Page 23 of Alphas Like Us
My memory makes years feel like yesterdays and weeks feel like minutesago.
Great for sex. Better for love. Shit for what Maximoff callsdoomsdays.
I can still feel the animal blood pouring down my head. I can feel Nate’s limbs slipping out of my grip and how my adrenaline thrashed mypulse…
I almost shut my eyes. But the image will still be there. And I have to live with this forever, but I wish it didn’t have to fuck with myreflexes.
Normally I wouldn’t hesitate this long.Fuck it.I make an abrupt choice and put trust in Charlie. I stay here to bid onMaximoff.
There’s no goingback.
“Who else is bidding on your cousin?” Oscar asksCharlie.
Charlie is quiet. He had the best vantage point in the boxed seat, and he could tell whose clicker kept lighting green. I stare at backs of chairs and heads. Unable to distinguish the person I’m electronicallycontending.
“Charlie,” Jane snaps angrily and speaks in rapid French. He replies back just as swiftly in the samelanguage.
The auctioneer spouts off, “45k, got 46k…” My clicker lights green, locking in the bid, but the auctioneer’s voice suddenly fades, and the orchestra hall goes strangelyquiet.
The auctioneer frowns and lifts a tablet he’s been using. “It looks like a bidder has put in a highoffer.”
“Oh no,” Janebreathes.
I run my tongue over my lip piercing, watching concern pass through Charlie’sfeatures.
He brushes a hand through his disheveled hair. “It’s fine.” But I can’t tell if he really meansit.
I grit down.Fuck this.I look at Oscar. “I’m getting him.” I’m getting my boyfriend off the motherfuckingstage.
Oscarnods.
“Wait a second,” Charlie says with more confidence, holding out ahand.
The auctioneer sets down the tablet. “We’ll start the auction at the highest offer.” He clears his throat. “Two million, would I get a two-point-one mil?”No chance.I don’t even know if Charlie has access to that amount of money, and he could lie and say hedoes.
I pocket the device, and Charlie stares ahead, not stoppingme.
“Going once,” the auctioneercalls.
My stomach somersaults. “Charlie, who’s bidding on him?” Iask.
“Goingtwice.”
Charlie’s eyes are locked on the stage like he’s in a daze. “No onegood.”
“Sold!”
Violins screech as the quartet plays again, calling for an intermission, and hundreds rise, congesting the stage andaisles.
Gethim.
I head down the right aisle, and I’m surprised when Charlie Cobalt follows me, step forstep.
4
MAXIMOFF HALE
When I was seventeen,I told my dad, “I don’t think I’ll ever fall inlove.”
