Page 89 of Bonds of Hate

I’d suspected it from the beginning, but hearing him say it out loud strikes me in a way I don’t expect it to. He has no intention of mating Maya for real, much less bonding her with a claiming bite, not now or after every single question about her past is answered.

Keeping an Omega like a pretty fuck doll in a glass cabinet might be the biggest waste of something valuable that I can imagine.

Maya is a good Omega, as close to being perfect as any of them I’ve ever encountered. If he doesn’t want her, then what the fuck are we even trying to accomplish here?

I think back to the vision of her curled up in my bed, her scent mingling gently with mine on the sheets. My body’s reaction to that is visceral and impossible to ignore.

“Then it won’t bother you if I claim her?”

Glass cracks in Logan’s fist. “You wouldn’t dare.”

I cross massive arms over my chest, highlighting the size difference between us. “Doesn’t seem like it should matter, since you don’t seem to want her, anyway.”

He slams to his feet, glaring down at me in a posture full of Alpha aggression. “You’re really going to let her comebetween us, just because she has a cunt that can take a knot? After years of being packed up?”

I could challenge him, right here and right now. I’m bigger and better trained. Having the entire court as an audience would legitimize any claim I might make as the victor.

But Logan isn’t our Alpha because he can win a fight. He’s our pack Alpha because we want him to be, because following his lead has been the best thing for us until now.

So I fight the overwhelming impulse to knock his teeth down his throat.

“Tell me the real reason you don’t want her,” I pitch my voice lower because this conversation is only between us. “I’m not an idiot. I know there has to be something you aren’t telling me. Just let me in so we can settle this. Otherwise, I don’t think either of us wantto go where this fight will take us.”

We stare at each other for a protracted moment. I can practically see the wheels turning behind his eyes as he weighs the implied threat in my words against whatever bullshit he wants to sell me.

Logan finally looks away with a sound of annoyance. “There doesn’t have to be a fucking secret.”

“That isn’t a no,” I point out.

His jaw clenches. “Look at what’s happening right now. That fucking girl is already tearing us apart, and no one has even fucked her yet. She refuses to submit to me like she should, so I correct the behavior. Then she has you running after her to make it all better and undermine my efforts. This is just what Omegas do. Cause confusion. Sow chaos. Make us turn on each other.”

I mull that over. His words ring with truth, as if he believes it, but I still can’t fight the impression there is something deeper hiding underneath. “You think she played me?”

“I think you should enjoy her while you can, because there won’t be a Pack Logan anymore if we keep her around too long.” Logan pushes back from the table, only slightly unsteady on his feet from the likely half gallon of hard liquor he consumed tonight. “Now, I’m going to bed before you make me answer that challenge I see on your damn face.”

I watch him go, sitting with the inherent conflict between his words and my memories of Maya’s eager submission to me. This is all supposed to be about power: getting it and staying strong enough to keep it. If Maya threatens what we’re trying to achieve, then she has to go.

But thatifhangs over all of this like the blade of guillotine.

Because if we get rid of the most perfect Omega that I’ve ever met without a damn good reason, I won’t look at Logan in the same way again.

He insists that keeping her isn’t good for our pack.

I say it’s time we put that little theory to the test.

Chapter Nineteen

MAYA

Ifloat in that heady place between sleeping and waking. Warmth cradles my body, leaving the impression of being wrapped in a fluffy cloud. It takes a bit for me to put together that the cloud is actually soft sheets and blankets layered on the most comfortable surface I’ve ever laid on.

Eyes still squeezed shut, I wait for the inevitable wave of anxiety and fear to overwhelm me. But those dark emotions never come. This might be the first morning in a dozen when I didn’t wake from the throes of my worst nightmare.

A dark and oaky sweetness tickles my nostrils. Aged bourbon and dark chocolate mingle like a decadent dessert on my tongue. My muscles feel loose and relaxed. And all I want to do is burrow deeper and never leave this bed.

Except the tiny bed in my harem room has sheets so rough they might have a single thread count and the mattress feels like a piece of flat rock.

This isn’t my bed.

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