"Geo!" I cry, running after them. "Put her down, she's delicate!"
The words are barely out of my mouth before Cosima has somehow twisted herself to an angle where she's able to elbow him in the neck while kneeing him in the front. Geo makes the pained sound of an alpha who's just had all his breath forcefully expelled from his lungs.
"Your 'delicate' omega just kneed me in the godsdamned spleen," he snarls at me, still carrying her. Just gripping the back of her dress a bit tighter. He'd better not fucking tear it.
"Well, you should have listened when she asked you nicely," I retort.
"She called me a fucking barbarian pirate!"
"Barbarianmafiapirate," Cosima corrects him, still slurring. "And you really wouldn't have liked what Iwantedto call you."
Geo rolls his eye, undeterred in his steady trudge down the corridors and away from the club. If I didn't know better, I'd think he was every bit as eager to get her off that stage as I was.
"Who the fuck served you?" Geo demands. "I want a name."
"Your shitty, boring bartender cut me off after three," Cosima grumbles, seemingly having given up on escaping his bear hold for the moment. Then again, she looks like she's focused on trying to hold her breakfast down now. "But the patrons were far more generous. Especially Mark."
Mark. The strip club coordinator.
Geo and I exchange a look.
Mark dies tonight.
But first, we need to get her home.
"Mark is the one who let you up on that stage?" I ask, trying to keep my voice neutral. I'm pretty sure I fail at that, but she's clearly too drunk to notice.
Cosima giggles, her silver hair spilling like a waterfall over Geo's back. "He said I was a natural," she purrs. "Asked if I wanted a job." She reaches out as I follow them, close enough to run her fingers through my hair, tugging slightly.
It's the first time she's touched me, but I refuse to let my alpha instincts preen the way they want to and go numb instead. I want the first time she touches me to be when she's fully lucid, eyes glazed only with pleasure—and preferably screaming my name.
"You could join me, pretty boy," she continues. "We'd make a hell of a team."
A smirk tugs at my lips, the thought momentarily dampening my rage. But it's still there, simmering in the background, waiting for the appropriate time. "We certainly would. But I'd prefer a private show. When you're sober."
Her hand drops from my hair and her sultry expression melts into a blank mask. "You areseriouslyno fun."
I can't help but chuckle. "That's the first time in my life I've heard that."
Geo snorts, but he's never silent this long unless he's pissed, uncomfortable, or both. The question is, why does this little excursion seem to be affecting him as much as me?
The walk back to Geo's quarters is mercifully short, though Cosima makes it feel endless with her wandering hands I keep having to redirect for decency's sake—a grueling test of morality I didn't know I possessed—and whispered suggestions that make my face burn.
I've heard worse,saidworse, but coming from her, it's different. Dangerous. Tempting in a way I'm not prepared to handle. And I'm not someone who's accustomed toresistingtemptation.
Everything is uncharted territory where this woman is concerned, apparently.
When we finally reach the door, Geo steps ahead to open it. At least Knight looks like he's enjoying his new throne, sitting in it like some gothic king, massive and menacing in the dim light.
He's on his feet the instant he sees Cosima slung over Geo's shoulder, a worried growl building in his chest as he comes toward us fast and hard enough his footsteps shake the floor. She's barely conscious now, draped limply over Geo's burly back like a sleeping feline.
"Slow down," Geo warns him, holding up a palm and taking a step back.
Knight snarls at him.
"She's fine," I reassure him quickly. Before he can decide the other alpha's arms aren't a safe place for our omega. "She just… got into the spirits. She needs to sleep."
Knight's piercing blue eyes study Cosima as her violet ones flicker open and drift over to the throne he was just sitting in. She gives a throaty laugh, the sound shooting straight to my fucking cock.
