Page 47 of Bonds of Hate

“When is the last time you ate?”

I shrug like it isn’t important enough to remember, though my heart races. If I let him know that I’m basically starving, he might decide to punish me by withholding my next meal. “I’m fine.”

His eyes narrow. “That wasn’t what I asked.”

There’s an edge to his voice that makes me shrink back instinctively.

“Yesterday morning.” I hate the way my voice trembles. My fingers twist nervously in my lap. “Before I came to the palace for my interview.”

His scent abruptly changes, any sweetness lost to the acrid stink of anger. I instinctively shrink away, but his grip tightens on my chin to prevent escape.

“Over twenty-four hours ago?” Ares releases me abruptly and steps back. Before I can even catch my breath, he scoops me up in his arms like I weighnothing at all. “For fuck’s sake, why didn’t you say something?”

“I didn’t want...” The words trail off as he takes the stairs two at a time, carrying me back to the main level. The swiftness of his movements makes me feel lightheaded as my body bounces in his arms. I grip his muscled arm with one hand to steady my spinning head before I realize what I’m doing and snatch my hand away.

“Didn’t want what?” he prompts darkly, his tone brooking no argument about answering.

“To give you another way to punish me.” I curl slightly into myself, even as his arms tighten around me.

“Oh, you are definitely getting punished in the most creative way I can think of in about thirty minutes. But I’m going to fucking feed you first, at least.”

The edge of annoyance hasn’t left his voice, but it has morphed into something different. If he were anyone else, I might mistake it for concern.

He deposits me in one of the dining room chairs with surprising gentleness. The dark wood feels cool against my back, and I grip the edge of the seat to steady myself.

A pang of discomfort reminds me of my recent wax job and complete lack of underwear. I wonder how many times I flashed him in the basement without even realizing it.

Striding to a panel on the wall, he jabs at a button that must be the intercom. There is barely a crackle of static before he snarls into the speaker. “I need food sent up. Whatever Omegas typically eat. And lots of it.”

“I’m really not that hungry.” My stomach chooses that moment to punctuate my words with another gurgle, even louder this time.

“Sure you’re not, precious.” His expression softens slightly, that demon’s smirk morphing into something conspiratorial. He runs a hand through those cinnamon curls, looking suddenly rueful. “Just sit there and try not to pass out before the food arrives. Logan will have my ass if I let you die on my watch.”

I don’t ask whether he means that last bit figuratively or literally. Sexual dominance is practically coded into Alpha DNA. If they get angry enough, it’s inevitable they’ll turn on each other to reassert the pecking order.

I also don’t comment on Logan’s supposed interest in my well-being. Aside from his quick response to Cillian during our negotiation, I would argue that he doesn’t even seem to care that I’m here.

Ares drums his fingers on the table as the uncomfortable silence stretches between us while we wait for the food to arrive. Patience clearly isn’t his strong suit. Every few seconds, he casts an annoyed glance at the door as if it’s inconceivable that the palace kitchen isn’t able to prepare and present a feast in under ten minutes.

“I don’t want to keep you from finishing your workout.”

I regret breaking the silence when his head swings back in my direction. His eyes might be the color of spring grass, but the expression in them is crisp as a winter day.

“You’re not keeping me from anything.”

My hands clench in the fabric of my robe. The movement makes it slip partially off my shoulder, revealing a swathe of skin just above the curve of my chest.

Ares gaze flicks down for a moment before returningto my face.

“The quiet is nice.” I clear my throat. “But I was expecting the whole pack to be here when I arrived.”

He grunts. “Logan has meetings and Poe stayed with him while Cillian handled the contract. No idea where the beta ran off to now.”

“I hope there isn’t anything else I’m expected to do or not do. Since I’ve already screwed up once.”

I’m being deliberate about not asking him an actual question, even if one is implied. That was one of the first things they teach at the Enclave. The only thing Alphas hate more than being told what to do is being questioned. This might be the only chance I have to get some information about what they plan to do with me. If I can distract Ares for long enough that he decides not to shove his dick down my throat, all the better.

He leans back in his chair until the wood creaks in protest. “Small talk and some skin isn’t going to make me forget you have a punishment coming.”

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