Page 83 of Bonds of Pain
Logan’s golden eyes narrow as he considers. Continuing to insist now will just make him look foolish, but he obviously doesn’t want me to so much as touch the powder in that baggie.
Which makes me want to snort the whole thing in one go, if only to spite him.
“One small taste wouldn’t hurt,” the bearded Alpha urges. “Show these Western lords that the capital’s future king isn’t afraid to let his Omega experience a provincial indulgence.”
I can feel Logan’s frustration radiating through our bond, a storm of anger building beneath his carefully maintained exterior. His fingers press into my hip hard enough to bruise, but his smile remains fixed in place.
“A small taste,” he finally concedes, his voice tight. “Since my mate is so curious.”
The victory is small but satisfying. I’ve forced him to bend, if only slightly, in front of others. As the young Alpha opens thebag and sprinkles a small amount in everyone’s glass, I risk a glance at Cillian. His face is expressionless, but I feel his concern pulsing through our bond.
Too late for second thoughts now. I’ve made my point, even if I have to sample a strange pink drug to do it.
As the others share a toast, Logan holds out his glass to me, now with a faintly glittering sheen to the dark liquid.
“You’re not having any?” I ask just before the glass reaches my lips, and I swallow down a mouthful of liquor that now tastes sweeter than it did before.
There is no trace of humor in his smile. “Tonight, it’s probably best if at least one of us remains in touch with reality.”
A strange tingle starts at the base of my spine before curling up my back with a flash of heat. I look to Cillian who mimes taking a sip of a glass of pink-tinged liquid before setting the still full glass on the mantelpiece behind him.
As my attention returns to Logan’s fierce gaze, still trained intently on my face, I realize that I may have just made a terrible mistake.
Chapter Twenty-One
CILLIAN
The pink tinge in my untouched drink darkens with each passing minute. The blush spreads through the amber liquid like blood in water, mesmerizing and alarming at once.
I can only imagine what the amount Maya consumed is doing to her mind.
I watch her from my position against the wall, tracking the subtle changes in her demeanor as the drug takes hold.
First comes the laughter—too loud, too free for the stuffy environment of Logan’s card game. Her head tilts back as she sits on Logan’s lap, purple hair cascading over his shoulder as she giggles at something entirely unfunny. The Western Alphas exchange knowing glances, pleased their entertainment is taking effect.
When the bearded Alpha refills her glass, adding another generous sprinkle of blush without asking, I step forward.
“I think she’s had enough,” I murmur, reaching for Maya’s glass.
Her eyes find mine, pupils dilated to black pools with just a thin rim of color remaining. “Cillian,” she slurs my name, drawing it out like taffy. “Always so serious.” She pulls the glass away from my reaching fingers, cradling it protectively against her chest. “Get your own.”
I glance at Logan who only raises an eyebrow, obviously not planning to intervene. “I’ve had more than enough and so have you.”
“I’m perfectly fine,” Maya insists, though her words blur together. “Better than fine. Everything feels...wonderful.” She trails her fingers along Logan’s jaw, a gesture that would normally never happen willingly in private, much less in front of witnesses.
“Maya…”
“Enough, Cillian.” Logan catches my eye over Maya’s head. The warning in his gaze is unmistakable. Back the fuck off. His smirk tells me everything I need to know. He’s enjoying this, watching Maya’s carefully constructed walls crumble under the influence of blush. “Another round, gentlemen?” Logan signals to a servant while Maya’s head lolls against his shoulder and her eyes close.
I try again, stepping closer. “Your Highness, perhaps we should return to our quarters. It’s getting late.”
“We’re just getting started,” the youngest Alpha protests. “Your Omega is delightful company.” His gaze lingers on Maya’s flushed face and neck, traveling lower with undisguised interest.
Something fierce and protective surges through me. Through our bond, I sense Maya’s growing disorientation, the room spinning in her perception. Beneath the artificial euphoria, there’s a thread of panic that will eventually surface when she realizes she’s losing control.
I move decisively, reaching for her glass. “Maya, you need water.”
Logan’s hand shoots out, gripping my wrist with bruising force. “I believe my mate is enjoying herself, Cillian.” His voice is pleasant, but his eyes are cold. He smooths a few strands of hair out of her eyes. and tucks them behind her ear. “Aren’t you, sweetheart?”
