Page 41 of Bonds of Hate

Turning away with a frown, Cillian taps a message onto the tablet screen. “I need confirmation for this.”

I cross my arms over my chest to hide a nervous shiver. “Take your time.”

The tablet pings almost immediately in response, as if the recipient was waiting for it. It makes me wonder why Logan isn’t here himself. Maybe assigning the lowest-ranked member of his inner circle to was just another insult heaped on top of all the rest.

Cillian raises his head to look at me, gaze tracking over my face as if searching for something. If he finds it, he gives no sign. His expression remains carefully neutral as he holds the stylus out to me.

“Prince Logan will accept all of your terms, understanding that they remain entirely confidential. Sign here at the bottom.”

I feel a surge of relief, so potent that I almost pass out.

That relief is immediately followed by suspicion.

Sure, Logan threw down the first gauntlet when he turned our mating contract into a kink permission slip. If I were still an Enclave Omega, the instructors would have forbidden me from signing it, even with the negotiated concessions. But my last request was entirely unprecedented, scandalous even, and I’m smart enough to know that he has no obvious reason to accept it.

Unless I’m playing right into his hands.

But even if that’s true, I don’t have any other choice.

My fingers just barely brush against his as I take the stylus pen. Cillian yanks his hand back as if the touch burned.

The slim bit of metal feels too heavy in my hand, the tips of my fingertips tingling with whispers of electricity that I know are in my imagination. My vision focuses and blurs simultaneously, the periphery fading out as the thick black signature line of the contract grows larger until it’s all I can see.

Perkins makes an involuntary movement as if to stop me, though we all know it’s too late for that. A single look from Cillian deflates her, his expression the coldest I’ve seen it so far.

With a single exhale, I sign myself away.

“You’re dismissed,” he snaps at the house mother. “She belongs to Prince Logan now.”

With a stiff curtsy and a last sympathetic look cast in my direction, Perkins turns on her heel and stomps out of the room.

The door slams shut behind her, loudly enough to echo in the sudden silence.

“What’s next?” I ask, hating the note of apprehension in my voice.

Cillian continues to stare at me, saying nothing. His gaze peruses my body in a slow appraisal. He lingers on the high slit of my dress, dancing over my slim waist and the curve of my chest, before returning to my face.

But there isn’t any heat to his attention.

If anything, he looks at me like a hunk of meat hanging in the butcher window. And he can’t decide if I’m worth taking home for a holiday dinner.

He takes a step forward. I instinctively back away before catching myself. It’s too late for the shrinking violet routine. My consent has been signed and witnessed. AsLogan’sduly appointed representative, there really isn’t much Cillian can’t do to me.

The idea makes my skin crawl, even as my heart starts beating about a thousand beats per minute.

Frozen, I stare at the ground as the tips of his shiny boots come to a stop just at the edge of my gold, strappy sandals, also courtesy of Viladi.

He doesn’t speak until I finally look up, our faces close enough that his eyes dominate my vision in a shock of frozen blue.

“I underestimated you,” he murmurs, finally. His breath coasts over my cheek, exhaling a scent sweeter than I expect, even though I can’t quite place it. “Fair warning, though. I won’t do it again.”

There is absolutely no good answer to that.

Chapter Nine

CILLIAN

Heat suppressants.

---