Chapter 35 – COSIMA
Chapter
Thirty-Five
COSIMA
M y feet are freaking killing me.
Each step sends jolts of pain shooting up my legs, but I grit my teeth and keep walking.
The Knight's heavy footsteps behind me are steady and unwavering despite his injuries.
I try not to limp, but after hours of trudging through the wasteland in stolen boots that don't quite fit, my body betrays me.
A particularly sharp rock makes me stumble, but massive hands scoop me up before I hit the ground. I tense instinctively as the Knight's metal claws prick my skin through the raider clothes, but his grip is surprisingly gentle. He cradles me against his broad chest like I'm made of glass.
And I might as well be compared to him.
"Fine," I mumble, letting myself relax against his scarred chest. His warmth is already seeping into my aching muscles. "But only because my feet hurt."
He rumbles in response, the sound vibrating through his chest and into my bones. The rhythmic sway of his stride is almost hypnotic, and I find myself drifting, feeling oddly safe in the arms of my former nightmare.
When the first signs of civilization appear on the horizon—scattered lights amidst ruins and the distant hum of generators—I tap his chest. "Put me down. We're getting close."
He sets me on my feet with surprising care. A rusted metal hatch juts up from the scorched earth ahead. The entrance to what must be the black market's underground network of tunnels. Even from here, I catch glimpses of light seeping through the cracks.
I approach the hatch cautiously, my eyes scanning for any signs of guards or security measures. The metal is corroded and weather-beaten, covered in a fine layer of rust-colored dust that seems to coat everything in the Outer Reaches.
Gritting my teeth, I wrap my fingers around the edge of the hatch and pull. The metal is rough against my palms, flakes of rust coming away like dead skin. I strain, muscles trembling with the effort, but the damn thing won't budge.
"Shit," I mutter, wiping my hands on my stolen pants. I glance at the Knight, who's hanging back in the shadows of a burned-out building. "I don't suppose you could?—"
Before I can finish the thought, he's already moving.
His massive frame emerges into the sunlight, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe.
The way the light catches on his scars, on the metal grafted to his flesh.
.. he looks like something out of an old world myth. A fallen god of war and violence.
He reaches past me, metal claws gleaming as they dig into the edge of the hatch. With one fluid motion, he lifts the heavy metal door as if it weighs nothing at all. The hinges screech in protest, the sound echoing across the wasteland.
I find myself staring up at him, transfixed. The sun blazes behind him, transforming his white hair into a silver halo and casting his scarred face in dramatic shadow. Those haunting blue eyes lock onto mine, glowing with an intensity that makes my heart skip.
For a split second, I see him as he might have been before they turned him into this. Before the scars, before the metal, before the pain. Just a man, looking down at me with something that feels dangerously close to devotion.
Then he growls—a low, warning sound that vibrates through my chest—and the moment shatters.
Right.
Don't look at him.
We're not here to stare at each other like lovesick kids, anyway. However long I've been dreaming about him.
"Thank you," I say softly, ducking under his arm to peer into the darkness below. The tunnel stretches deep underground, lit sporadically by flickering electric lights. The air wafting up smells like sweat and motor oil.
Gross.
That shitty alpha must be from here. Lux? Lax? I've already forgotten, and I don't care. Kind of hope she's in pieces right now with the rest of those assholes.
The Knight makes another sound, this one questioning. When I glance back, he's studying the tunnel with obvious wariness.
"It's okay," I tell him, though I'm not entirely sure it is. "Just... try not to kill anyone unless they attack first. And maybe not even then, depending on who it is. We don't want to draw attention."
I swear I see confusion in those glowing eyes. Like the concept of not immediately murdering potential threats is foreign to him.
Which, given what little I know about his origins, it probably is.
"Look," I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. "I know this isn't ideal. But we need supplies, and this is the only place for miles that might have what we need. Just... follow my lead, okay?"
To my surprise, he nods. The gesture is still jerky, unpracticed, but it's there.
I take a deep breath, squaring my shoulders. "Right. Let's do this."
The metal stairs leading down into the darkness look sturdy enough, though they creak ominously under the Knight's weight as he follows me. Each step echoes off the concrete walls, announcing our presence to anyone listening.
