Page 48 of Bonds of Hate

I swallow hard, trying not to squirm under his predatory stare. If I claim not to have tried to manipulate him, he’ll know I’m lying.

“I don’t expect you to forget anything,” I say after a beat of hesitation. At least that’s technically the truth.

“That’s smart, baby girl. Logan already warned us you’re a master manipulator. Probably can’t help yourself coming out of the Enclave.” Ares studies me with too much interest, the keen assessment in his eyes unsettling. I get the sinking realization that I made a mistake in thinking that the biggest, burliest Alpha must also be the dumbest. “Speaking of, I can’t quite figure out the play myself. You still haven’t explained what brought you back after rejectingus once before and then letting an entire year go by before popping up again.”

I swallow hard enough to make an audible sound. During my interview, I’d promised to tell them what they wanted to know, which is not the same thing as telling the truth.

“I’ve never forgotten that day, either.” My eyes drop to my lap as a play at demureness. Hopefully, he’ll hear the kernel of truth in the words and not focus on any details.

He laughs, the sound derisive. “I know you don’t expect me to believe you came back here just for a good knot.”

I shrug, but my shoulders remain tense. Hopefully, the note of genuine anger in my voice will ring with enough truth to satisfy him. “Until yesterday, I was sleeping in a rat-infested rooming house and up to my eyeballs in debt. Why wouldn’t I want the chance to be a princess, safe in the palace?”

His eyebrows lift and I realize just how drastically I misspoke. “Safe from what?”

Before I can answer, the apartment doors swing open. A servant wheels in a cart laden with covered dishes, the smell of food making my mouth water instantly. My stomach growls again, loud enough that the servant’s lips twitch as she sets out the covered plates.

Ares waves the servant away before she can finish arranging everything. He tips the silver dome lid off each platter, surveying it with narrowed eyes as if he needs to catalogue it all before we take a single bite. The door clicks shut behind her, leaving us alone with enough food to feed ten people.

The meal is a hodgepodge of dishes. Breakfast food ismixed with heartier dishes, to the point that I’m overwhelmed by the choice.

“Eat this. You need protein. “ He lifts the cover off a plate of what looks like eggs and bacon. “We’ll finish our conversation after.”

As soon as the smell hits me, it feels like my belly chooses that moment to wrap itself around my spine.

My hands shake as I reach for the fork. I’m hungry enough that I worry eating too fast will make it all come back up again, despite a growing desire to dunk my face directly into a nearby tureen of broccoli cheddar soup. The first bite of food hits my tongue and I have to bite back a moan. The eggs are perfectly fluffy, seasoned with herbs and a hint of aged cheese.

It only takes about a minute to forget everything I’ve ever learned about proper table manners. Ares watches me with obvious amusement, occasionally taking a break from the scrutiny to have a small bite of something random. I realize he is keeping track of everything I reach for, cataloguing both my favorites and what I avoid. Every so often, he slides another dish closer, urging me to sample it so I don’t eat too much of any one thing.

“Potatoes are one of the healthiest starches. Try these. They’re seasoned with rosemary,” he suggests, pushing the golden-brown wedges toward me.

His eyes track each movement as I reach for them, making me feel like I’m being studied under a microscope. He watches my mouth as I take a bite, eyes narrowing when our gazes meet.

When my pace begins to lag, he straightens in his chair.

“Come here.” He pats the polished wood surface beside his seat. “Up on the table.”

Fear flashes through me. I should have known the reprieve would be as temporary as possible. Ares compels my compliance with the natural force of an ocean wave, gentle as a tide in one moment until a violent wave crashes over me.

I hesitate, clutching a soft dinner roll that I’d just slathered with butter. “Can I finish this first?”

“Bring it with you.” His tone brooks no argument. “Now.”

My legs feel unsteady as I rise and perch carefully on the table’s edge next to his chair, the fabric of my robe rustling against the smooth surface. The height difference puts me slightly above him for once.

“Good girl.” Large hands settle on my each of my knees. He barely uses any pressure, but I’m not strong enough to stop him from spreading my legs obscenely wide. “Now, about that punishment I promised you.”

His fingers slide to the tie of my robe. I’m expecting it when he flicks open the knotted bow at my waist and yanks the robe down off my shoulders hard enough that it sets the plates around me shaking.

Ares regards my naked body with a grim sort of satisfaction, like he is finally unwrapping the birthday present he waited all year to get. He gently traces the heart shape of my little remaining pubic hair, his grin widening when I instinctively jerk away.

“I always hoped that the upholstery matched the drapes. Plenty of girls can dye the hair on their head, but they never get this part to match just right.”

My fingers clench in the crumpled fabric of my robe as I resist the urge to cover myself. I knew this was coming eventually, the appraisal that made me feel like a collection of body parts and biological urges instead of a person.

“I’m happy you’re pleased,” I grouse, not bothering to hide a note of sarcasm. What’s the difference if I’m already going to be punished?

Ares surprises me by laughing. “I’m about to be even happier.”

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