Page 22 of Bonds of Hate

Considering it has only been a year since I last saw him, it shouldn’t surprise me that Prince Logan looks exactly as I remember him. But I hoped that a faulty memory influenced the intimidating image in my head.

Until this very moment, I had myself convinced that the perfection of his features was something I created to torture myself. Reality couldn’t possibly match up to that terrible recollection.

So wrong.

If anything, the angle of his jaw is more sharply cut than I remember. The curve of his lips lush even as they twist into a cruel smirk.

I hate that a face so beautiful can hide so much cruelty.

Prince Logan is a predator laying a trap so he can hide in plain sight. The lure of a brightly colored Venus fly trap awaiting the perfect moment to snap its jaws tight around me.

I hate him so much.

Logan hasn’t even bothered to look up from thetablet in his hand. As if he has all the time in the world to make what he thinks is a desperate Omega wait for some acknowledgement of her existence. His jaw flexes in apparent annoyance as he glares down at the screen.

Makes me wonder what he would do if I broke that tablet with his head.

My attention shifts to the two Alphas standing at the prince’s back, allowing me time for a shameless assessment of them.

At this point, I have nothing left to lose.

Both are also exactly as I recall. Poe stares at me, cat-slanted eyes narrowing in suspicion and annoyance as recognition slowly grows in his expression. Black tattoos twine up his neck like encroaching shadows, more of them than he had before. I assume his entire upper body is covered in them, judging by the tattooed black whirls and vines visible where his shirt cuffs meet his wrists. His dark hair is longer, hanging in an artful shag over his forehead and casting his pale face in perpetual shadow.

He is practically the darkness, personified.

Ares’s grin widens when my gaze shifts to meet his. Manic energy lights up his eyes. His cinnamon brown curls and deep blue eyes might be cherubic, but they’re matched with a demon’s smirk. His smile does nothing to soften his features. If anything, I find it just as frightening as Poe’s glare. Nostrils flare wide. He makes no secret of how he scents the air, licking his lips in obvious pleasure. I can practically see him rubbing his hands together in anticipation, even though his arms stay crossed over his burly chest. Built like a brick wall, the man is almost a head taller than the other Alphas.

I already know that they can’t be trusted to rein in the prince’s darker urges.

More like fuel to the raging fire.

The blonde guard remains in the room, slamming the door shut with enough force that I’m shocked into looking back at him. It’s only then than I realize that I also recognize him. The platinum blonde beta guard that had stood over Logan’s shoulder when he forced me to my knees.

Icy eyes regard me with a bored expression, similar to the one he wore when the prince shoved his dick down my throat. “Your next interview is here, Prince Logan.”

Logan finally deigns to look up as I turn back to face him. His gaze lands first on my hair, lips twisting into a mocking smirk. “Better luck next time, baby. I’ve already seen more than enough bad dye jobs for one day…”

He cuts himself off as his gaze drifts to my face. The mockery remains, but his expression hardens, casting his features into something that could be carved from stone. A true courtier, Logan’s face is entirely devoid of emotion as he stares me down.

His prolonged silence and continued stare are the only evidence of whatever dark thoughts swirl behind those golden eyes.

His pack mates recover from their shock more quickly.

“What the fuck is she doing here?” Poe spits, not bothering to hide his disgust.

Ares gives me a malicious grin, leaning enough of his weight on the desk that the wood groans in protest. His gaze remains fixed on the swell of my chest in the too tight dress. “Providing some much-needed entertainment.”

Ignoring them, I keep my attention on the prince.Logan is the one who will decide if this gamble pays off, and anticipating his moods is more difficult than walking a tightrope. I can’t afford any distractions, even dangerous ones.

With so little time to prepare, I didn’t come here with a game plan. If anything, the energy that carried me to this moment was nothing more than a heady combination of adrenaline and desperation.

But I remember my last encounter with the prince well enough to know that he appreciates sparks of aggression, as long as they’re easy for him to conquer. The predator might ultimately want to catch its prey, but they still want to chase it first.

“Not a dye job.” I flip the long fall of my hair back over my shoulder, noting how his gaze briefly follows the movement. “Though I have been told before that it’s my best feature.”

Logan blinks. Once. Then a devastating smile spreads slowly across his face, devoid of any trace of actual humor.

The tension in the room noticeably shifts. Heat spreads across my chest as it settles over me just what I’ve done by stepping foot inside this room.

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