Page 19 of Bonds of Pain
But even the thought of food isn’t enough to stop me from hesitating at the corner when I overhear raised voices.
“—still can’t believe you claimed her without discussing it with us first.” Poe’s voice, unmistakable in its controlled frustration. “This isn’t some temporary arrangement, Logan. We’re stuck with an Omega, now. Forever.”
I freeze, my hand on the doorframe. My body presses against the door as I lean closer, so I remain undetected.
“What’s done is done.” Logan’s dismissive tone makes my blood boil. “Maya is perfect for palace life. My father is pleased. That’s what matters.”
“Is it?” Poe challenges. “We’ve operated as a unit for years. Decisions affecting the pack were always made together.”
“I’m still the pack Alpha and the prince. Maya signed a contract with me,” Logan snaps. “Last I checked that means I don’t need permission.”
A chair scrapes against the floor. Heavy footsteps pace the room.
“Come on, Poe.” Ares’s voice now, playful in a way that makes my stomach drop. He sounds like he doesn’t have a care or concern in the world. “Look at the bright side. We’ve got ourselves a pretty little Omega to play with permanently.”
My stomach turns. I clench my fists so tight my nails dig into my palms.
“That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” Poe says. “You’re thinking with your knot instead of your brain. Maya still has secrets we don’t know the answers to.”
“She has a sweet ass too,” Ares laughs. “When do I get my turn, by the way? I’m calling dibs on her next heat cycle.”
“You’ll get what I let you have,” Logan says, voice light despite a note of warning. “And you’ll thank me for it.”
Neither of the other two argue that particular point.
I bite my lip hard enough to taste blood. The casual way they’re discussing me, like I’m property to be passed around. Their reaction is somehow even worse than I imagined it would be.
I close my eyes, letting the rage wash through me. Any hope I foolishly had of finding an ally among Logan’s pack members evaporates. Poe’s concerns aren’t about my wellbeing but aboutpack hierarchy and politics. Ares sees me as nothing more than a body to satisfy his urges. And Logan—Logan is exactly who I thought he was. A monster wearing the face of a prince.
I take a deep breath, arrange my features into a neutral expression, and step into the dining room.
I sweep into the room with my head held high, channeling every lesson from the Enclave about proper Omega posture. Shoulders back, chin up, small steps. I might be a prisoner in this palace, but I refuse to look like one.
Three sets of eyes snap to me the moment I cross the threshold. The conversation dies instantly.
Logan’s golden gaze locks onto me first, his expression shifting from irritation to something possessive. Poe’s dark, watchful eyes narrow slightly, assessing me like I’m a puzzle he can’t quite solve. And Ares, his bright green eyes light up with interest that makes me want to punch him in his perpetually hard dick.
I falter slightly under their collective scrutiny but force myself to keep moving toward the empty chair at the table.
Before I can reach it, Ares jumps to his feet with surprising agility for someone his size. He moves to my chair with exaggerated gallantry, pulling it out with a flourish.
“Allow me,” he purrs, his gaze traveling down my body in open appraisal.
Logan’s growl cuts through the room, low and threatening. The sound vibrates in my chest through our unwanted bond, and I feel his spike of possessiveness as if the emotion is my own.
Ares doesn’t so much as flinch. Instead, he flashes Logan a cheeky grin that shows too many teeth to be submissive. “Just being hospitable to our new packmate,” he says, eyes never leaving mine.
I recognize the power play happening here. Logan’s territorial instincts versus Ares testing boundaries. I’m just the ball they’re kicking between them.
And any division in their ranks is an opportunity for me to undermine this damn pack until it ceases to exist.
I smile at Ares with practiced Omega sweetness. “Thank you for your consideration,” I say gracefully, sliding into the seat he holds. “It’s nice to know that chivalry isn’t entirely dead here in the palace.”
I settle into the chair, but Ares doesn’t step away. His large hands rest on my shoulders, heavy and warm through the thin fabric of my dress. I feel his thumbs trace small circles at the base of my neck, a touch that’s simultaneously casual and deliberately intimate.
Logan’s jaw tightens. His golden eyes track every movement of Ares’s fingers, nostrils flaring slightly as he scents the air. The bond between us pulses with his growing irritation, a hot, prickly sensation that feels foreign inside my chest.
“Comfortable, little Omega?” Ares murmurs above me, his voice pitched low enough that only I can hear clearly.
