Page 90 of Bonds of Hate

I snap fully awake with enough speed that it makes myhead ache. Memories from last night come flooding back with the force of a gut punch. The gala. Logan’s cruelty. Running to hide in the apartment. Ares finding me. His hands. His mouth.

Heat rushes to my face and I bury it in the sheets, so my involuntary scream is muffled. Aftershocks of remembered pleasure and a fair amount of shame create a confusing morass in my head.

Omegas are meant to serve Alphas. That idea was drilled so deep in at the Enclave, I feel it in my bones. Obeying. Submitting. Performing. Those are all things I’m supposed to do, which is why it’s so easy for them to compel my body into enjoying it.

So why does this all feel so confusing?

A soft snore breaks through my spiral of thoughts. The bed is massive, larger than king size, with enough space that I don’t initially recognize the large mound under the blankets a few feet away from me as another person.

I slowly drag the covers back to find Ares sprawled next to me, his body such a furnace of heat that I question his need for a blanket at all. He has one muscular arm flung over his face. His chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, light brown curls plastered to his forehead.

He looks peaceful enough that I could almost forget what I let him do to me last night. The pleasure-fixated predator he can so quickly become. For now, the hard lines of his face have softened in sleep, taking off years and some of the threat he poses.

Almost.

My gaze falls to the defined muscles of his arms and bare chest. Even in my position hovering over him, his size isa pure intimidation factor. He looks entirely capable of tearing me in half with his bare hands.

I keep my gaze on his face as I slowly back off of the bed, alert to any twitch that might signal he is waking up. When I look down at myself, I’m surprised to find that my borrowed dress is no longer wrapped around my body. Instead, I’m wearing a loose shirt that is long enough to reach my knees and can only belong to the man still snoring next to me.

I quietly move toward the door, glancing back at the bed every few seconds to ensure the distinctive lump of him hasn’t moved. His scent follows me, wafting up from the fabric of his shirt. I hate that I find being enveloped in his scent comforting, that it tempts me to crawl right back into the bed with him. Even more, I hate that he probably pulled the shirt out of his dirty clothes hamper for exactly this reason.

That’s what all Alphas feel compelled to do: mark their territory.

At least Ares chose a slightly less disgusting method than Logan did.

He had been kind for an Alpha. He hadn’t taken advantage of me when he almost certainly could have. I wouldn’t have been able to fight him off last night, even if I’d wanted to.

And it’s an open question of whether I would have wanted to.

I need to get out of this room.

Stupidly, I waste a few precious seconds looking for my dress, but it’s nowhere to be found in the open room. Risking the squeak of opening drawers or the closet doorisn’t worth it, but I give a quick look under the bed and on nearby surfaces.

Another soft snore convinces me to give up the obviously fruitless search. I’ll just have to change as soon as I get back to the harem. Logan, especially, won’t appreciate me smelling so much like Ares, and I doubt he’ll care that it wasn’t my choice.

My hand grasps the doorknob and I silently twist it.

Strong arms wrap around my waist, practically lifting me off the floor as I let out an involuntary shriek.

His voice rumbles against my back, gruff with sleep. “Where do you think you’re going?”

I force my muscles to go slack, though every instinct screams to struggle against the iron bands of his arms. Running will only make this worse. Much worse.

The equation is simple and absolute. When an Omega runs, an Alpha chases.

He prompts me, voice sly. “That was a question, Omega. I expect an answer.”

My mind struggles for an excuse that won’t escalate the situation. “I wasn’t going anywhere.”

His tongue lightly traces the curve of my neck, teasing. “Then why were you at the door?”

I keep my voice light, as if I’m not entirely overwhelmed. “I need a shower and clean clothes. I probably stink.”

His chest vibrates with a low growl I feel more than hear. He buries his nose against the side of my neck, drawing in a deep breath that makes my toes curl. “You smell perfect to me.”

The heat of his bare chest against my back sends shiversdown my spine. His scent wraps around me like a physical caress. It makes no sense that he can affect me this way. I don’t want to fight it, even though I know I should.

“I’m not supposed to even sleep here and now I smell like…”

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