Chapter 51 – COSIMA #2
"You can read Surhiiran?" Raven asks, surprise evident in his voice.
"A little." I shrug, still scanning the document. "I had access to my father's library. And nothing else to do most days."
Raven clutches his chest dramatically. "Immeasurable beauty and brains? I may faint."
"Save the fawning for your growly boyfriend, Prince Charming," I retort, gesturing toward Geo, who glares half-heartedly at me over his mug. "What does this mean? I'm only getting bits and pieces."
Raven sighs, sliding onto the stool beside me.
Knight growls in warning, and Raven makes a show of keeping his hands on the counter in front of him, where the larger alpha can see them.
"I haven't been able to find Azarel directly," he admits.
"But my scout made contact with the soldier who wrote that report.
One of the survivors at the outpost you were being held at, before the Ghosts transferred you to our feverish friend down the hall. "
Hope flutters in my chest. Dangerous, fragile hope that I've barely allowed myself to feel since I escaped from Nikolai's compound.
"The royal family has forbidden any mention of Azarel's name directly," Raven continues, tapping a section of the report, "but the man who attacked the outpost—theoretically in search of you—matched his description perfectly.
A tall Surhiiran man with long black hair and .
.." he drops his voice, "... fighting skills that, according to my scout, were 'otherworldly. '"
"That sounds like him," I whisper, unable to keep the tremor from my voice. Hope is a dangerous thing, especially out here.
"The report is deliberately vague, but reading between the lines, it's clear the attacker was looking for an omega prisoner. One who'd been moved elsewhere."
I frown, focusing on a particular passage. "Wait… why would the Surhiiran royal family care about hiding Azarel's name?"
When I look up, Raven is staring at me with an expression I can't decipher.
It's almost pitying.
"What?" I demand, suddenly defensive.
"You don't know, do you?" Raven murmurs, tilting his head slightly. There's no judgment in his voice, only confusion. Concern.
Even Geo seems confused, pausing with fork mid-air.
"Don't know what?" I ask.
The knot in my throat tightens. There have always been secrets between Azarel and me.
Hell, my father and I are the only ones who know his real name, as far as I'm aware.
Even then, it's only because I overheard him call Azarel that once, during one of their many hours-long meetings in my father's study.
I never understood why a man like Azarel would work for a man like my father. Azarel possesses the quiet dignity and honor you'd only expect from a world that no longer exists. He’s the polar opposite of a callous merchant who would sell his own flesh and blood for the right price.
And has . My marriage to Monty and all the times I served as entertainment as those parties—at least until Azarel caught wind of it—is proof enough of that.
From the moment I first saw Azarel, I knew he was different, and not just because he was the first alpha whose scent intrigued rather than repulsed me. He was nothing like the men who licked my father's boots while ogling me behind his back.
When I told my father Monty was selling me off to his friends, my father told me to shut my mouth and never speak of it again. When Azarel found out, people died. A lot of people.
I always knew he was mine.
My mate. My alpha. My destiny.
I kept his name clutched to my heart like a secret, a cherished possession. Every stolen moment, every kiss, was a gift. A treasure plundered from the cold, careless hands of a world that had offered me nothing but pain. Until him.
Raven hesitates, something painfully gentle in his blue eyes. It's the look people get when they're about to say something they know will hurt you. When they're about to shatter an illusion you've been living with.
My nails dig into my palms again. Pricks of pain, familiar warmth pooling on the pads of my fingers. This time, the sting does nothing to keep the threads of me from drifting further and further apart.
Knight stiffens, another low growl rumbling from him as he watches my hands, but he doesn't move. Just remains close. Strong. Watchful.
"Cosima," Raven says carefully, reaching for my hand. I should push him away, but I don't. The warmth of his touch grounds me in a way pain, my old friend, cannot. "This Azarel you've been looking for?—"
"My mate," I correct, my voice brittle, on the verge of breaking.
Raven's gaze softens. "Your mate," he corrects with a solemn nod, "is the crown prince of Surhiira."
The world around me seems to freeze, then tilt sideways. The kitchen blurs at the edges as his words sink in. I realize my hand is shaking only when it meets the resistance of Raven's gentle, steady grip. Anchoring me. The one thing keeping all the frayed strings from unraveling.
But I'm not sure I want them to stop.
Prince of Surhiira.
My Azarel.
The alpha I've been in love with for years.
The alpha who held me in my darkness, and showed me warmth I never knew. The alpha who promised he would take me away from all of it one day.
The alpha who never once mentioned he was royalty .
The alpha who fucking lied .
To be continued in Scarred Alphas (Ghost Alpha Unit #5)…