"He said your ass was juicy and tried to grab a handful of it," Geo corrects bluntly. "Raven put a knife through his throat before the bastard could blink."
"My assisjuicy," I say pointedly.
"Quite so," Raven agrees breezily, "but if he was a gentleman, he would have admired with his hands to himself, and perhaps he would have lived to tell about it."
"Becauseyou'resuch a gentleman," Nikolai scoffs.
"You're just pissy you didn't get to kill him," Raven accuses.
"I killed the stripping coordinator," Nikolai barks defensively.
"The what now?" I choke.
"You had no fucking right to do that," Geo growls as if he didn't hear me, jabbing a finger in Nikolai's face. "He's onmypayroll, it wasmyright to bash his skull in." He sits back, glowering. "Fucking weasel here heard me talking to my guards on the phone about it and beat me to the chase."
"You snooze, you lose, old man," Nikolai shoots back.
Geo starts to get up from his chair. "You wanna take this outside?"
"He's notthatmuch older," Raven says. "He just looks rough."
"Do me a favor, kid, and stop trying to defend my honor. Half these gray hairs are your fucking fault."
"Stop it!" I groan, burying my face in my hands. "If you don't stop bitching at each other, my hangover is going to come back." When they keep bickering, I add, "This is a big part of why Knight fucked me and none of you have yet, by the way. He doesn't run his mouth."
Raven puts his cheek on his hand and stares at me. "Yet,you say?" he asks sweetly, batting his light eyelashes at me.
I gulp. Didn't even realize I'd said that.
But it definitely shut them up. Especially Geo, who's giving me a strange and unreadable look like he isn't sure I meant to include him or not. I'm not even sure myself. But he casts ahesitant glance my way before looking back at Nikolai, and the two alphas stare each other down for a few seconds before Geo finally slumps back in his seat, violently stabs his eggs with a fork, and grumbles something I can't make out.
I'm not sure how to process this information. The casual violence should disturb me more than it does, but after everything I've been through—especially after witnessing Knight tear raiders apart with his bare hands—my threshold for shock hassignificantlyincreased.
I just never imagined murder could be… affectionate.
These alphas are going to be the death of me or my sanity. I’m not sure which.
"Thank you," I say finally, surprised by the sincerity in my own voice. "For looking out for me."
Raven glances up, a flash of genuine emotion crossing his face before his usual charming smile slides back into place. "You don't need to thank us. But perhaps next time you feel like a night out, take a bodyguard?"
I feel my face heating up. "I don't usually do things like that."
"Coulda fooled me. You looked like an angel up there," Geo says, freezing as if he's surprised he blurted that out and immediately follows it up by chugging his entire mug of coffee.
I stare at him in confusion. An angel? He clearly isn't obsessed with my scent like the other alphas, but now that I'm thinking about it, the way he looks at me isn't all that different from the way he looks at Raven. The same guarded fondness.
Hmm.
"You were upset," Nikolai says unexpectedly, his voice lacking its usual edge.
I look at him in just as much surprise as I just looked at Geo, wondering if this is his version of comforting me. If so, it's strangely effective. There's no judgment in his tone, just a matter-of-fact acknowledgment.
"I was," I admit quietly. "Am. I don't know. Finding out about Azarel, it's..." I trail off, not sure how to articulate the complex tangle of emotions his deception has left me with. Betrayal, yes, but also confusion, hurt, and a lingering sense of loss for what I thought we had.
More confusing is why I'm even bothering to share those feelings with anyone, let alone alphas. My mother was my only confidant. I learned early that the very servants who helped raise me were all too happy to report the slightest indiscretion or moment of vulnerability to my father—and later, to my horrible excuse for a husband—in the hopes of gaining favor.
It always struck me as ironic that the more religious among us claim the gods granted omegas with more feelings and sensitivities than any of the other designations, only to give us the least freedom to express them.
