My throat burns, my eyes water, and I'm certain I'm about to disgrace myself by vomiting all over Geo's expensive rug, which was probably the sacred object some duke from a faraway land was conceived on. But then, something strange happens. The burning sensation spreads throughout my body, and in its wake, the fog in my head begins to clear. The jackhammer behind my eyes recedes to a dull thud, and my stomach settles.
I blink in surprise. "What the hell did you put in that?"
Geo gives me a lazy grin. "Family recipe. Some things are better left a mystery."
"It's working," I admit grudgingly, setting the empty glass on a nearby table. "I actually feel... almost human again."
"Told you," Raven says with a satisfied nod. "If there's one thing Geo is good at, it's remedying the consequences of debauchery."
Geo grunts in irritation, turning back to the door. "Breakfast is ready in the kitchen, if anyone's interested. Had something brought up from downstairs. And by interested, I mean get your asses out there before it gets cold."
He exits without waiting for a response. It's strange how quickly these dynamics have formed. This odd temporary alliance between alphas who should, by all rights, be at each other's throats over my presence.
"Shall we?" Raven asks, offering me his arm with a flourish.
I hesitate a beat before I take his arm, not missing the way he melts as if I just crowned him King of Reinmich. Knight immediately falls into step beside me. Nikolai follows, bitching under his breath in clear jealousy that Raven got to me first.
The kitchen table is laid with a spread that makes my newly settled stomach growl. Freshly baked bread, various meats and cheeses, fruit that doesn't look particularly mutated and must have cost a fortune in this wasteland, and a pitcher of steaming hot coffee.
"That was fast for all this," I remark as Nikolai lunges to at least be first to pull out a seat for me at the table.
Geo grunts again. "There's a chef at the brothel. Just had them send up the extra."
"Don't let him fool you," Raven says, dropping into the chair next to me a second before Nikolai can and ignoring the white-haired alpha's death glare as he starts filling my plate. "He's showing off."
Geo rolls his eye but doesn't deny it, busying himself with filling his own plate. I sit cautiously, still half-expecting my body torevolt, but the hangover bomb seems to have worked its magic. Knight hesitates, then takes the seat on my other side, which Nikolai isn't quite bold enough to try to claim. Knight's massive frame makes the chair look like it belongs in a dollhouse, but it still supports him.
It's not the chair that was there yesterday, I notice. The wooden one that matched the rest of the set has been replaced with a sturdy metal chair, and I can only imagine who put it there. But it's clearly meant for Knight, which is more thoughtfulness than I'd expected from any of these men.
It has to be a gift from Raven. The throne, too. I'm not sure about Geo, but clearlysomeoneis trying to impress me.
Gods help me, but I actually think it's working.
Nikolai sits across from me and next to Geo. Both of their lips curl in distaste at each other, not unlike dogs.
"So," I say, after taking a fortifying sip of coffee. "Why do you have a chef at a brothel? Is it some kind of adult-themed bed and breakfast?"
"For the whores," Geo answers without missing a beat, directing a forkful of fruit to his mouth.
I choke on my coffee and Raven pats my back, his eyes glittering with amusement. "It's lacks the same ambiance as the Alpha's Alpha, but it's certainly the finest place to whore this side of the shithole," Raven says dryly.
"Ambiance my ass," Geo growls. "Covering everything in curtains and pumping scent blockers through the vents ain't the same thing as class."
"Oh, what would you know? You wearwhite sockswith black shoes."
Geo blinks like he's trying to process what the problem is. "The fuck else would I wear with them?"
I take another sip of coffee to swallow my laugh as they continue to bicker about men's fashion, or lack thereof.
Nikolai shifts uncomfortably, as if any reminder that these two share a past—however innocuous—pains him. He's so fucking transparent, it's embarrassing. But these are alphas. I'm pretty sure on the scale of emotional intelligence, Raven is a damn savant compared to the rest.
"So," I say, deciding to give the poor bastard a break for reasons that are beyond me, "I'm guessing I made quite the spectacle of myself last night."
A beat of awkward silence follows, broken by Geo's snort. "That's one way to put it. Fortunately, Raven thinks fast and cuts faster. We're gonna be cleaning blood out of the club carpet for weeks."
I glance at Raven, who's suddenly very interested in buttering his bread. "Youkilledsomeone last night?"
"Just a little," he murmurs, not looking up. "He was being rude."
