Page 91 of Bonds of Hate

“Like what?” he prompts when I trail off. His lips move against my skin like a caress as he speaks. “Go ahead and say it.”

I pull away from him and practically stumble into the door when he abruptly lets me go. When I whip around to face him, indignant, the smile on his face is mocking.

“Like we spent all night rolling around in bed together,” I snap.

His grin broadens. “We did.”

“The others won’t like it.” The protest comes out embarrassingly breathy. “Logan especially?—”

I let out a shriek of surprise when he swoops me up in his arms, bridal-style. When I struggle, he gives me a not-so-gentle pat on the ass until I go stiffly still.

“Excellent point.” Amusement colors his tone as he shifts his grip, somehow managing to hold me even tighter against him. “Let’s find out, shall we?”

“Open up,” Ares murmurs against my ear.

I shift uncomfortably as I balance sideways on his thigh. My face burns as he lifts another forkful of eggs to my lips. His other arm bands around my waist, keeping me firmly in place despite my squirming.

My gaze shifts to Poe, who was the first to come tobreakfast after Ares carried me into the dining room. Poe had taken one look at me wearing Ares’s shirt while trapped on his lap, rolled his eyes, and made himself a cup of coffee.

It’s hard to decide between embarrassment and annoyance at his reaction. Thanks for the help, asshole.

Between the events of last night and waking up in Ares’s bed this morning, the last threads of my sanity feel frayed and entirely ready to snap. My gaze keeps moving to the doorway, alert for the moment that Logan will walk in and tear us both apart.

I’ve officially given up on attempting to please the prince. Now I’m just interested in attracting as little of his attention as possible.

I glare at Ares, angling my mouth away when he holds up a spoonful of oatmeal. “I can feed myself, you know. And sit in my own damn chair.”

The low rumble of his voice is teasing. “Can you? Because you left the gala last night before dinner was served. What did I tell you would happen if I caught you skipping meals?”

He promised me punishment and we both know it.

Frustration swells in my chest. “I left the gala because Logan forced me to go.”

Ares shrugs, the movement bumping me on his knee. “Don’t see how that matters.”

“You didn’t tell me to eat anything in the apartment last night.”

His smile is wicked. “I’ve already given you the instruction. I shouldn’t have to repeat myself.”

My gaze flashes to Poe, who only seems interested in picking out the crispiest pieces of bacon off a nearby platter.Something tells me that the carefully contrived boredom won’t withstand Ares bending me over the table and spanking my bare ass, or whatever other corrective measure he might be considering.

“Don’t make me get creative,” Ares warns gently, still smiling despite his narrowed eyes. “You won’t like how muchIlike it.”

The spoon is still in my mouth when a door loudly slams. My position in Ares’s lap makes it impossible for me to turn and look, but the angry stride echoing off the marble floor is unmistakable.

A second set of footsteps might be silent if not for their hurried pace.

By the time they reach the open doorway of the dining room, I’ve pulled back from Ares enough that he isn’t actively feeding me. But the powerful arm he has slung around my waist limits any more movement than that.

“I have it on very good authority that a High Inquisitor has been appointed. It’s only a matter of time before an official announcement is made—“ Cillian’s words cut off as Logan freezes in the doorway. The smaller man stops short to avoid running into his broad back.

Logan stares, nostrils flaring with each dramatic rise and fall of his chest. Golden eyes are dark with anger as our gazes meet. I stare at him in the same way I would if I encountered a wild animal on the street, too smart to run and too scared to do anything else.

A muscle jumps in his jaw as his gaze passes over me, taking in the sight of me both wrapped in Ares’s shirt and tucked in his lap.

No one moves or speaks.Poe has stopped pickingthrough the bacon, chair creaking as he leans forward in anticipation of what might happen next. Cillian remains frozen in place behind Logan, but his glare is aimed directly at me, as if he considers this situation entirely my fault.

Ares breaks the tension with a loud yawn. “Morning, boss. Want some coffee?”

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