Page 59 of Bonds of Hate

“There we go. All comfy.” The laughter in his voice is obvious, though I refuse to look back at the shit-eating grin he must be wearing. “What a perfect morning to have the upholstery repaired on those old dining chairs.”

The shame of being treated like a little Omega doll he can toss around makes me see red, but I swallow the surge of annoyance.

“Let’s try something lighter,” he murmurs to himself as he plucks a fruit and yogurt parfait from the display at thecenter of the table and places it in front of me. “You like candied ginger, right? Ginger is supposed to be good for nausea.”

He doesn’t wait for a response as his long-armed reach brings a selection of food items closer that he thinks might interest me.

The obvious concern for my eating habits brings a burst of unexpected warmth that curls low in my belly. Everyone always says that Alphas are supposed to take care of their Omegas, provide and protect. Concerned primarily, even exclusively, with their Omegas wellbeing. That was the purpose of their designation. But I’d stopped believing that was anything more than Enclave propaganda a long time ago.

Ares holds up a spoonful of yogurt and fruit to my lips, the distance respectful enough that the move doesn’t feel forced. “Try this. I added some pumpkin seeds for texture. The mix of salty and sweet is better than you’d expect.”

I accept the bite, surprised not to feel the nearly constant wave of nausea as I swallow it down. Ares is right, the pumpkin seeds are a nice touch. A swell of hunger rises and I eagerly reach for the spoon. With a chuckle, Ares bats my hand away and scoops up more of the parfait himself. He insists on feeding me several more bites before finally relinquishing the eating utensil.

His purr rumbles gently against my back as he watches me eat. For the first time, the sound is more comfortable than it is alarming.

“Already planning to fatten her up?” Logan’s mocking voice breaks the otherwise companionable silence.

He doesn’t look up from his tablet, but I can’t fight theinstinctive impression that he hasn’t missed a single second of my interaction with Ares.

“Why not?” Ares responds, obviously unbothered by the chiding tone. “She might blow away in the wind as she is now.”

Logan snorts. His gaze finally rises from the tablet, taking in the scene of me sitting on Ares’s lap with a derisive expression. “As long as you stop short of us needing to roll her down the hallway.”

Ares slides his hand over the soft curve of my belly, settling there with a blaze of heat. Nostrils flaring, Logan’s gaze falls to where Ares’s hand gently caresses the curve of my stomach. I feel a distant urge to push his hand away, an attempt to break the sudden tension between them, but I’m frozen in place.

Ares’s voice is a low growl. “Just imagine this little belly all round and lush. We finally have an Omega. Don’t you want to keep her all filled up? Whether it’s with food or whatever else she needs?”

Heat floods my cheeks as his meaning registers.

Sex, particularly with an Alpha, remains an abstract concept for me. Slick and knots and mating bites might be familiar terms, but actually facing the reality of what it will really mean to become their Omega is overwhelming.

I already know what it feels like for my body to belong to someone else, and there was absolutely no pleasure in it.

But the fingers that gently curve around my hand to bring the spoon back to my lips are gentle, without specific demand or expectation beyond seeing me fed. His other hand stays cupped around my belly but doesn’t stray lower, implacable but placid.

It’s that gentleness that proves to be my real undoing.

My thighs clench together, an involuntary spasm compelling my hips to grind in a slow circle in Ares’s lap.

He responds immediately. The bulk of his body curving around mine, his body heat wrapping around me.

Yanking me back against his chest, he grinds my hips down hard on his lap. “I know you want me to fill you up. Don’t you, sweetheart?”

A blaze of heat passes over my skin like the muggy bite of a hot summer day. Damp sweat breaks out along my skin as wetness collects between my thighs.

Logan makes no secret of his attention now, his burning stare taking in the display that Ares almost certainly arranged intentionally.

As if sensing my growing suspicion, Ares angles to whisper in my ear. His voice is soft enough not to carry past the two of us.

“Look at how he watches you, princess.” His breath drifts across my brow, cooling the sweat gathered on my brow. “Do you think he might be imagining that yogurt is something different sliding down your throat? I know I am.”

Ares lowers his head close enough that his lips brush the corner of my mouth, almost close enough to be a kiss.

Logan’s growl is pure threat.

“Oh, enough of this,” Poe snaps. He shoves up from the table and stomps across the dining room to a closed door near the hallway. Ripping it open, he produces one of the missing dining chairs and drags it back to the table. He sets it down next to Ares with a loud thump. “Move, Omega.”

I expect Ares to hold me in place when I rise from hislap, but his hands linger without holding me down. He makes a point of scooting close enough to move my half-eaten plates in front of me, though he doesn’t touch me again.

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