So much for stealth.
But as we descend deeper into the underground market, I can't shake the feeling that we're being watched. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and beside me, the Knight lets out a low, continuous growl.
I lead the way into the crowded tunnels, grateful for the Knight's looming presence behind me.
Most people give us a wide berth, their eyes widening at his massive frame before quickly looking away.
The stolen raider clothes and lingering cologne mask my omega scent well enough, but I still feel exposed.
A merchant catches my eye. Well-dressed, pockets bulging with what's probably a decent stack of currency. I flash him my most seductive smile, swaying my hips as I approach. "Looking for company?" I purr, channeling every ounce of omega allure I can muster through the cologne.
His eyes rake over me hungrily.
Perfect.
The merchant's eyes darken with interest as I sway closer, making sure to accentuate my curves. His gaze lingers on my chest, then drops lower, exactly as I'd hoped. Men are so predictable.
"How much?" he asks, his voice husky.
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Instead, I trail my fingers down his arm, leaning in close. "Why don't we discuss that somewhere more... private?"
He nods eagerly, already reaching for his coin purse as he follows me into an alley. Just a few more seconds and I can?—
His hand shoots out, grabbing my wrist in a bruising grip. "Actually," he growls, yanking me against him, "I think right here is fine."
Shit.
This isn't going according to plan.
I try to twist away, but he's stronger than he looks. His other hand grabs my hip, fingers digging in painfully as he shoves me against the wall. The impact knocks the breath from my lungs.
"Let go," I snarl, abandoning the seductive act. My nails rake across his face, drawing blood.
He just laughs, pressing closer. His alcohol-soured breath washes over me as he leans in. "Feisty. I like that."
Before I can knee him in the balls and turn him into a permanent soprano, something dark and massive moves in the shadows behind him.
The merchant freezes as an inhuman growl fills the narrow tunnel. His eyes go wide with terror as he slowly turns his head.
The Knight emerges from the darkness like a demon straight from hell, his blue eyes blazing with murderous fury.
Before the merchant can even scream, the Knight's massive hand closes around his throat.
The Knight lifts him off his feet like he weighs nothing, slamming him against the wall hard enough to crack the concrete.
"Holy shit," I breathe, watching as the merchant's face turns purple. His feet kick uselessly at the air as he claws at the hand crushing his windpipe.
The Knight's growl deepens, becoming something primal and terrifying. His other hand—the metal one—comes up, razor-sharp claws poised to tear the merchant's face off.
"Wait!" I grab his arm, and those burning blue eyes snap to me. "No killing, remember?"
The Knight pauses as if considering. Then he loosens his grip just enough for the merchant to gasp in a desperate breath.
"P-please," the merchant wheezes. "I'm sorry! I didn't know she was yours!"
The Knight's growl rises to a roar that shakes dust from the ceiling. I wince at the sound. And at the implication that I belong to anyone.
"Give me your money," I tell the merchant, keeping my hand on the Knight's arm. "All of it. And maybe my friend here won't redecorate these walls with your insides."
The merchant fumbles for his coin purse with trembling hands, nearly dropping it in his panic. I snatch it from him, weighing it in my palm. Heavy. Good.
"Now your rings," I add, noticing the gold bands glinting on his fingers. "And that fancy watch."
He strips off his jewelry without hesitation, practically throwing the items at me. Smart man. The Knight's growl hasn't lessened, and those metal claws are still hovering inches from the merchant's face.
"No killing," I remind him again in a singsong voice once I've pocketed everything valuable. "You can stuff him in that dumpster over there."
The Knight's growl deepens. Pretty sure he'd rather go for the bloodier solution. But when I shake my head firmly, he settles for slamming the man against the wall again. The merchant's head cracks against the concrete and his eyes roll back. His body goes limp in the Knight's grasp.
"The dumpster," I remind him, pointing to the rusted metal container.
The Knight trudges over and unceremoniously drops the merchant into the dumpster with the rest of the trash. The unconscious body disappears into the darkness with a satisfying thud.
I count our newly acquired funds, pleased with the weight of the coin purse. "Come on," I tell him. "Let's find somewhere to clean up."