Page 85 of Bonds of Pain
When the younger Alpha’s chair goes crashing to the ground and Logan follows him down, fists bloodied and a feral snarl on his face, the others shift in their seats but still make no move to intervene. The smell of blood is enough to overwhelm even Maya’s scent despite the bare curve of her shoulder tantalizingly close to my nose as she burrows closer.
Logan might not be in a full rage, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t about to beat a man to death over an errant comment.
I edge backward, Maya’s weight in my arms pulling me slightly off-balance. Her head shifts against my shoulder, purple hair spilling across my chest as she mumbles something unintelligible. The sound of fists connecting with flesh continues behind me, punctuated by grunts and the occasional crash of furniture.
The Western Alphas remain seated, watching with expressions ranging from shock to grim satisfaction. Not one moves to help their companion. Their inaction tells me everything I need to know about the power dynamics at play—and what Logan’s true purpose was in behaving this way with Maya tonight.
He used her, and the other Omegas like her in the palace, as a lure. And as a warning when the invisible line in the sand is inevitably crossed.
Through our bond, I feel Maya’s consciousness floating in a chemically induced haze. She’s completely vulnerable, unaware of the violence unfolding mere feet away. I need to get her out of here before that changes. When Logan straddles the fallen Alpha and continues his assault on his unmoving form, I make a decision.
I’m going to get her the fuck out of here, Logan be damned.
I let out a small sigh of relief when the door closes behind us and no one follows. If anyone we pass in the ballroom finds it strange to see me carrying Maya like a ragdoll, their comments are made out of my earshot, lucky for them. The chaotic energy rises like a noonday sun in my gut and is desperate for an outlet.
Maya’s gentle snore vibrates against my skin where her face presses against my chest. I gather her closer with one arm so I can use the other to shove open the ballroom door and make our escape into the darkened hallway.
I have to admit to myself that I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing. Logan is going to be pissed when he realizes that I spirited Maya away, but I can’t bring myself to worry about his reaction, not when he seems so willing to traumatize our Omega.
Mine right now,the insidious voice in my head whispers.
This protective instinct I feel is just a result of the bond. I know that it isn’t real. But acknowledging that doesn’t stop me from feeling a desperate desire to put as many locked doors as I can manage between Maya and those covetous Alphas.
Then I stumble on a fold in the rug and the movement is enough to startle her awake.
Maya responds letting out a soft moan and licking a wide stripe across the sensitive gland in my neck.
My knees buckle hard enough that I almost crash both of us into the wall before catching myself. “Fuck!”
“Cillian,” she groans. Her hips shift so she can grind against the taut muscles of my abs and I feel the blazing heat of her. “I need you.”
It’s the bond and the blush, I remind myself. She doesn’t really mean it. The drug lowers her inhibitions, and the bond’s whisper becomes a scream when your mind isn’t your own. I know that from personal experience.
I force myself to put one foot in front of the other, struggling with every step not to think about the woman in my arms. Everything about her is intoxicating, her breath hot against my neck as she presses wet kisses along my jawline. The blush has stripped away her usual defenses, leaving only raw desire in its wake.
“Please, Cillian,” she moans, her fingers fumbling with the buttons of my shirt. “Touch me.”
“You’re drugged,” I manage, trying to keep my voice steady while navigating the hallway to my room. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“I know exactly what I’m saying.” Her teeth graze my earlobe, sending a shiver down my spine. “I’ve wanted you since my heat. So much.”
The bond between us pulses with her desire, making it nearly impossible to separate her feelings from the drug’s effects. She might believe what she’s saying in this moment, but that won’t be the case when she wakes up in the morning and she turns to me with burning anger in her eyes. I grit my teeth and push through Logan’s room and to the door of my closet, kicking it closed behind me, determined to get her safely to bed where she can sleep off the blush.
“You’ll hate yourself in the morning,” I tell her, as much to convince myself as her. “And you’ll hate me even more.”
Maya laughs, the sound both musical and dangerous. “I could never hate you. We’re the same, you and I. Logan’s prisoners.”
I set her down on the bed, but she clings to my neck, refusing to let go. Her pupils are still blown wide, the scent of strawberries and champagne so intense that I can practically taste her on the air.
“I need to get you water,” I say firmly, trying to disentangle myself.
With surprising strength, Maya shimmies out of my arms and shoves me backward. My back hits the wall with a thud as she follows, pressing her body against mine.
“You belong to me,” she tells me, her voice husky and commanding in a way I’ve never heard before. Before I can respond, she sinks to her knees in front of me, looking up with an expression that’s both innocent and predatory.
“Maya, don’t—“ My protest dies in my throat as her fingers work at my belt buckle.
“I know you want this,” she whispers. “I can feel it.”
