Page 94 of Bonds of Pain
I fully expect him to deny her, even firmly push the preening countess away when she touches his arm.
But something shifts in Poe’s demeanor. His shoulders curl inward almost imperceptibly, his confident stance faltering. The predatory assassin who killed without hesitation now looks like a cornered animal.
“The past is the past, Countess Vivienne,” he responds, voice carefully neutral.
“Surely you can spare an evening?” Her fingers trail up his arm. “For old times’ sake?”
I expect Poe to remove her hand, to assert the boundary she’s clearly violating. Instead, he remains frozen, eyes fixed somewhere beyond her shoulder.
The realization hits me: this is the same man who slashed a guard’s throat without blinking, yet he can’t bring himself to reject this woman who clearly abused him in his youth. Before me stands not the dangerous Alpha, but the defenseless boy he once was.
Then anger rises on a blistering tide. These men believe they get to make decisions for me, control my body and life, but the Alpha in front of me is defenseless against an Omega old enough to be his grandmother.
The unfairness burns, my anger not necessarily reserved only for Poe, but the entire circumstance that this system has set into motion.
No matter how nicely he might treat me now, I haven’t forgotten how this started. And the only way to make him truly understand the way he hurt me—and allowed me to be hurt—is to show him.
And I will.
Chapter Twenty-Three
ARES
Isquare up against Logan in the training field, feeling the satisfying weight of the practice sword in my hand. The packed dirt beneath our feet bears evidence of earlier matches—droplets of sweat, scuff marks, and even a few specks of blood.
Our training has attracted a small crowd, hangers-on and off-duty guards who are likely placing bets on the outcome of any potential challenges. The arena is already sold out and the games will be broadcast on every holovid unit. Most of the kingdom will view the games live. There hasn’t been a more anticipated spectacle in years.
It’s important that I put my all into this training so no one has room to doubt that Logan will win against any of his brothers that dare to challenge his claim to the throne.
Logan circles me with predatory grace, golden eyes tracking my movements. His white uniform is already sweat-stained, clinging to his muscled frame. The training fields are busy withsoldiers preparing for the upcoming games, but they’ve given us a wide berth.
“You’re favoring your right side,” I call out, twirling my blade. “Still sore from yesterday’s bout?”
Logan’s mouth twitches. “Just giving you a fighting chance.”
We explode into motion simultaneously. Our blades clash with a metallic ring that vibrates up my arm. I use my superior strength to push him back, but Logan ducks under my next swing and sweeps my legs. I roll away just before his blade strikes the ground where I’d been.
“Getting slow, Ares?” Logan taunts, breathing hard.
I respond with a flurry of strikes that force him onto the defensive. For a moment, our eyes lock over crossed blades.
Movement on the edge of the training field catches my attention.
Maya’s long violet hair and the skirt of her dark green dress billow in the breeze, like some kind of ethereal vision of a forest sprite. The sight of her hits me harder than any of Logan’s strikes. Sunlight catches on the silver pendant at her throat—his mark on her—and something primal twists in my chest.
My attention wavers for a crucial half-second.
I hit the training mat hard, my shoulder taking most of the impact as Logan’s armlock forces me to tap out. Sweat drips into my eyes, blurring my vision as Logan releases my arm with a disgusted grunt.
“What the hell was that?” Logan stands over me, his golden eyes narrowed in annoyance. “You left yourself completely open.”
“Just a slip.” I roll my shoulder, working out the tension. “Won’t happen again.”
“It better not.” Logan extends his hand, pulling me to my feet with more force than necessary. “The royal games are only a fewdays away. I need you focused. Unless you’re hoping to see me finished off.”
“Of course not.” I let him help me up, but my attention returns to Maya. A vaguely familiar figure is rapidly approaching where she sits with Poe in the stands. Poe might be alert to traditional threats, but there’s a more insidious type he won’t see coming. “Let’s take a break. I just need a minute.”
Scoffing, Logan waves me away and gestures for a nearby guard to join him on the field.
