Page 17 of Bonds of Hate

There are more than a few Alphas willing to risk a fine, or even a prison sentence, if a scent-matched Omega appears at the right time. Bonds are permanent. That poor Omega will still be stuck with them once the legal dust settles. And more than one Alpha with sufficient resources has just bribed their way out of criminal proceedings. The police, judges, jurors — you can buy pretty much anyone for the right price.

All the rules and regulations in the world won’t stop a man determined to get his way, regardless of the consequences.

I know that better than anyone.

That makes the Enclave such a seemingly attractiveoption for Omegas. They promise ultimate protection while an Omega grows up and gains enough knowledge to choose the right Alpha. Their compound has as much security as the national treasury, a remote location far outside Capital City with thirty-foot fences, constant patrols of specially trained beta guards and no history of break-ins.

Or escape.

The only hazard is in neglecting to read their very specific fine print before signing yourself over to them.

As the girls come closer, their scents get picked up by the wind. Sweet fruity perfumes that make my nose twitch. Enough Omegas in one place smells like a candy store. Even in the open air, this many together is enough to make my teeth hurt.

The giggling group barrels past me, giving me as much notice as the perfectly manicured shrubbery.

I turn my head away as they pass, careful to keep my face hidden. My Enclave days are far enough behind me that I’m probably not at any risk of being recognized. But I’d still rather stay in the background until I formulate a plan.

The last thing my nerves need is uncomfortable questions about where I’ve been for the past year.

Or more importantly, why I’m still unbonded.

My steps are slow as I walk down the garden pathways toward the palace entrance. The closer I get, the more guards I encounter until it seems like they practically stand shoulder to shoulder along the path. There are more guards outside than I would have thought existed in the palace regiment and too many of them are Alphas. Pheromones arethick as a cloud in the air, so thick that I practically choke on it.

The taste of potent Alpha on the back of my tongue is the worst memory trigger. The type that makes my heart beat faster until every step feels like pushing through quicksand. Sweat breaks out on the back of my neck. My mind screams at me to run before it’s too late.

Why am I doing this?

A nearby guard shifts his attention to me, clearly scenting my fear in the air. I force myself to calm, taking deep breaths until he looks away.

The palace doors swing open as I approach, large and impenetrably thick. I already know they will close solidly behind me.

Irrevocably.

If there were any other choice, I would be a hundred miles from this place. Wishing and hoping had taken me to a darker place than I ever could have imagined. Now is the time to face cold reality.

One of the princes has to choose me because I am completely out of options. There will be too many girls here who are prettier, younger and more obedient than I am for this to be easy. I only need to grab the attention of one prince, but that still means standing out in a veritable sea of willing Omegas.

This time I’ll do whatever it takes.

The royal harem is utter pandemonium.

Even though I’d been expecting it, the reality of seeingdozens of women gathered in a space designed for half that number is absolutely overwhelming.Couches and armchairs have been arranged around the receiving parlor, all of them occupied. The furniture is mismatched. Most of it has obviously been commandeered from other rooms in the palace, probably with last-minute haste as more Omegas showed up at the palace. The king’s announcement is only a few days old, so more Omegas may still be on their way from outside of the city limits.

Somewhere around here, the palace’s head chamberlain is probably pulling his hair out by the roots.

Not everyone here is an Omega hoping for a prince to choose them today. In fact, the vast majority of women here are the betas who live permanently in the harem. The harem betas are easy to pick out. Most of them sulk at the periphery of the large central chamber, clustered in little groups and gossiping loudly about each Omega paraded toward the antechambers being used for the interviews. Jealousy isn’t a good look for anyone, but I can’t exactly blame them. One of these haughty Omegas being fussed over by the attendants might be our queen one day. Watching your place in the hierarchy be so easily usurped can’t be fun.fo

A round woman in a white lace apron with matching cap bustles up to me. Her age makes it impossible to determine her dynamic. At almost a head shorter than me, she could be an Omega by her size, but she moves with the authoritative energy of an old Alpha battle axe. Which means she can only be one thing.

The HBIC.

Head-Beta-in-Charge.

“Name?” she demands without looking up from the tablet in her hand.

“Maya Tantamount.”

She doesn’t react in any obvious way to my name, but taps something quickly on the screen. “You will wait here until you’re called. Omegas are being assigned to interviews with a prince based on his known preferences. You may interview with more than one of them, but that can’t be guaranteed because of time constraints. Omegas may be offered a mating contract or a position in the harem. Some of you may be thanked for your time and allowed to leave before the end of the day today. Any questions?”

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