Page 81 of Bonds of Pain
His eyes search mine, unconvinced. “Maya, whatever you’re not telling me?—“
“It’s nothing.” I cut him off. “Just trust me on this.”
Cillian’s expression hardens. “The last person who said “just trust me” was Logan, and we all know how that turned out.”
The words sting more than they should. “Fine, you don’t have to trust me. But I’m still going tomorrow.”
“Fine.” His expression shuts down as he repeats the word in the same tone I used. “We should probably find Logan before Thane corners you again.”
He turns on his heel, not bothering to check if I’m following him. The weight of secrets and fear settles like a weight in my stomach. But when I fall into step beside him, Cillian’s comes to rest above the bend of my elbow as if on instinct. At his touch, my anxiety doesn’t completely fall away but does feel immediately muted. I decide not to question that response, even though it’s unsettling.
Thane wants something—from me, from Cillian, maybe from all of us. And I’m walking straight back into his hands.
But if the choice is between facing my own nightmare for an hour or watching Cillian’s world collapse around him, I know which one I have to choose.
I tell myself it’s because the bond won’t allow me to betray him.
Because that’s what I desperately need to believe.
We find Logan in a smoke-filled room just off the main ballroom. The heavy scent of cigars and hard liquor surrounds me as we enter, along with the raucous laughter of men. Aside from the prince, five Alphas sit around a green felt table, cards and chips scattered between them. Logan’s golden eyes light up when he spots me.
“There she is.” Logan beckons me over with an eager wave. “My good luck charm.”
Cillian’s hand subtly falls away as I approach the table. The loss of his warmth is like blowing out a candle held close to my skin, leaving a startling cold in its wake.
Before I can protest, Logan pulls me onto his lap. His arm circles my waist possessively, and I fight the instinct to squirm away as he nuzzles my neck. The other men at the table watch with undisguised interest, their eyes tracking my every movement.
“Gentlemen, this is Maya—my mate.” Logan’s chest puffs with pride. “Maya, these are representatives from the Western Provinces here for my coronation.”
Five pairs of hungry eyes assess me like I’m a prize mare at auction. One man with a salt-and-pepper beard leans forward, inhaling deeply.
“Strawberries and champagne,” he murmurs. “Exquisite.”
My skin crawls at his casual scenting of me. Another Alpha, younger with calculating eyes, tilts his head.
“Is it true what they say? That Omegas in the capital can read and write?”
“The Enclave provides necessary education in all areas. Maya is quite the novelty for her own sake, but basic literacy should be assumed for any Omegas you encounter here” Logan laughs, his hand tightening around my waist. Turning to me, he explains.“In other provinces, formally educating Omegas is considered a waste of resources.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from responding. There are Omegas who can’t read? The thought bothers me almost as much as the way these men talk about me as if I’m not sitting right here—as if I’m some exotic pet Logan has acquired for showing.
“You must forgive their curiosity,” Logan says, his lips brushing my ear. “Omegas are quite rare in much of the provinces. Most are kept away from society by their families for their own safety, even once they’re mated.”
“How unfortunate for them,” I reply, my voice honey-sweet despite the venom beneath. “And here I am, capable of both speech and thought. I must seem positively magical.”
The men laugh, clearly believing I’m making a self-deprecating joke rather than mocking them. Logan pinches my side in warning, but his smile never falters.
“That hair is spectacular. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”
One of them murmurs softly to the other, too low to be audible. But from the way his gaze lingers on the high slit of my sheath dress, I can only assume his comments have something to do with whether the drapes match the carpet.
Assholes.
“I’m not sure if I should be flattered or concerned that you find me so interesting,” I tell the men, keeping my tone light while meeting each gaze directly. “But I assure you, I’m just a person.”
“A very special person,” Logan corrects, his fingers digging into my hip.
“She has spirit,” says the bearded Alpha approvingly. “That makes the taming all the more satisfying.”
