The sound makes Geo's single eye snap open with the alertness of someone accustomed to waking to danger. He focuses on me immediately, then grunts, moving his hand away from the weapon he'd been clutching in his sleep.
"Sleeping Beauty awakens," he mutters, voice gravelly with sleep. His gaze flicks to Nikolai, who remains the only one still unconscious at the foot of my bed. "Surprised you're vertical after last night."
"More like a right angle," I say, leaning forward. "What happened last night? I don't remember much after..."
After learning the truth about Azarel. After feeling like my world had been pulled out from under me once again.
Geo's mouth quirks up at one corner. "I'm sure you don't. You downed enough booze." He shifts, stretching his massive frame. "But here's the recap. You were up on my pole, shaking your?—"
He cuts off with a wheezing sound as Raven's elbow connects with his ribs.
"I'm glad you're awake," Raven says smoothly, ignoring Geo's glare. "Are you hungry? I could have something brought up."
The mere mention of food sends my stomach into a violent revolt. "Please don't mention food," I nearly gag, pressing a hand to my mouth.
Raven grimaces sympathetically and comes over, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from my face. His fingers linger, feeling my forehead with surprising gentleness.
I'm struck by the realization that I should be bristling at the uninvited touch from an alpha.Anyalpha, other than Azarel. It's a reaction I've cultivated over years of being treated likeproperty, a possession to be handled and passed around. Yet, with Raven, the touch doesn't raise my hackles. It feels... oddly acceptable. Pleasant, even.
And I get the distinct impression that despite being blackout drunk last night, none of these alphas actually touched me inappropriately. Knight wouldn't have allowed it, of course—the one thing I fully understand about him is that his protective instincts are unwavering when it comes to me—but I get the feeling they didn't even try.
That's... new for alphas. And terrifying in its own way. Because it means I'm beginning to trust them, and trust has only ever led to pain.
"I'll whip up one of my hangover bombs," Geo declares, pushing himself to his feet with surprising agility for an alpha as bulky as he is.
"What's a hangover bomb?" I ask warily. "It sounds disgusting."
Raven's grin doesn't inspire confidence. "Oh, it is. But it works like a charm."
"I need to shower," I mutter, feeling grimy and disheveled. The thought of standing under hot water is about the only appealing thing in my universe right now.
"Bathroom's all yours," Raven says, gesturing toward the en suite. "Take your time."
I nod, lightly sweeping Knight's broad shoulder with my fingertips on my way past him into the bathroom. I take care not to move too quickly. My legs feel wobbly, like a newborn colt's, but I manage to make it to the bathroom without assistance.
I catch sight of myself in the mirror and wince. My hair is a tangled mess, my face pale and drawn. I look like death warmed over.
Stripping off my rumpled clothes, I step into the shower and turn the water on as hot as I can stand it. The steam rises around me, and I close my eyes, letting the water pound against my skin as I lather up with the soaps I'm "borrowing" from Raven.
As I stand there, the memories throb like infected wounds. Azarel's betrayal. The desperate need to forget, even for a moment, that the man I'd given my heart to had lied about something so fundamental. I vaguely recall stumbling into the black market proper, the lights and sounds overwhelming my senses.
And dancing. Oh gods, did I really dance in that seedy club on a sticky pole in front of a bunch of strange hooting alphas?
Why was it so fuckingsticky?
I wash quickly, trying not to dwell on the jumbled memories. When I finally step out, wrapped in a plush towel, I feel marginally more human, though the throbbing headache persists.
When I return to the bedroom, I find Raven making the bed like he's going to be graded on it. Nikolai is still curled at the foot of it, thoroughly undisturbed by the activity around him. As I watch, Raven unceremoniously pushes Nikolai off the edge so he can smooth down the duvet. Nikolai lands on the pile of blankets on the floor with a thump and a startled curse in Vrissian.
"What the fuck?" Nikolai snarls, blinking up at Raven with confusion that quickly morphs into irritation.
"Morning, sunshine," Raven chirps with false brightness. "Sleeping Beauty is awake, and the bed needed making."
Nikolai's gaze swings to me, his eyes widening like I just stepped into the room wearing a ballgown adorned with pre-war crystals instead of a towel. His expression shifts minutely, his eyes darkening before he masks it with his usual sardonic demeanor.
"You're wet," he says bluntly.
"Yes, this must be a momentous occasion for you," I say, my voice dripping with false sweetness. "And surely the closest you're ever going to get to having a wet omega in your bed."
