Page 22 of Psycho Alphas: Part Two

THISTLE

I woke up with my shitty artificial heat over, yet drowning in a sea of raging Alpha hormones.

I reached out, fumbling for Rogue. Last I remembered, I was clinging to his back as he cooked. Instead, my hand was weighed down by a heavy blanket.

Where was he?

I pouted, but then my eyes snapped open at an almighty crash and a growl.

Huh?

I scrambled up, finding myself all tucked in on a couch with Rogue’s sweet bourbon scent mark on me.

As it should be.

I rubbed my eyes, taking in the scene.

My two beautiful Alphas werebrawling.

A full-scale violent fight.

As I watched, Knox was thrown back into the kitchenette.

I shuffled to the edge of the couch, keeping low so they wouldn’t notice I was watching. I didn’t want them to stop on my account—this was the coolest thingever.

Knox was so gorgeous, lips drawn in a snarl as he launched himself back at Rogue, nothing but madness in his caramel eyes. I could see the flash of blood across his neck from the few bites I’d left, and joy swelled in my chest.

I paused.

Should I do something?

I didn’tthinkso.

Better to let ’em get it out of their system, right… Bunny?

I swallowed, eyes darting back to the bedroom, fingers biting down on a blanket instead of the plushie I was so used to having near.

I shoved back the wave of nausea.

Right. Yup. They needed to fight it out.I could soothe them after. Besides, if it was wrong, it wouldn’t be so sexy to watch.

Rogue snarled as Knox used his full weight to throw him back into the kitchen counter. His hand caught the edge of a bowl, and next thing I knew, the air exploded with spaghetti confetti.

With a wide-eyed, wild snarl, the fight met the main living area as Rogue, in a complete fury, bowled Knox over a barstool and out of the kitchen space entirely.

Knox didn’t get a chance to get up before Rogue had him by the hair. He felt insane in the bond, and I had to clamp a hand over my mouth so I didn’t giggle out loud.

Pasta, it seemed, was the last straw.

Rogue dragged Knox to his feet, then slammed him face-first into the shelves that held weights, muzzles, knuckledusters, and other bits and bobs.

I winced.

Ooo… They really weren’t playin’.

“That washers!” Rogue hissed.

He might look a lot more frightening if there weren’t pieces of pasta draping his hair and shoulders.