Page 6 of Bonds of Pain
Sweet strawberries and champagne. Maya’s unmistakable scent hangs in the air like invisible smoke. But there’s something else beneath it. Something different that lingers in my nostrils with an itching sensation that makes me want to sneeze.
The basement is a disaster. Workout equipment pushed aside, blankets strewn about, clothing discarded. The chaos of heat, amplified by whatever the hell happened down here between Logan and the Omega he conquered. But my eyes narrow as I take in the details others would miss.
Two distinct nests.
One is meticulously arranged despite the surrounding chaos. Blankets are folded with precision even in their disarray, pillows positioned strategically. The other is wild and chaotic, sheets bunched and twisted as if in desperation.
“Why would Maya build two nests?” I mutter to myself, crouching beside the neater arrangement.
I run my fingers over the fabric, detecting the faintest trace of that unidentifiable scent again. Not Logan’s bitter clove. Not Maya’s sweetness. Something else entirely—almost flowery, but cleaner. Simpler.
My gaze sweeps the room methodically, cataloging every detail. Empty water bottles, tipped on their sides and scattered as if they’d been thrown across the room in anger. A discarded shirt—Cillian’s, judging by the size. And there, scattered across the floor like fallen stars: small yellow pills.
I freeze.
Slowly, I reach into my pocket and extract the identical yellow pills I’d confiscated from the farm last night. The ones I’d meant to show Logan before I ran into him in the hallway and forgot every thought in my fucking head.
I hold one pill from the bag and another from the floor on the palm of each hand, comparing them. Color. Size. Shape. Identical in every visible way.
“Son of a bitch,” I breathe.
The black-market lab that Ares and I found had obviously been producing something new, not the standard heat suppressants or rut enhancers that usually circulate in the underground market.
Something dangerous, if the secrecy is any indication.
I gather the scattered pills carefully, placing them in a small evidence bag with the others. The coincidence is too much to ignore. Maya arrives here with no obvious connections and then goes into an unexpected heat after taking the same experimental drugs we seized after chasing the trail of the Alphas who attacked the palace only days before.
I should take this directly to Logan. That would be protocol.
But the image of him carrying Maya away, that possessive gleam in his eyes as he loudly proclaimed her his bonded mate despite all previous insistence it would never happen, stops me. Logan isn’t thinking clearly. And for the first time in years, I find myself questioning whether I can trust his judgment.
Cillian, the faithful lapdog, would follow Logan’s trail wherever it leads. Ares was more interested in getting back to the palace and hopefully under Maya’s skirt than helping me process the rest of the evidence at the farm.
Whatever these pills are, they’re connected to something greater than an unexpected bonding that Logan insisted wasn’t ever going to happen.
But for now, I need to handle any investigation of this on my own.
I resist the ridiculous urge to pop one in my mouth, just to see for myself what happens. Obviously, whatever this is doesn’t kill or cause permanent injury, assuming it’s something Maya has been taking. A desire for answers burns like a fire in my blood, urging me to recklessness.
But my natural curiosity isn’t that much greater than my sense of self-preservation.
I pocket the evidence bag and stand, decision made. I’ll have the pills analyzed independently first. Get facts before theories. Data before conclusions.
Trust is a luxury in the palace, but loyalty to Logan has always been my one constant. Now, that loyalty demands I understand what’s happening before I bring any wild theories to him. Because something isn’t right, and if Logan’s judgment is compromised, someone needs to maintain perspective.
I take one last look around the basement, committing every detail to memory. The two distinct nests bother me more than anything else. One built wildly and on instinct, the other evidence of an ordered mind and some degree of control.One Omega shouldn’t display two distinct nesting patterns, especially during the same heat.
As I climb the stairs, I’m already mentally cataloging the most discreet labs I can access without raising flags. Logan can have his honeymoon with his new mate. I’ll use the time to discover exactly what these pills are, who made them and how the fuck Maya ended up with them.
Because in this game, knowledge isn’t just power. It’s survival.
Chapter Three
MAYA
Logan actually has the nerve to act surprised when I wake up from my heat-induced exhaustion and immediately try to kill him.
His first mistake is cuddling up next to me in the bed, so I both woke up in an unfamiliar place and with the unexpected weight of an Alpha male pressing me down into the mattress. Those things alone would be enough to send me into fight-or-flight mode.
