I feel a muscle in my jaw twitch. These aren't soldiers. They're not even competent mercenaries. They're children with guns, playing at war in the ruins of civilization. Every second I spend here is another second wasted, another second Cosima could be in danger.
If I stay here much longer listening to this inane bickering, I'm going to start shooting indiscriminately.
Starting with these three idiots.
"Hey, soldier boy," Lex calls after me as I turn to leave, her voice carrying on the heavy air. "When you find Nicky? Pop a cap in the bastard's knee and tell him it's from old Lex."
I don't respond, don't look back. The pathetic band of raiders are already forgotten, unworthy even of the effort it would take to end their miserable existence. If Vlakov's own people are willing to sell him out so easily, it speaks volumes about his leadership.
A weak alpha who commands no loyalty.
No respect.
Just one more reason to despise the man who dared to lay hands on what is mine.
Chapter 3
NIKOLAI
Somethingsoft and warm presses against my chest.
That's the first sensation that penetrates the darkness. My body feels like it's been dragged behind a truck through the Outer Reaches, every muscle screaming, every nerve ending raw.
But that softness...
It doesn't belong in the realm of pain I've been floating in.
My hands move instinctively, fingers grazing over something smooth and warm. Something that yields beneath my touch in a way that feels... familiar.
Athigh?
The fog in my brain struggles to clear. Am I still in that deathlike place where Geo's bullets sent me?
I force my eyes open, blinking against the dim light.
Silver hair. Violet eyes.
A knife.
Cosima sits perched on my chest, thick thighs straddling my torso, her burgundy dress hitched up and the tip of a blade balanced delicately between her index finger and thumb. She's studying it with academic interest, like a curator examining a particularly fascinating artifact.
I blink again.
Yeah, I'm having another one of those fever dreams. But this one sure as hell beats the last one. The Knight opening me up like a tuna can with those giant claws and then popping my insides—and my eyeballs—into his jaws like popcorn chicken. I'm not eager to wake up fromthisparticular hallucination anytime soon.
"Tell me something, Nikolai," Cosima says absently, not looking at me as she rotates the knife, catching the light along its edge. "What is it that makes alphas such unrepentant, lying, cretinous bastards?"
I can't help the dry chuckle that escapes my throat, though it feels like sandpaper scraping against raw flesh. "That's a menacing thing to hear from a dream sitting on your chest with a knife in her hands."
Her lips curl into a smirk, but there's something in her eyes I haven't seen before. An edge, sharp as the blade she's toying with. This isn't the prim and proper omega I first encountered, nor the unhinged omega in heat who'd nested in my tower. This is someone else entirely.
"I thought you would know," she says, voice deceptively light. "Considering you're the mosttypicalalpha at my disposal at the moment."
My hand is still resting on her thigh, I realize. She hasn't killed me for it. Yet. And I'm enjoying the lush weight of her on me too much to risk reminding her by moving it. If only she'd scoot about a foot forward, we could really have some fun.
"I'm flattered," I murmur, voice still rough from disuse. How long was I out? The last thing I remember is trying to follow Raven out of the room, then the floor tilting precariously under my feet. I must have managed to haul my ass back into bed before I dropped again.
The knife moves, its cold tip tilting my chin up until my eyes meet hers directly.
