Page 33 of Bonds of Hate

Air cools the drying slick on my thighs as I yank my pants back into the place. Outrage wars with despair as I meet an empty pair of eyes. If he feels even an ounce of regret, there is no sign of it on his face.

“I already told your prince. You can have whatever information you wantafterI sign a mating contract. I assume you have no further objections now that you know I’m not a liar.”

“On the contrary, the fact that you were telling the truth just makes you even more dangerous than I thought.”

My shoulders drop in sudden exhaustion. We are firmly on the same page. All I want is to never see him again. Unfortunately, that isn’t one of my available options.

I refuse to let him see me cry, so I fight through the maelstrom of conflicting emotions.

“So what…you’re here to threaten me into disappearing?”

A humorless smile briefly twists the harsh line of his mouth. “Would a threat actually work?”

I glare back at him. “Obviously not.”

He picks up a duffel bag that I only just now notice on the floor at his feet. When he tosses it on the bed, I hear the unmistakable sound of credit chits jangling together. “This is twenty thousand notes. Enough to buy out even the largest Enclave contract. You’ll get twice this much after you ignore the royal summons you’re going to get in the morning and Logan signs a mating contract with someone else. Enough that you can go anywhere and do anything. You can even buy a whole new identity if you want one.”

My gaze snaps to his face at those last words, but read nothing in his expression. It’s impossible to tell if he knows more than he lets on or if that was just a good guess at my ultimate desire to disappear.

“You’ve made your offer,” I bite out. My gaze moves over him and I feel a burst of satisfaction when I note the growing pool of red on his shirt. Even if he barely reacted, at least I did a bit of damage when I stabbed him. “Now get out of my room before I stab you again.”

“Don’t get all teary-eyed. This is what you signed yourself up for.” He holds up the hand still coated in my virgin blood, not breaking eye contact as he licks his fingers clean. “But you need better aim or a bigger knife. That little pigsticker is worse than useless. When you stab the next Alpha, all you’re going to do is piss him off.”

I can’t resist the question as he turns to leave. “Are you pissed off?”

His eyes are a flash of obsidian as he glances back over his shoulder before disappearing into the dark hallway. “Always.”

Chapter Seven

POE

Well, fuck.

Logan’s moodiness might qualify as the first clinical case of male PMS, but anger is only one of a practical cornucopia of options. Ares wears superficial charm like a mask. The guy who laughs while the world burns down around him. Typical of a beta, Cillian navigates the Alpha posturing with the placid resolve of a true consigliere — always underfoot, but never in the way.

Though Cillian has been conspicuously absent from the Omega welcome proceedings tonight.

I get that I’m angry one, that I walk around with a perpetual storm cloud over my fucking head. I can’t help it. Most people make me feel like I’m going crazy.

My rage is a deep and dark well that I draw upon at will. Anger carries me through when there has been nothing else left of me.

But what I’m not is impulsive.

Like a god of wrath, my anger is a weapon I’ve honed to be sharper than a knife’s edge. It has never failed me.

Until now.

Maya doesn’t respond to anger. At least, not in any way that might be useful. I should have played our last interaction softer, tried lulling her into a false sense of security.

Intimidation might have been the absolute worst approach. She had been easy to scare away a year ago, but whatever happened between now and then clearly changed something.

This mix of confidence and desperation isn’t a combination I’ve ever seen in an Omega before. Clearly, I need to switch up my approach if I want to crack the mystery of her sudden reappearance.

Because I don’t believe a word she said about some fucking change of heart. That girl loathes Logan. I saw the hate burning in her eyes and in every muscle that twitched when he touched her.

Those same muscles currently coil in barely restrained violence as Logan lounges on his throne in the palace receiving hall. The room is nearly full, courtiers and lesser nobles practically oozing out of the woodwork as they wait for the princes’ new Omegas to be presented. This assemblage is calmer than it would be normally, with no open debauchery or violence in evidence.

The presence of unbonded Omegas is enough entertainment for now.

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