Page 112 of Bonds of Hate

Her head wound isn’t deep and won’t require stitches, but I still take my time cleaning and bandaging it. Bruises darken her arms where someone grabbed her. Anger drawls a growl from my lips.

“Ares?” Maya’s eyes flutter open, unfocused and glazed with pain.

“I’m here.” I grab a blanket folded at the foot of the bed and tuck it around her. “You’re safe now.”

“Where is he? You have to…” She tries to rise on her elbows but sways dangerously. It takes little effort to press her back down with gentle pressure on her shoulders.

When she ineffectually pushes at my hand, still fighting to get up, I don’t hesitate to give her a command. “Stay.”

She collapses back on the bed with a pained sigh.

“You took a nasty hit to the head. Do you feel nauseous? Is your vision doubled?”

Maya shakes her head before freezing with a sound of pain. “You have to find him?”

“Who?”

“The doctor…he tried to take me.”

“The fuck? Who tried to take you?”

Maya stares up at me with eyes gone wide, her expression made up of something more than just pain. She only now seems to realize what she’s been saying. “I don’t know.”

Part of me wants to press her. She’s injured, possibly concussed, too weak to resist if I insist she tell me whatever secrets she has been hiding.

But I decide to let it go. For now.

“Shh.” I stroke her cheek, wiping away a smudge of soot. “No one’s taking you anywhere. I promise.”

Maya falls asleep again while I clean the dirt off her face. My attention lingers on the soft curve of her cheek. The slight bruise blooming there makes me want to murder someone. I set down the damp rag, fighting off a sudden urge to finish the job by licking her clean.

I sit back on my heels at the end of the bed, mulling over what to do next. Something is definitely missing.

Maybe we need food. Maya might be hungry when she wakes up. But the servants are likely still in lockdown and I can’t leave her long enough to fetch anything myself.

She huddles deeper into the bedding with a slight shiver, prompting me to go to the closet and pull out a pile of spare pillows and blankets.

I pile it all up around her haphazardly. The pillows keep falling over when I try to tuck them at her sides, so I have to roll up the smallest quilt and shove it underneath as a prop.

I just want to see her cradled, protected. I’d feel this way about any Omega in my den. In my bed.

But when I form another depression in the pile ofblankets and slip into the bed beside her, it feels a bit like coming home.

“This might be the worst excuse for a nest I’ve ever seen.”

I snap awake with a painful burst of adrenaline. A quick glance reassures me that Maya is still sleeping beside me, allowing my heart rate to return to normal.

Raising one hand to shield my eyes from the bright light, I have to squint to make out the figure standing at the end of the bed.

Cillian smirks down at me, looking entirely unruffled even though he still wears the same clothes he had on last night.

“The fuck would you know about it?” I grouse, collapsing back against the pillows.

“I know the Omega is supposed to be the one to make it.”

“Yeah, well, it’s my bed and I’ll do what I want in it.”

His gaze passes over Maya’s prone form and I resist the urge to clutch to her my chest like a stuffed animal. “Does she need a doctor?”

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