Page 31 of Bonds of Hate

The rooming house used to be a Victorian mansion, one of the few standing relics of the old civilization.

My room is the smallest and cheapest in what used to be attic space. It has no windows and a stairwell that leads nowhere else. The inherent privacy compensates for a complete lack of natural light.

I would have negotiated a weekly rate if I thought I’d still be here by now. My interview with Logan had gone better than my worst imaginings, but I’d been foolish to think he’d be so overcome by my presence to offer me a mating contract on thespot.

Stupidity with men seems to be one of my few consistent character traits.

I step into the room and freeze in place. Everything looks the same, from the unmade and rumpled bed to the pile of laundry in the corner that I won’t be able to do until I scrounge up coins for the pay washer in the rooming house’s basement.

Nothing has changed, so why do I feel a sudden urge to run for my life?

The air stirs, so subtly that I could have imagined it.

Then the door slams shut behind me, and silent footsteps bring a hard male chest against my back.

My instincts are impeccable, but my speed leaves something to be desired. Still, I react as quickly as I can. I pull the folding knife I always carry out of my pocket and flick it open in a single movement.

I thrust wildly behind me without looking, hitting something soft and firm enough to be flesh, even if I can’t tell what kind.

A restrained grunt is my attacker’s only reaction. When I move to stab again, the knife is backhanded out of my grip hard enough to leave my wrist aching.

I open my mouth to scream, but a hand large enough to cover the entire lower half of my face slams it shut. The sound dies a strangled death in my throat.

A recognizable voice growls against my ear.

“I’ll let you go if you agree not to scream.” Poe’s voice is a dark wash of barely restrained violence. “Or I can find a more permanent method to keep you quiet if you want to be difficult.”

A full body shudder runs through me. Fear andanticipation war for dominance, robbing me of the ability to form any thought more coherent than this one:

Poe came here alone. He would only do that for one reason.

Prince Logan doesn’t know Poe is here.

His fingers tighten on my jaw, a warning that he won’t tolerate anything but an instantaneous response. I give the smallest of nods, the most I can manage past the strength of his grip.

I whirl to face him the moment his hands slide away, rubbing my now sore jaw.

“Poe, always a pleasure.” I keep my voice pitched low. Even I’m not bold enough to deliberately needle a pissed off Alpha who has me trapped in an enclosed space. That said, if he were here to kill me then I’d already be dead and I can’t quite conquer my love of sarcasm. “If I’d known you’d be making a social call, I would have been ready with tea and scones.”

“I prefer we not waste any more time than we have to.”

Seeming completely adjusted to the darkness, Poe stalks around the room. He flicks the sheets of my bed and kicks over the pile of laundry.

“Looking for something?” I ask, edging a few inches so I’m closer to the door.

He sniffs the air. “You haven’t been here for a year. Not even close.”

“Never said I had,” I reply evenly, doing my best not to telegraph my growing alarm at his presence and behavior. Poe has always been the most unpredictable of Pack Logan. “How did you find me, anyway?”

“Cillian placed a tracker in yourhair.”

I run my fingers through the fancy side ponytail I hadn’t yet undone. The pointed ends of bobby pins prick my fingers until I feel one that is harder and rounder than the others.

“Very cute.” Extracting the tiny piece of metal, I toss it on the floor without bothering to look at it. Not that it matters now. “On your orders, I presume.”

The dark eyes that study me are completely dead. “Orders weren’t necessary. He knew we wouldn’t want to lose track of you this time. Not when you’ve decided to reappear at the worst possible time.”

That damn beta is even worse than the rest of them.

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