Page 24 of Bonds of Hate

Logan angles my chin so that I can see the two Alphas standing behind him, both watching me with rapt attention. Ares is all eagerness, giving me a lascivious wink when our eyes meet. Poe’s stance — legs spread and arms crossed over his chest hard enough to make every muscle in his upper body bulge — is pure aggression. But I don’t miss the thread of anticipation strumming through him. He might hate all Omegas, but that won’t stop him from fucking one into the ground if he gets the chance.

Logan leans closer, his breath warm on my cheek. Heinvades. Until personal space is a foreign concept. “Would you let me share you?”

My breath hitches, but I can manage a single word. “Y-yes.”

“I want to hear you say it,” he purrs, voice practically a caress.

This is a test. Just like every other word out of his mouth since I walked through the door. His questions only have wrong answers.

But it’s too late for me to back out now.

“I will let you share me.”

He wrenches my head back, forcing me to look at him. Light from the single window slices across his face, setting gold eyes on fire with enough heat to make me combust on the spot.

His tongue dips just out of his lips, as if he relishes the taste of my fear in the air. I know that my stoic exterior won’t actually fool him, but I need him curious enough to take the risk.

“And what if I don’t want you willing?”

I force myself to meet his gaze without flinching, even as my next words taste like ash on my tongue.

“Then I’ll fight.”

Logan takes a slight step back. The abrupt loss of his body heat sends an icy chill running through me.

He tilts his head to the side, frankly assessing me. His gaze moves over my body in open appraisal. This time he makes no secret of the assessment as he picks up a strand of my hair and twines through his fingers.

“Purple is the color of royalty,” he murmurs. Dilated eyes stare me down, black slowly encroaching on the goldlike an eclipsing sun. “But I never got a chance to see if the carpet matches the drapes. Take off your dress and show me.”

When I hesitate, triumph twists his lips into a smirk.

“Or you can walk away now,” he drawls. “If you run, no one will chase you. We’ve already got more Omega pussy around here than we know what to do with.”

My trembling hands move to the seed pearl buttons on my chest. The front closure is old-fashioned, which makes removing the dress more time-consuming.

No one speaks as I undo the buttons. I keep my gaze trained downward so I can’t see the expressions on their faces.

Heavy fabric falls to my waist, revealing my shameful lack of undergarments. Their absence isn’t some play at seduction. I had no reason to think the prince would insist I strip for him in the middle of our interview.

This dress was the best of my limited options and I don’t have a bra that wouldn’t show through the plunging neckline.

Logan lets his gaze drop to my bare chest. He gives a low whistle of appreciation.

“At least one thing hasn’t changed,” he says to his pack. “She still has amazing tits.”

Poe crosses his arms over his chest and leans back against the wall, gaze mocking. “I’ve seen better.”

His words are cutting, but I don’t miss the bulge in his pants that he tries to hide by shifting his position.

Ares makes no secret of his interest. “I think they might actually be bigger than last time. Maybe she spent the last year whelping a pup for whatever Alpha had her.”

I don’t bother pointing out that unbonded Omegas rarely conceive. It is practically a statistical impossibility.

Ares shifts around the desk, hesitating only when Logan’s lips curls in a silent growl. He stops at the edge, shamelessly ogling my bared chest.

Logan regards me impassively until my attention returns to him.

“It would serve you right if I let him at you. Lucky for you, I’m not in the mood for that game today.” Smiling at my reaction to that implied threat, he gestures at the fabric still pooled around my waist. “I didn’t tell you to stop. Keep going.”

---