Page 65 of Bonds of Pain
I reach out and gently squeeze his hand. “I really do appreciate this, you know. That you’re listening to me.”
The slight flush on his cheeks tells me I’ve hit my mark. For all his confidence, Ares just wants me to feel like I need him. He wants to provide and to be appreciated for it.
It’s almost enough to make me want to actually like him.
Too bad, almost isn’t good enough.
“At least you’refashionablylate!” I hear her voice just before Saffron grabs my arm as we approach the doors of the receiving room where the coalition meeting is being held. “I love this dress.”
“Logan chose it, if you can believe that.”
Scarlet-colored eyebrows climb up her forehead. “You’re joking. Nikolai is a dear, but he wouldn’t know a day dress from a nightgown.”
I give her a thin smile. “Just lucky, I guess.”
“Of course, you are.” As we wait to be announced, she waves manicured fingers in Ares’s face, shooing him away. “No boys allowed. We’ll call when we need you.”
I don’t miss Ares’s sigh of relief as the doors close in his face.
And as I take in the bustling scene around me, I immediately wish I could rejoin him outside.
The coalition meeting might as well be a beautiful cage filled with exquisite birds. A dozen Omega, and remarkably fewer beta, women in designer dresses flutter between ornate furniture, their movements practiced and delicate. The air smells of expensive perfumes competing for dominance—jasmine, rose, vanilla—all carefully chosen to complement rather than mask their natural Omega scents.
“Everyone, this is Maya Tantamount, Prince Logan’s mate.” Saffron’s voice carries across the room with practiced authority.
All conversation stops. Every perfectly made-up face turns toward me, expressions ranging from curiosity to barely concealed hostility.
“How...lovely. We’ve heard just so much about you, Miss Tantamount.” A tall woman with dark auburn hair approaches, her smile not reaching her eyes and the note of hesitation in her voice unmistakable. “I’m Duchess Elara of House Whydon. We’ve been eager to meet the Omega who captured our future king’s heart, rejected him and then came popping back up like a bad habit.”
“Did she capture Prince Logan’sheart,or something else entirely?” another woman snickers to a chorus of giggles.
Saffron gives my arm a gentle squeeze, the movement too small for the others to notice. It’s a warning that I don’t need. This is a test, just another game at court. If I let these women walk all over me now, they’ll never let me forget it.
“The pleasure is mine,” I lie, keeping my voice soft and sweet, though I turn to Saffron with a look of exaggerated confusion. “Though they are correct that I am the future king’s mate. There’s another word for that, I think. It’s so hard for me to remember what it might be.”
Saffron gives me a knowing smile. “I think the word you’re looking for is queen.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” I give a demure shrug before turning to the other women with a cold look. “All in good time, I suppose.”
Elara blanches, obviously assuming I would ignore the rudeness of her introducing herself by title, while neglecting to offer me one. “Of course, your ladyship.”
I offer a practiced smile to the other women who all sit up a little straighter as my gaze passes over them. “Please just call me Maya. We’re all friends here.”
“Let’s sit here.” Saffron guides us to a plush settee not quite in the center of the fray, but close enough that we don’t seem separated. “Tea?”
I allow myself to be guided to the seat, feeling their stares assessing every detail of my appearance, searching for flaws, for weaknesses. These women might look like decorative accessories to their powerful mates, but I recognize the calculation behind their smiles. They have the potential to be as dangerous as any Alpha, perhaps even more so because it’s harder to see them coming.
As a servant pours, I notice the women exchanging glances. They’re sizing me up, determining if I’m a threat or an ally in whatever power games they play. I need to be careful here—these women have information, connections, and influence I could use. But one wrong move, one slip that reveals the truth about my situation, and they could destroy me.
I take the delicate teacup, my hands steady despite the danger. “So, shall we get started?”
The good news is that whatever planning responsibilities the Omega coalition has takes only about fifteen minutes of discussion. The bad news is that this leaves the hour left in the meeting time devoted exclusively to gossip.
As the meeting dissolves into side conversations, an older woman with honey-blonde hair and a skintight gold dress squeezes onto the settee beside me, practically pushing Saffron to the edge. She reeks of expensive perfume and old money.
“Countess Vivienne Marsden.” She extends a manicured hand, her grip surprisingly firm. “So lovely to finally meet Prince Logan’s Omega. You’re quite the talk of the court.”
“So, I’ve gathered,” I reply, matching her saccharine smile with one of my own.
