Page 102 of Bonds of Hate

A warmth settles in my chest as I let myself imagine a future I never seriously contemplated. Sitting by his side as queen would be so much more than flaunting myself in pretty dresses and ordering servants around like a lot of the Omegas at the Enclave seemed to assume.

There is actual power here, enough to change the world for the better.

The day blurs into a parade of faces and voices — trade ministers, military advisors, noble petitioners. I perch beside Logan through it all, back straight and hands folded, the perfect picture of an Omega consort. He keeps finding excuses to touch me, adjusting my hair or brushing imaginary lint from my shoulder, his fingers trailing in patterns along my arm.

“I had no idea how useful an Omega could be outside the bedroom,” Logan murmurs between meetings, expression slightly embarrassed. “Did you notice how Minister Chen’s aggression softened when you tilted your head just so? Usually, he is a total hard ass about making concessions, but he allowed a two percent tax increase on peak energy use without batting an eye.”

I had noticed, actually, but still give him a wide-eyed look of surprise. “I assume that works out better for you.”

He gives my shoulder a warm squeeze. “You have absolutely no idea. We’ve been running at a deficit with the energy budget for years. You’re shaping up to be my secret weapon.”

Logan’s praise washes over me, almost as intoxicating as the lingering memory of pleasure still pulsing through my body.

I might actually be losing my mind.

Despite the temporary boost of his praise, my nerves have entirely frayed. The effort it takes to keep an appropriately close-lipped smile on my face and maintain social graces while pretending to care about this political theater is taking its toll. If I so much as slouch for a moment, the fine threading at the back of my dress will snap. It doesn’t help that I had to wake up hours before dawn, so one of the palace seamstresses had enough time to create a last-minute work of art on my back.

By the time we make it back to the apartment for the evening, I’m exhausted, confused and somehow still post-orgasmic in a way that makes it difficult to walk in a straight line.

I follow Logan into the dark interior of the living room, my thundering heart seeming somehow loud enough to be audible in the quiet space.

My voice echoes off the high ceilings. “Where is everyone?”

“Out. Hiding. Pretending to do work so I don’t give them something actually important to do.” Logan shuts the door with a loud slam. He chuckles when the sound makes me jump. “We have some time before dinner if you’d like to relax.”

Even though I’ve been with Logan all day without the buffer of his pack between us, being alone with him is something else entirely. The space feels different without the others around. More intimate.

More dangerous.

I’m acutely aware that I haven’t been truly alone with him since that night in the alcove during the gala.

Early evening sun streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long shadows across the marble floors and tinting the room with eerie half-light.

The click of his shoes on the marble floor echoes in the silence as Logan strides toward the living room.

“You must be uncomfortable in that dress,” he says, his golden eyes raking over me. “All of that exquisite embroidery might have to be cut off of you. Let me help.”

“I thought I’d keep this on until after dinner, so I don’t have to change again.”

“Dinner is hours away.” He takes a step toward me, smirking slightly when I take a matching step back. “We should get you into something more comfortable.”

His dark smile makes my breath catch. There’s something predatory in the way he looks at me now, like a cat that’s cornered its prey. The memory of his fingers sliding under my skirt during the council meeting sends a fresh wave of heat through my body.

“I...” My voice comes out embarrassingly breathy, so I clear my throat and try again. “I don’t have anything to wear here. All my clothes are in the harem.”

Darkness flickers in his gaze. “Wear something of mine. You didn’t have a problem prancing around in one of Ares’s shirts.”

I swallow hard against the sudden lump in my throat, casting around for a response that won’t get this dress ripped off of me in the next five minutes. “The lace is so pretty and took so long to create. I’d like to wait as long as possible before ruining it.”

Logan’s expression softens. He uses a soft hand on myarm to guide me to turn so my back is facing him. I sense the heat of his gaze like licks of flame across my skin as he stares at the mark of his house on my back.

“I’m going to jump into the shower,” he says abruptly. When I risk a glance back at him, he gives me a strained smile and jerks his chin towards the living room. “Relax. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Logan’s heated gaze follows me, breaking only when he finally leaves the room. I sink into the plush leather couch, my legs trembling beneath me. The embroidered House Corellian crest on my back seems to burn into my skin — a constant reminder that I’ve marked myself as property. My fingers trace idle patterns on the leather as I try to sort through the chaos in my head.

The sound of running water echoes from down the hall, followed by a deep, masculine grunt that makes my stomach clench. Heat floods my cheeks as I realize what Logan must be doing in there. Another groan reaches my ears and I squeeze my thighs together, fighting the urge to squirm.

I need to focus. To remember why I came here. The palace offers protection, resources, a chance to have some version of the life I’ve prepared for my whole life. I didn’t come here for...whatever this growing attraction is.

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