Page 4 of Bonds of Pain
“This violates every tradition?—“
“You’ve been trying to chase her away from the beginning,” I cut him off, my voice dropping to a dangerous pitch. “You made your feelings about her perfectly clear. So why do you suddenly care who bonds her first?”
Poe’s jaw works silently for a moment. “This isn’t about her specifically. It’s about what this means for the pack structure. There should have been a discussion.”
“The pack structure is exactly as it should be.” I step forward, forcing him either to move out of the way or turn this interaction into an actual challenge. “I am your prince and your pack Alpha. My word is law.”
For a moment, Poe doesn’t move. His attention moves from my face and back to Maya’s, and he stares at her with an intensity that makes my grip tighten instinctively.
“She won’t accept this,” he says finally, echoing Cillian’s earlier prediction.
“That’s not your concern.”
“It is if it destabilizes everything we’ve built.” Poe’s gaze shifts to Cillian again. “A beta should never be allowed to bond before Alphas.”
“What’s done is done,” I growl, patience completely gone. “Move. Now.”
The air between us crackles with tension. For the space of a single heartbeat, I wonder if Poe is actually going to challenge me—here, now, with Maya unconscious in my arms. His body language shifts subtly, weight balanced on the balls of his feet, hands uncurling at his sides.
Maya makes a small sound in her sleep, turning her face into my chest. The movement breaks the tension of our standoff.
Poe eventually steps aside, but his eyes never leave mine. “Your wish is my command, Prince Logan.”
“We’ll discuss the details later,” I offer as I shift past him, hoping that will be enough to soothe his ruffled feathers. Poe has never been good with surprises, but he’ll eventually fall in line like he always has. “I know this comes as a shock, but I promise you I know what I’m doing.”
Poe responds only with the barest nod, a frown still twisting his lips. I continue down the hallway, the force of his gaze practically boring into my back. Cillian follows silently behind me, his footsteps barely audible on the thick carpet.
The silence lasts until we’re well out of Poe’s earshot.
“He’s right about one thing,” Cillian mutters. “No one ever agreed to let you make unilateral decisions for this pack.”
“Except for you,Omega.”
That purred word is enough to straighten his spine and send a palpable shiver coursing through his body. Cillian can throw as many angry words at me as he likes, but we both know he won’t ever stand against me.
He can’t.
But the moment I shove open the doors of my suite, Cillian brushes past me and stalks away before I can order him to stay. I let him go and the distant slam of a door is the reward for my restraint.
I lay Maya gently on my bed, arranging her limbs in what I hope is a comfortable position. Her hair fans out across my pillow, a splash of vibrant purple against the white linen. In sleep, her face has lost that guarded expression she always wears around me—the one that makes me feel like she’s constantly calculating escape routes.
She looks peaceful. Content, even. As if this is exactly where she is meant to be.
This is how it should have been from the beginning. Maya in my bed, wearing my mark. Our scents intermingled in a way that announces to everyone that she belongs to me.
To us, I correct myself. To Cillian and me.
And I won’t give either of them a choice about falling in line.
I trace the curve of her cheek with my fingertip, marveling at the softness of her skin. The bond thrums between us, new and fragile but undeniably present. I can feel her emotions as distantechoes—confusion, mostly, and a strange sort of weightlessness that must be a lingering effect of the drug she took.
The suite remains eerily quiet. Cillian has retreated to sulk and overthink everything, as per usual. He’ll come around, eventually. He always does.
And Poe? Poe’s disapproval is irrelevant. He has always reacted too strongly to any perceived threat to our pack. I’ll give him unfettered access to our Omega, which should be more than enough to settle his ruffled feathers.
A flicker of doubt tries to surface, but I push it down ruthlessly. Doubt is for lesser men. Men who don’t have kingdoms to protect and legacies to secure.
Maya will understand. Eventually. She has to.
