"Are you still moping out here?" I ask, breaking the silence.
He doesn't startle. Of course he doesn't. He probably heard me coming a mile away. But he does turn, the ghost of a smirk playing at his lips. "I don't mope," he says, but there's something missing from his voice. The usual edge, the caustic bite that makes every word from his mouth feel like a challenge.
It worries me more than I want to admit.
"Raven said you had something to tell me," I say, crossing my arms over my chest. The thin fabric of my Surhiiran robe does little to ward off the night chill, but I refuse to show weakness by shivering.
Nikolai's face darkens, and there's a flash of the familiar edge. "That fucking twink and his big mouth," he mutters.
"Well?" I prompt, tapping my foot with exaggerated impatience. "I'm listening."
Nikolai hesitates, and if I didn't know better, I'd think the great warlord of the Outer Reaches was... nervous. He rakes a hand through his white hair, the movement strangely boyish on a man who radiates nothing but menace.
"Listen," he says finally, his voice rough. "I've been meaning to tell you something. Should've told you back in the black market, or hell, back at the compound, but..." He trails off, his jaw working like he's trying to chew through his own teeth.
"But?" I prompt again, my curiosity deepening despite my better judgment.
He takes a deep breath, his shoulders squaring like he's bracing for a blow. "You're my mate," he says, the words coming out in a harsh rush. "Have been since the moment I caught your scent.You can hate me if you want—and I wouldn't blame you—but... it's the truth."
I stare at him, letting the silence stretch on.
"What?" he demands finally, shifting restlessly under my scrutiny.
A laugh bubbles up from deep in my chest, spilling out before I can stop it. "I know."
Nikolai blinks, his mouth falling open in shock before he composes himself with a bewildered curl of his lip. "What the fuck do you mean,you know?"
I walk over to the railing to lean on it, maintaining a slight distance between us as I gaze out at the shining domed roofs of the village. "You're one of five alphas in the world who doesn't smell like death, shit, or noxious chemicals to me," I mutter. "I'm not a fucking idiot. I figured there was some kind of connection."
Nikolai stares at me like I've suddenly sprouted a second head. "I thought… you said I smelled like 'piss in an ass'!"
I cackle, the sound cutting through the quiet night. "Did I say that? I'm funny."
His scowl deepens, and suddenly he's in front of me, one hand gripping my arm to turn me to face him. Not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough that I can't easily slip away.
"So you knew," he growls, his voice dropping to a dangerous rumble. "You knew we were mates this whole fucking time, and you didn't say anything?"
I shrink back from his intensity, wrenching my arm from his grasp. "What was I supposed to say? It doesn't matter."
"The hell it doesn't," he argues, his good eye flashing with something that might be hurt beneath the anger. "Of course it matters. It changes everything."
"It changesnothing," I hiss, and the force in my voice stuns him into momentary silence.
I take a deep breath, trying to collect myself. The wine buzzes in my veins, loosening my tongue more than I'd like it to. But fuck it. We're in a foreign country surrounded by potential enemies. If there was ever a time for raw honesty, maybe it's now, when neither of us might live to regret it.
"I've been a slave to alphas' biological impulses and claims my entire fucking life," I say, wrapping my arms around myself. "Ever since my omega mark appeared, it's been like a bar code designating my worth and utility to you fuckers who think you have a right to own this world and everyone in it, even when you're the ones who burned it down."
I slip into Vrissian halfway through, the bitter words flowing more naturally in my mother tongue. Vrissian has always been a better language to curse in.
"Are you talking about men or alphas?" Nikolai asks dryly in our shared language.
"Both!" I hiss. "A distinction without a difference."
I turn away and put my hands on the railing, my fingers gripping the stone railing so hard my knuckles ache. "A scent match is just one more biological variable meant to give alphas control and keep omegas in line with fairy tales of love and belonging," I continue, unable to stop now that I've started. "A fairy tale that convinces a sixteen-year-old girl bought and sold to a psychopathic old man halfway across the world that their bondis one of destiny, not perversion. And in the end, she still died from a broken heart."
Nikolai stares at me in silence, his expression shifting to something almost... gentle. That expression on his normally hard, cold features is unsettling. "Your mother?" he asks softly.
I don't answer. Instead, I look out at the village again, at the peaceful streets so far removed from the horror and chaos of the wasteland. From Reinmich. From everything I've ever known.
