Page 84 of Bonds of Pain
Maya blinks slowly, her gaze unfocused. She giggles again, the sound hollow and wrong. “Everything’s so light…I mean, bright.”
The bearded Alpha leans forward, adding yet more blush to her drink. “The first time is always intense. Another sip will smooth the edges.”
I pull against Logan’s grip. “She’s had too much already.”
“This is what she wanted, remember? Better she learns now than later.” Logan releases me with a shove that nearly sends me stumbling. “Know your place,” he says quietly, for my ears alone. Then louder, to everyone else in the room: “Pack betas are always the most overprotective. Pay him no mind.”
Maya’s gaze flits from one of us to the other. A flicker of lucidity flashes briefly in her gaze, but it’s quickly lost to a sea of intoxication as she raises her glass.
“To overprotectivebetas,” she laughs, her words slurring together enough that hopefully no one notices the sarcastic emphasis she placed on the last word. She drains the glass in one long swallow while Logan watches with that same calculating smirk.
Through our bond, I feel her consciousness growing foggy, thoughts scattering like leaves in a storm as I retake my place behind him. Her empty glass drops to the table hard enough to tip over completely, the last few drops staining the felt tabletop. She melts against Logan’s chest with a soft sigh, practically on the verge of passing out entirely.
Logan strokes her hair possessively, meeting my gaze with triumph in his golden eyes, as he picks up his cards and gestures for the next round to begin.
“Look at her purring like a kitten,” the gray-haired Alpha with a beard reaching his chest chuckles, gesturing toward Maya with his glass. “You’ve got yourself a sweet one there, Prince Logan.”
I clench my jaw, watching as Maya nuzzles against Logan’s neck, placing delicate kisses along his jawline. Her eyes are unfocused, pupils dilated to black pools. This isn’t Maya—not the sharp-tongued, defiant woman who’d sooner spit in Logan’s face than cuddle him voluntarily. The blush has transformed her into someone else entirely.
Someone who is going to sober up and hate us even more for allowing this to happen.
“She’s quite affectionate when she wants to be,” Logan replies smoothly, running his fingers through her purple hair while meeting my gaze across the room. His expression is smug, triumphant.
What unsettles me most isn’t Maya’s behavior—it’s Logan’s. He doesn’t seem remotely bothered by the way the Western Alphas are devouring her with their eyes. Normally, he’d be snarling at anyone who looked at her for too long, yet now he’s practically displaying her like a trophy.
He’s making a point. Showcasing what he possesses that they don’t.
I shift uncomfortably against the wall, trying to understand why Logan is doing this. These aren’t just any Alphas, they’re representatives from the Western Provinces, where Omegas are reportedly even more scarce than in the capital. And Logan is deliberately letting them covet what belongs to him.
I can’t fight the feeling that I’m missing something obvious. Logan is behaving like an ass. That’s nothing new, but hisbehavior now feels very deliberate. Like he is putting on a show or trying to prove some kind of point.
That Logan has been engaging in hours-long, closed-door meetings with the king doesn’t ease my suspicions. He has refused to share any details with the rest of us, returning with a distant look in his eyes, and the only emotion slipping through our bond is a dark determination.
Something has changed in him since the king made him heir to the throne.
“In my province, we haven’t had a single Omega birth registered in over a year,” the youngest Alpha says, leaning forward. His gaze lingers on Maya’s exposed neck as she tilts her head back, giggling at something Logan whispers in her ear. “We’ve had to get creative with our bloodlines, allow our lordlings to marry betas for the first time in a hundred years.”
“The king has promised the shortage will be addressed,” Logan responds cryptically. “Rest assured he is absolutely devoted to the cause.”
The conversation continues and Maya becomes increasingly tactile, her movements loose and uninhibited. Through our bond, I feel her consciousness drifting further away, replaced by artificial this calm.
“Perhaps we should raise the stakes,” the young Alpha suddenly suggests, his eyes never leaving Maya. “Maybe add your Omega to the pot for the next hand?”
The room falls silent. Even from my position against the wall, I can feel the temperature drop. Logan’s expression doesn’t change, but something dangerous flickers in his golden eyes.
With deliberate slowness, Logan lifts Maya from his lap and stands.
“Cillian,” he calls, voice deceptively calm. “Take her for a second.”
I cross the room quickly, gathering Maya’s pliant form into my arms. She feels too light, her head buried against the side of my neck, even as she tightens her legs around my waist and clings like a monkey.
With deceptive calm and measured steps, Logan crosses the room.
“Customs differ here in the capital, I admit. But allow me to educate you on the particulars.”
The look of surprise on the young Alpha’s face lasts only as long as it takes for Logan’s fist to close the distance between them.
A collective wince moves through the watching men at the sound of crunching bone, but none of them make a move to defend their companion.
