Page 42 of Bonds of Hate

Goddamned heat suppressants.

Even though the chemical alterants to prevent a heat cycle have never been outlawed outright, the supply is strictly controlled and tracked. In some circles, the use of heat suppressants is considered the ultimate taboo.

More extreme Alphas think they’re no different from abortifacients. Though let’s be honest, the average Alpha knows as much about Omega biology as a tree stump.

I don’t know which is more surprising, that she had the balls to ask or that Logan agreed to let her have them.

The purple-haired Omega piqued my curiosity the moment she walked through the palace doors a year ago, even though I hoped we’d never see her again. Her presence is a problem that we don’t need. Logan knows it, even if he couldn’t resist the urge to bring her under his thumb.

Managing his baser urges might be the greatest struggle of my entire damn life.

“When was your last heat?” I ask, hoping her answer is measured in weeks.

“About three months ago,” Maya huffs, sounding out of breath. “I usually get them every season though, so I’m coming due.”

I don’t bother slowing my pace for her, though one of my long strides is equal to at least two of her own. If it’s a struggle for her to keep up, she doesn’t utter so much as a squeak of complaint.

When I glance behind me, she keeps her head appropriately bowed and her eyes downcast as she hurries after me through the harem.

The perfect picture of Omega compliance.

What a joke.

“You can’t be more specific than that?”

Her lips thin in a frown. “I don’t keep a calendar.”

I scoff, not hiding my disdain. “I would have thought someone who stayed unbonded this long would have a more precise system in place.”

She opens her mouth, likely planning a snappy response, but shuts it again without saying anything.

But I see the shine of defiance in her eyes that she can’t hide.

Whatever force compelled her to come back here must be a powerful one, but it isn’t enough to transplant her personality. There isn’t a naturally submissive bone in this girl’s damn body.

Just one more thing that explains Logan’s persistent interest, though this would be easier if her natural resistance was the full extent of it. The dirty secret about Omegas thatAlphas are usually too dense to get is that no Omega is naturally submissive. Their submission must always be compelled or forced, otherwise Alphas would lose interest.

No predator wants their prey to just lay down and die. Without the chase to confirm your place at the top of the food chain, what’s the point?

Despite the king’s edict, Logan signing a mating contract with any of these Omegas is a bad idea. But this girl represents more danger than even he realizes. It isn’t just that Maya is beautiful. Plenty of Omegas are beautiful. She is too well-trained, too smart and too willing to bend without breaking.The longer she stays around, the more likely that she’ll see something she shouldn’t.

The back of my neck itches just thinking about it.

I open a nondescript door. While technically a bedroom, the space is barely large enough for a metal frame twin bed, a dresser and a simple wooden desk. A single bare lightbulb hangs from the center of the room, providing just enough illumination to hit all four of the bare walls.

Even jail cells usually have windows, but the harem has to remain secure. No ruler of Melilla has ever cared if his whores had access to natural light.

“This is where you will sleep,” I inform her. I watch for the look of disappointment, but she merely nods in response with the same neutral expression she wore throughout our negotiation. Rattling her is going to be more difficult than I assumed it would be. “I hope you weren’t expecting to stay in the prince’s royal apartments.”

Like the other Omegasis the part I leave unspoken, though she has to be smart enough to pick up on the insult.The harem is for betas and now the Omegas not worthy of a permanent place.

Maya blinks once, but provides no other physical reaction. She steps inside and peers into the small closet. It already has a handful of plain dresses hanging in it, sourced from the harem’s storage. The bag full of meager belongings she brought with her is already on the bed.

“I’ve found it unwise to have too many expectations. At least I get a room by myself. That’s nice.”

I find that response unreasonably annoying. Stashing her in the harem is an insult, almost as much as the ludicrous contract she just signed. Any other Omega would pitch a fit right now, demanding a room with a view and private bathroom, at least.

A growing part of me wants to slap that serene look right off her face.

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