Page 41 of Bonds of Pain
“That’s not how this works,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel. “You know that.”
Maya reaches out a hand toward me, her eyes pleading. The bond between us pulses with her desperation, her need for comfort amidst violation.
“Don’t,” Logan warns, but it’s too late.
My fingers intertwine with hers, and the connection sparks like electricity. Through our touch, I feel everything—her fear, her anger, her determination not to break despite everything Logan has done to her.
Pheromones fill the air like a drug, our combined scents saturating
“I’m here,” I say softly, just for her.
Logan’s jaw clenches so tight I can hear his teeth grinding. “This isn’t a fucking threesome invitation.”
Maya stares at me with wide guileless eyes, but I sense the darker intent behind the bond. She might as well be screaming in my ear just how much the hurt Omega inside her believes our Alpha deserves to be punished.
The bond between us urges me to please her, regardless of whatever our personal feelings might be for each other. It’s a tickle at the back of my skull, a barely audible whisper in my ear that is nothing like the aggressive command I get from Logan.
It helps that our baser urges are in perfect agreement, at least in this moment.
“Isn’t it?” I raise an eyebrow at Logan in unabashed challenge. “You’re the one who commanded me to sleep in your bed.”
Through the bond, I sense Maya’s distress like a physical ache. Her emotions flood through me. Desperation, unresolved pleasure, and a fierce desire to be free of Logan’s embrace. His knot keeps them locked together, her body trapped beneath his even as her mind screams for escape.
I glance between them, understanding instantly what she needs. The bond between us pulses with her silent plea, stronger than any spoken words could be.
“Logan,” I say, my voice deceptively calm as I move closer to them on the bed. “I’m going to help her.”
“She’s fine. She isn’t in pain,” he growls, still lost in his post-orgasmic haze. Maya’s eyes meet mine, wide and pleading. Through our connection, I feel the stretch of his knot inside her, the way she wants nothing more than for it to deflate so she can get away from him.
“She still wants help,” I murmur.
I don’t miss the way his hands clench on his hips, the instinctive urge to rip her away that he suppresses. The Alpha in him doesn’t want to share because some part of him sees me as a threat.
Maybe he should.
I feel a flash of hurt at the inherent rejection, but it’s quickly followed by simmering anger. He thinks he can keep me removed from this. My Alpha thinks he needs to protect my Omega from me.
Regardless of what I feel for her on my own, the thought of it is infuriating.
The look of entreaty on Maya’s face and the desperation I feel from her through the bond is all the permission I need. The memory of her during our heat, before Logan’s forceful arrival, is visceral enough to send a lick of fie curling up my spine. She helped me then, I might as well return the favor.
I couldn’t protect either one of us then, but I can help get her what she needs now.
I shift on the bed, positioning myself beside them. Logan watches me with suspicious eyes, his arm tightening possessively around Maya’s waist.
“What are you doing?” he demands.
Instead of answering, I maintain eye contact with Maya as I lower my head.
Logan’s protests die on his lips as I press my mouth to Maya’s stomach, just above where they’re joined. Her skin is hot and slick with sweat, tasting of salt and something uniquely her. Itrail my lips lower, my tongue tracing patterns on her sensitive flesh.
“Cillian, enough,” Logan orders, though it lacks the force of a true command.
I ignore him, focusing instead on the soft gasps coming from Maya as my lips trace the bud of flesh just above where they’re joined. I can smell them both now, the musky scent of their coupling, and it should disgust me. Instead, it ignites a primal feeling inside me.
“Cillian—“ Logan begins, but cuts off with a groan as my tongue darts out to trace the stretched skin of Maya’s opening and catches the swollen edge of his knot.
Maya’s back arches slightly, her movement restricted by the weight of Logan’s body.
