macabre little prize you've been chasing your whole life."
"Not my whole life," I grit out.
Most of it, though.
Ever since I started my own private museum, I've dreamed of owning the skull and antlers of the Harbinger.
It was the first irradiated beast to climb out alive from the hollow left by the Judge, which was the cutesy name they gave to the last big nuke that fell in the war.
The definitive end of the old world, and a mile marker for the beginning of this shitshow the rest of us have been living in ever since.
The Harbinger is a legend. Some say it's just a campfire story and not even real. But it's the kind of thing any bone collector worth his salt dreams of owning.
And just about the one thing on this earth that's out of my reach.
Raven's right about one thing. It is a macabre hobby, but when you've lived your whole life dancing with death, you either learn to live in fear or you fall in love. There is no in between.
"If you're lying, I'll shoot you dead, peel the skin off your skull and put that on display instead," I say, jabbing a finger at the smirking dickhead in front of me. "Do we have an understanding?"
"Kinky," he purrs. "We do."
I grunt an acknowledgment and open my door, holding up a hand when he tries to follow me. "It'll take me a few days to get in contact with Valek. In the meantime, I want to forget you're even here."
"Fine," he says, sulking. "And here I was hoping it could be a family reunion."
I slam the door on his face to make it clear just what I think about that idea.
I should just tell him to fuck off while I'm at it.
There's no way Raven found the Harbinger’s skull. Hell, as obsessed as I am, even I'm not sure it actually exists.
But if there's even a chance…
Well, at least I'll get to satisfy my curiosity about this omega who's got Raven drooling like a rabid dog. Usually, his lovers are the ones chasing him.
And if nothing else, I'll finally have an excuse to kill him.