Page 132 of Bonds of Hate

As if sensing my intentions, he huffs out a chuckle as his nose brushes my clit. His lips close around the swollen bundle of nerves and he sucks hard. I cry out with the forceof sensation. His hands settle on my ass, forcing my hips to grind against his face in a harsh rhythm.

We are similar enough in size that one of his hands can fist in my hair, not quite hard enough to hurt, and he forces my head all the way down on him until my nose presses into his thighs.

It would be impossible to make this positioning work with an Alpha.

I claw at his skin as I come hard enough to see stars, not because I’m fighting to get away, but because the lack of oxygen sends sparks of pleasure that bow my spine. The movement forces his pants further down until the waistband catches just above his knees.

He holds me there for a moment so he can thrust into my mouth. I force my throat to relax just enough for him to pump into me without my gagging. He is already so hard, so desperate for it, and I know his release is going to be one that leaves him drained.

His fingers tighten in my hair, tugging again before his hips snap up and he spills out his release into the back of my throat.

Cillian collapses against the blankets with a tired groan and I roll up to sit on my heels with what I know is a self-satisfied smile. My gaze roves over him, starting with the rise and fall of his chest as he struggles to catch his breath and then trailing further down.

A bit of scarred flesh on the inside of his upper thigh catches my attention, mostly because it’s strange to see anything mar the unblemished perfection of his pale skin. The scar is a perfect imprint of teeth, set in deep and oldenough to be a silvery white barely darker than the rest of his flesh, a crescent of barely restrained violence.

My stomach drops as my suddenly frantic gaze rises to meet his.

Cillian notices where I’m looking and yanks his pants up in a quick movement. But it’s too late, I’ve already seen it.

I open my mouth to ask the obvious question and make the impossible accusation.

But I don’t get the chance.

A dull roar sounds from the floor above our heads, enough to shake the rafters, and suck every last bit of oxygen out of the room.

The rutting bellow of a furious Alpha.

Chapter Thirty-One

CILLIAN

The ceiling trembles with every heavy footstep on the floor above our heads. Logan is searching the apartment, and it won’t be long before he finds us.

Finds me.

Maya looks at me like she just watched me kick a puppy down a flight of stairs. The devastation in her expression is a strange contrast to the stupefied look in her eyes, gone almost completely black from blown pupils. She sits in a little pool of slick that soaks into the blanket around under her thighs, looking both dazed and confused.

She raises a shaking hand to point at the now covered scar on my inner thigh. “Is that what I think it is?”

I would love to deny it. If this unexpected heat cycle had left me with more than two brain cells to rub together, then I might have been able to come up with a believable explanation.

But the truth will out, just like I always knew it would.

“I know a claiming mark when I see one,” she insists. “Where is your Alpha?”

I turn away, unable to meet her gaze. My fingers resist the urge to touch my mark of shame, the soft fabric of my soft pants still somehow too rough where it rubs against the mark.

The bond it represents has been broken for a long time, seemingly fractured beyond repair. Just enough to keep us loyal to each other, no matter how much it also makes us both miserable. Most of the time, it’s easy to pretend that the mark doesn’t even exist because the connection between us has faded so completely.

We don’t have the mental link that we should. With a fully formed bond, he would have known I was going into heat almost as soon as I did. But letting Maya wrap her lips around my cock must have triggered something. The pleasure I felt so great that it could cross over our bond and wake him from his drunken stupor.

Logan’s footsteps pound overhead, his Alpha growl vibrating through the still locked door.

Maya’s eyes widen, fear radiating from her in waves that alters her scent. That cherry and champagne sweetness, with the salt tang of fear, is more alluring than it’s ever been, especially now that it’s mixed with my own. Damn her.

“Cillian?” Maya’s voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts. “Answer me. Who is it?”

She knows. Of course, she knows. She just wants to hear me say it, justify the accusation and betrayal I see in her dazed eyes.

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