Page 47 of The Rogues

“Is everything okay?” I ask.

She smiles weakly. “Yeah, I just had to pee.”

My brow raises. “I heard Raven on the phone, saying⁠—”

“No, you didn’t,” she says, avoiding eye contact and washing her hands.

“Yes, I did. She just said some nasty things to you, Clee. And I wish I could say I’m surprised, but she’s always been cruel and sadistic, so I’m not. But I’m surprised that someone as confident as you would⁠—”

“Josie.” She snaps her head back at me, the word dripping with indignation. When she sees me flinch, she stops, her face softening. “I’m sorry, but everything is fine. Raven is just… moody sometimes.”

Moody isn’t how I would describe her. A heinous she-demon is more accurate.

“Okay.” I go to step closer to her, but it feels like I’m cornering a wounded animal, so I stop. “But… moody or not, you didn’t deserve that.”

“You don’t have to worry about it. She won’t say those things again,” she says, turning back to the mirror. Like a switch of indifference, she starts fluffing her hair like it’s the only thing that matters, and I just stand there, dumbfounded by it. When she turns around and starts for the door, she tilts her head. “Wanna head back?”

I force myself to close my mouth and shake my head. “No, I’ll be there soon.”

She shrugs before walking out and leaving me alone to my thoughts that are moving a mile a minute inside my skull. I’ve never heard anyone talk to my best friend like that. She has a much smaller threshold for bullshit than I do, and I’d normally expect anyone who spouts that kind of venom her way to be immediately on the chopping block.

So, why is she defending her? Why is she letting that poison stay in her life?

As I stand there, the confusion coursing through me turns into something else. Something furious and grim and tired. I’m starting to feel like all of the emotions that Cleo is avoiding are somehow finding their way into my body, puncturing my organs and siphoning me dry. I can’t keep holding all of this for her, but I don’t know how to drop it at my feet. It’s all becoming too much, and I don’t know what to do.

And then another revelation crashes into me. Cyrus was right. Cleo would never let go of Raven, not for me or anyone else. She would never listen to my concerns, never let go of the vice to make me comfortable.

So why am I doing that exact thing?

The tears come so fast that I don’t even have time to suck them back in. My hand goes over my mouth on instinct, trying to quiet the sobs that wreck me as everything comes crashing down.

But I don’t have time to fall apart alone, because like a beacon calling out, someone finds me when I need them the most.

“Josie?” I hear outside the door, one of my mates’ accents that I can’t pinpoint echoing through the wood.

“C-come in,” I respond through the tears. I see Malaki’s blue hair first, then I see the worried look on his face when he notices my distress. He steps forward, close enough to help but not enough to crowd me, and it’s that respectful approach that has me moving into his arms with lightning speed.

His strong arms move around me as my face moves into his shoulder, the power of my sobs hushed by the material of his shirt. I let go, knowing he will hold me through it, knowing it deep in my bones, despite the fact that I haven’t given myself the privilege of knowing them. And that’s all my fault. I have talked myself in circles for someone that won’t even advocate for themselves, and now I have lost all sorts of precious time getting to know them. My scent matches.

We stand there for ages. I’m surprised no one has come to find us with each passing minute, but I can’t bring myself to move or to leave this alpha’s arms. It is the only thing holding me to reality and the only thing keeping me from losing it even more. I know we’re moments away from a scandal, but I can’t seem to care. I clutch on tighter, needing his embrace more than I need fucking air to breathe.

His fingers move over my hair, comforting and lulling in the best way. His campfire scent is like a calm presence, steady and enchanting. A soft purr starts in his chest, using it to soothe me until my cries turn into smooth breaths.

A few minutes later, when the dust has settled and everything feels safe once more, I pull back and look at him, his chest still vibrating so beautifully that I wish I could curl up inside him and rest.

“Baby,” he says, his calloused fingers wiping the tears from my eyes.

My eyes trail over him, from his ridiculously attractive blue mullet, to his bridge piercing, to his kind umber eyes. I should have every reason to feel hesitation right now, but I don’t. Everything inside of me that I held back is being pushed right forward, knowing that there is no good reason to stop this from happening in the slightest.

His strong hands are what does me in the way they’re holding me close and using their warmth to comfort me, to support me. I want nothing more than to give him back every ounce of energy and effort he has given me.

So… I do. Fuck it.

I pull him to me, slamming my lips to his in a kiss that goes from zero to a hundred as soon as his mind catches up to what I’m doing. His arm moves around my back to hold me closer, while his other hand laces into my hair to control the kiss. His lips are supple, soft, and so freaking delicious that a moan escapes me at the way they feel against mine. He nips me gently, dominating it while also letting me have some of the reins. It’s a passionate collaboration, one that leaves me pulling up onto my toes to get closer to him.

I never want it to end. His campfire scent blazes around us, cocooning us in a warm fortress that I can feel over every stretch of skin. His nails dig into my dress, the intensity exploding until I literally can’t breathe and have to pull away to catch my breath.

We stare at each other, breathing heavy, still grasping each other’s clothes like it’ll be the last time. When I can finally breathe again without needing to take in extra air, he smiles the prettiest smile. It’s boyish and happy and looks just like how I am feeling inside my own vessel.