Page 120 of Bonds of Hate

“I’m going to check on the restoration effort in the grand hall.” Snatching up his comm unit, Logan stalks toward the door. “Cillian, join me when you’re done with those blueprints.”

Silence descends for an awkward moment after the front door slams shut. I’m not expecting much from Cillian, but he surprises me when his chin jerks toward a covered dish at the end of the table.

“Ares ordered dinner for you,” he says, sounding bored. “He wanted me to make sure you know to eat the entire thing.”

I don’t thank him because I’ve run entirely short on goodwill for Pack Logan these days. But I do sit down at the table and lift the lid to reveal a lean cut of steak with broccoli and creamy pasta on the side.

Cillian returns to studying the blueprints. “That packet next to your plate is more suppressants for the week.”

I examine the pills. Unlike the capsules he gave me before, these are pressed tablets in a sickly shade of yellow. “I’ve never seen this formulation before.”

He grunts. “Supplier change. Beggars can’t be choosers, and the dosage is still the same.”

Cillian might not be wrong, but he is still an asshole.

I take one without bothering to chase it with water. There is no part of me willing to risk a heat cycle, not now.

I pick at the food without enthusiasm, more interested in studying the man across from me than in eating. The stark overhead lights cast harsh shadows across Cillian’s face, highlighting the sharp angles of his cheekbones and jaw.

He looks the best that he has in days, which is surprising given the current chaos. The sunken shadows are gone from under his eyes and though he is still pale, his cheeks have a healthy flush.

It shouldn’t surprise me that Cillian does best when the world is falling down around him.

His shock of white-blonde hair falls forward as he bends over the blueprints, obscuring those ice-chip eyes. Even with his currently stiff demeanor, there’s something magnetic about him that draws the eye. It’s almost unfair how attractive he is, especially for a beta.

The curve of his mouth, even twisted in concentration, is perfectly sculpted. His fingers, long and elegant, trace lines across the paper with precise movements. If he wasn’t such an absolute jerk, I might actually find myself attracted to him.

A quiet laugh escapes me at the thought.

“How much longer do you plan to stare at me?” he asks without looking up, tone only mildly irritated. “It’s becoming distracting.”

I shrug, taking another small bite of pasta. I speak withmy mouth full, if only to annoy him. “Just trying to figure out how someone so pretty on the outside can be so ugly on the inside.”

His jaw clenches once before relaxing. “You’re no ray of sunshine yourself.”

I could have been if any of them had given me a fucking chance, I think. But I remind myself that it really doesn’t matter anymore.

“You’ve wanted me gone from the beginning,” I comment.

Cillian doesn’t treat it like a question because we both know it isn’t one. He also doesn’t deny it. “You have a point?”

I wonder how much he knows, if Logan’s secret isn’t actually much of one at all. Cillian is Logan’s closest advisor and has been at his side since they were children. How could he not know that his prince had already claimed an Omega?

It would explain his chilly reception of me. His primary concern has to be protecting Logan. He has been sworn to his side since before Logan was even Alpha enough to form a pack.

Cillian won’t ever by my ally, especially against the pack, but maybe he wants the same thing I do.

I casually tap the packet of suppressants. “How much of this do you think you could get at a time? A few weeks’ worth? A month? Maybe two?”

He finally looks at me, dead expression giving nothing away. “Why?”

“Because I can’t leave here unless I have enough on me to last for a while.”

We stare at each other for a long moment. I wait for him to insist that he would never contravene Logan by aiding and abetting my escape, but he doesn’t.

Because we both know the sooner I leave here, the better off Logan will be. A mating contract is just words on a piece of paper, most useful for betas who need legal protections. The king is expecting an eventual bonding between Logan and me that can’t ever happen. If I stay here, we’re just setting ourselves up for a spectacular catastrophe.

Cillian crosses his arms over his chest, gaze flitting over me impassively, but I don’t miss the flash of relief in his gaze. “And what do you plan to do about that shiny new tracker in your arm?”

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