Page 120 of Bonds of Pain
Logan’s expression hardens as he finishes my thought: “Our omega has played us all for fools.”
The words hang in the air between us, heavy with implication. I think about Maya’s bright laugh, the vulnerability she showed in my nest, how perfectly she fit against me. I remember her curiosity about the security system, her apparent interest in my console.
I should have seen it coming. We all should have.
“What now?” Poe asks, his voice carefully controlled, though I can see the hurt behind his mask of indifference.
Logan’s golden eyes are cold as winter as he stares at the paused image on the screen. “If she wants to play games so badly,” he says quietly, “we’ll show her exactly what prize she gets for winning.”
Chapter Thirty-One
MAYA
Ahandful of harem betas circle around me, adjusting the voluminous bonding dress as their excitement filling the preparation chamber with animated chatter. I stand perfectly still on the small platform, watching my reflection in the full-length mirror with detached curiosity.
The dress is a masterpiece of ivory silk and delicate lace, layers upon layers cascading from a fitted bodice adorned with thousands of tiny crystals. The neckline dips low enough to showcase the silver Corellian pendant at my throat and the fading bite marks beneath it.
It makes me look like a bedazzled cupcake.
“Just a few more pins, Your Highness,” murmurs an older beta as she adjusts the train. “We want everything perfect for the ceremony.”
Their collective enthusiasm is more infectious than I’d like it to be. This is a day that I dreamed about as a little girl, swept away to a life of luxury by devoted Alpha. I should have thought harder on the differences between devotion and obsession.These women have been working for weeks on my gown, and for them, this bonding ceremony represents the grandest spectacle in recent memory. The king set no budget constraints on my wardrobe—a fact that has the entire harem buzzing with excitement.
“It’s so romantic,” sighs a young beta as she arranges my purple hair into an elaborate updo. “A royal bonding under the full moon! The first in a generation!”
I don’t correct her misconception. Let them believe this is the beginning rather than a public performance confirming what’s already been done.
“Your bouquet will have white roses with purple orchids to match your hair,” another explains, showing me a sketch. “The ceremonial goblets are being polished with gold dust as we speak!”
They’ve been planning this spectacle while I’ve been plotting revenge. The irony isn’t lost on me.
“Your Highness?” A beta touches my arm gently. “Are you all right? You look pale.”
I force a smile. “Just nervous.”
The word ‘nervous’ doesn’t begin to encompass the storm of emotions churning inside me. After sending that video to Thane, I’ve been waiting for the fallout—for Logan to confront me, for the scandal to break, for my world to explode.
But nothing happened.
No obvious rage from Logan. No journalists clamoring at the palace gates. No whispers at court about the prince’s humiliation. Just business as usual, culminating in this elaborate charade of a bonding ceremony.
The door to the preparation chamber opens with a soft click, and I tense instinctively.
“Five minutes with the bride,” calls a familiar voice. “The Royal Observer has been granted an exclusive.”
Belinda Farrow strides in, looking impeccable in a tailored suit, a photographer trailing behind her. Her usual predatory confidence seems subdued, her movements careful and measured.
“Your Highness,” she greets me with a formal bow that feels jarringly out of character. “You look radiant.”
Something is wrong. The Belinda who ambushed me at the training grounds and prowled through the Spring Palace would never be this restrained, this careful. Her eyes don’t meet mine directly, skimming over my face as if afraid to look too closely.
“The dress is quite something,” she continues, her voice lacking its usual sharp edge. “May we get a few photos for the feature?”
I nod, watching her closely as she directs the photographer. Her questions are basic, superficial—how I feel about the ceremony, whether I’m excited about the traditions, if I’ve learned the proper protocols. Nothing probing, nothing controversial.
Nothing about the video.
“Will Prince Logan be joining us for any photos before the ceremony?” she asks carefully.
