Page 13 of Bonds of Hate

But if I wanted one of those, then I’d have one.

“Please, Alpha,” she sobs. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

Cillian’s gaze flicks to the tears tracking down her cheeks, face expressionless. I don’t cease the punishing rhythm of my hips,even though the pleasure has diminished. Fear and pain might serve a purpose, but they do little in and of themselves. She is barely clenching on me anymore and the frantic twitching of her hips is more annoying than it is erotic.

Too bad it isn’t her submission I’m waiting for.

I could command him, but I resist the urge. Somehow,this has become a battle of wills and it runs far deeper than a royal commanding his lesser. Cillian will come to heel because he simply isn’t capable of doing anything else.

He just needs a reminder.

“Tell me I have the only knot you could ever want.” Each word is spoken on an exhaled growl. I must sound like I’m about to tear out that pretty throat, but I can’t stop myself. “Beg me to give it to you.”

Repeating the words, she bares her neck in whimpering submission. I let my growl morph into a low purr in response. As a reward, I release my hold on her arms so she can frantically pluck at her clit. Let the poor thing wring whatever small bit of pleasure from this that she can.

Cillian’s furious gaze finally rises to meet mine. He no longer hides the rage burning in eyes that turn the cloudy gray of a winter storm. He looks at me like he would rip the beta off of me and strangle us both if he could.

A spark of electricity travels up my spine as I finally come. Thank fuck. A few more minutes of this and I might have lost some skin off my dick. My knot presses right up to the beta’s entrance. I don’t force it past that straining skin, even though I know she wouldn’t fight me if I tried. No beta can take a knot without extensive preparation and it would be more cruel than I care to be at the moment to force it.

I haven’t done any real damage to a woman in years, but it doesn’t cost me anything to be careful. And that one girl from a few months ago should have warned me she had a bad hip before we got started. It probably still would have dislocated even if I’d kept to slow thrusts in the missionary position.

The beta makes noises of completion that I’m sure even she knows aren’t believable. But I let her slink away as I tuck myself in the pants I hadn’t bothered to remove. Robbing her of dignity is a side effect of the situation. I don’t care enough to make some sort of point about it.

Pausing at the door, she turns to Cillian as if she might say something to him. My growl chases her away, the sound of my cum squeaking between her thighs, and that damn pendant thumping on her chest echoes down the hallway as she scrambles off.

“That was a new low, even for you,” Cillian snaps.

The smile I give him is mocking. “It hurts that you so consistently underestimate me.”

Cillian’s glare follows me as I brush past him out the door. The echo of his footsteps falling in with mine brings me a grim sort of satisfaction. My position as prince might be the only true power I have over him at the moment, but it’s miles better than nothing.

“I sincerely hope that beta ends up being the one who got away,” he sneers.

I don’t dignify the words with a response because we both already know what I’ll say.

Too late for that.

“You need an Omega and an heir.”

Thankfully, my head is bowed in supplication when the king makes his pronouncement. I’m not sure how my father would respond if he saw the look on my face.

Fucking Omegas. It always comes back to goddamn fucking Omegas.

“Your grace—” I start.

King Leopold smoothly interrupts. “Prince Ander’s death has placed the crown in a precarious position. Or — more accurately — it has alerted me to the true depths of our precarity.”

I glare at the marble floor of the king’s receiving room. My jaw clenches so hard that the bone might just snap in two. “Prince Ander’s death?”

Leopold makes a sad humming sound. “Have you not heard? I’m told your brother died in some sort of hunting accident. Tragic, to say the least. We’ll have him laid in state in a few weeks, so all and sundry can pay their respects. I expect you and all of your brothers to be in attendance.”

My jaw clenches. “As you wish, sire.”

He makes an expansive gesture for me to rise and then flicks his fingers at a servant lingering unobtrusively to one side.

I rise as gracefully as possible considering that my stereotypically Alpha frame isn’t built for supplicating.

Outwardly affable and nearly universally beloved, no one outside of his innermost circle understands precisely how my father operates. There are so many minefields to dodge in any given conversation with him. The wrong word in this conversation might see a military officer’s insignia slapped on my chest, a ticket on the next transport to the far outlands in my hand, and instructions to help defend our perpetually hostile borders.

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