Page 83 of Bonds of Hate

But he surprises me by taking a sudden half-step back, leaving me with that startled feeling you get when you miss the last step on a flight of stairs. An uncomfortable jolt that leaves me very aware of the precariousness of this situation.

His hand takes a firm grip on my shoulder, holding me in place. The shadows in the alcove seem to grow darker,more menacing. A predatory gleam in his golden eyes sends chills down my spine, just before his other hand rips up the hem of my borrowed dress.

Logan easily resists my attempts to push him away, bunching the fabric up around my waist until my lower body is exposed.

My fingers scrabble uselessly against his forearm, scratching bloody furrows into the skin that he ignores. “What…are you doing?!”

His laugh is dark and all predator. “Claiming what’s mine.”

He won’t mark me. He can’t. A claiming bite given outside of heat won’t even create a true mating bond. It would be useless, a thing to be mocked. Everyone at the gala will see it and know that he is incapable of control.

And that I’m not worth waiting for.

With a sharp motion, he tears away my underwear and tosses it aside. The sound of ripping fabric echoes in the small alcove, making me flinch. Cool air rushesbetween my legs, and I’ve never felt more vulnerable.

Being suddenly bare brings another terrible realization. I’m already wet. Dripping. Slick coats the tops of my thighs, cool against the raging heat of my skin.

He notices immediately, and his chuckle is mocking. “Violence really does it for you, huh?”

I struggle harder against his grip, hating him and my own body for responding so easily. He effortlessly pins me with his weight, keeping me trapped against the wall and freeing both of his hands. Cold stone presses into my back as my chest heaves with panicked breaths.

“Let go of me!”

“You’re mine,” he bites out, glaring down at me. “By the time I’m done with you, everyone will know it.”

“I hate you,” I snap, never wanting to believe those words more than in this moment. “It doesn’t matter what you do to me. I’ll never be yours.”

One of his hand shifts to the fly of his pants, working at the buttons. His knuckles brush my overly sensitive flesh and my hips give a jerk of involuntary arousal. I look down, instinctively needing to see the evidence of my degradation, but the voluminous skirts of my borrowed dress are trapped between us, hiding his movement from sight.

I feel his hand move again and brace myself for the breaching pain. He is obviously not in the mood to be slow or gentle. It wasn’t that long ago that he promised to hurt me. I’m the one stupid enough to forget it.

His hand jerks and I flinch away, striking my head on the cold stone behind me.

But aside from a splitting headache, I feel no other pain.

Alpha cock hasn’t painfully shoved its way inside me.

“Tell me again how much you hate me.” Logan gasps, breathing hard around grunts of pleasure as he works at his own flesh. “It just makes this all easier.”

His grip is bruising on my hip, squeezing hard enough to compel a response.

“I hate you.”

Logan continues to jerk himself off. His knuckles drag through my folds with a maddening rhythm and not enough pressure to bring me anywhere near a release of my own.

The tip of him just barely traces my drenched seam before pulling away.

“Say it again.”

I want to bite him, hurt him, scream the walls down — anything to take back control of this moment.

Instead, I do what he commands. “I hate you.”

The knuckle of his middle finger dips inside meby the barest inch. “Louder.”

My traitorous body wants to be conquered, craves it like a good Omega should. But he won’t let me have it.

“Ihateyou.”

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