Page 98 of Bonds of Pain
“You can wait here if you want,” I tell her, moving toward the bathroom. “I won’t be long.”
I pause at the doorway, looking back. Maya hasn’t moved from her spot on the bed, her fingers absently stroking the nest beside her.
“Unless you’d rather join me?” I add with a wink.
She rolls her eyes, but there’s a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Go shower, Ares.”
I feel oddly gratified that she doesn’t leave, that she is choosing to stay in my space when she doesn’t have to. As I close the bathroom door, I wonder if maybe, just maybe, she’s starting to see me as more than just another Alpha in Logan’s pack.
I take the quickest shower of my life, barely rinsing the soap from my body before toweling off in record time. The idea of Maya waiting in my room has me moving with uncharacteristic urgency. When I push open the bathroom door, still securing atowel around my waist, I catch Maya setting my tablet down on the desk with a startled jerk.
Her eyes widen when she sees me, and her hand flies away from the tablet like it’s suddenly turned hot.
“Find anything interesting?” I ask, keeping my tone casual despite the suspicion prickling at the back of my neck.
“Just browsing,” she says with a small laugh that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “After meeting that reporter today, I realized I should probably think about what I’m wearing to the royal games. Everything I do will be scrutinized now that Logan’s being named heir.”
I cross to my dresser, watching her in the mirror as I pull out clean clothes. Her fingers fidget with the edge of her sleeve, and she’s standing a little too straight, like she’s consciously trying to appear relaxed.
“Smart thinking,” I say, playing along. “The press can be brutal. You’d be surprised what details they’ll decide to focus on.”
Maya nods, a bit too enthusiastically. “Exactly. I figured fashion magazines would be a good place to start. I have no idea what colors are in vogue right now.”
I pull on my pants under the towel, considering her explanation. It’s plausible enough—the royal games are a major event, and as Logan’s supposed mate, she’ll be under intense scrutiny. But something doesn’t quite add up.
“Find anything you liked?” I ask, turning to face her directly.
“Not really. Everything’s so... formal.” She wrinkles her nose. “I’m still getting used to all this royal protocol.”
“Well,” I say, pulling a shirt over my head, “I’m sure Logan can have something appropriate sent up for you. Or we could go shopping—might be nice to get out of the palace again.”
Her smile is faint. “I’d like that.”
I’ve spent my life reading people’s physical reactions, cataloging their tells when they’re afraid, aroused, or lying. I know exactly what Maya looks like when she’s turned on, when she’s angry, when she’s scared. But I realize with a jolt that I’ve overlooked something very important.
I have no idea what she looks like when she’s lying.
Chapter Twenty-Four
POE
My encrypted tablet buzzes with an incoming message. An anonymous message flashes on the screen alongside a simple text:
Meet me in the old queen’s quarters. Come alone.
I can only assume it’s from Ares, wanting to meet and discuss any updates to our private investigation about the fake heat suppressants we found at the farmhouse. It’s a little strange that he would want to meet in the old queen’s apartment, but I suppose it’s as good a place as any if we want privacy in the palace.
Perfect timing. I’ve just received the lab results of those seemingly innocuous yellow pills. They contain an element that the most advanced lab in the kingdom has literally never seen before. A designer compound that perfectly mimics the hormone responsible for an Omega’s heat. If we can identify the source of that, it would be the best lead possible. This could be the connection we’ve been looking for between the palace attack and the mystery of Maya’s drug-induced heat.
There is a twinge of guilt about not bringing Logan and Cillian into the loop on this. But the prince is already overwhelmed with his new duties, and I have nothing stronger than assumptions and a handful of yellow pills.
When I have something worth acting on, they’ll be the first to know.
I slide the tablet into my jacket pocket and make my way through the palace’s service corridors. Though the old queen’s apartments have been sealed since Queen Midale’s death, most of the guards still have access codes. That makes it a perfect place to meet for a clandestine conversation because we have plausible deniability if someone discovers the room has been accessed, but none of the regular guards would risk the king’s wrath by being caught in here.
I key in the sequence and slip inside, sealing the door closed behind me.
The air is stale, heavy with the lingering scent of the queen’s clove perfume. I’ve always hated coming here. Too many memories buried beneath the dust-covered furniture.
