Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
POE
W ell, fuck.
Logan’s moodiness might qualify as the first clinical case of male PMS, but anger is only one of a practical cornucopia of options. Ares wears superficial charm like a mask. The guy who laughs while the world burns down around him. Typical of a beta, Cillian navigates the Alpha posturing with the placid resolve of a true consigliere — always underfoot, but never in the way.
Though Cillian has been conspicuously absent from the Omega welcome proceedings tonight.
I get that I’m angry one, that I walk around with a perpetual storm cloud over my fucking head. I can’t help it. Most people make me feel like I’m going crazy.
My rage is a deep and dark well that I draw upon at will. Anger carries me through when there has been nothing else left of me.
But what I’m not is impulsive.
Like a god of wrath, my anger is a weapon I’ve honed to be sharper than a knife’s edge. It has never failed me .
Until now.
Maya doesn’t respond to anger. At least, not in any way that might be useful. I should have played our last interaction softer, tried lulling her into a false sense of security.
Intimidation might have been the absolute worst approach. She had been easy to scare away a year ago, but whatever happened between now and then clearly changed something.
This mix of confidence and desperation isn’t a combination I’ve ever seen in an Omega before. Clearly, I need to switch up my approach if I want to crack the mystery of her sudden reappearance.
Because I don’t believe a word she said about some fucking change of heart. That girl loathes Logan. I saw the hate burning in her eyes and in every muscle that twitched when he touched her.
Those same muscles currently coil in barely restrained violence as Logan lounges on his throne in the palace receiving hall. The room is nearly full, courtiers and lesser nobles practically oozing out of the woodwork as they wait for the princes’ new Omegas to be presented. This assemblage is calmer than it would be normally, with no open debauchery or violence in evidence.
The presence of unbonded Omegas is enough entertainment for now.
Thirteen thrones have been arranged in a circle around the room, one for Logan himself and another for each of his brothers that have reached their age of majority. The king is likely making a point with the seating arrangement, that all of them are in equal standing for the contest to become his heir .
King Leopold sits on a raised dais on the side of the room opposite the door. Fat and jolly, he is the perfect image of a benevolent ruler. But he hides the soul of a conqueror under the affable smile of a doting grandfather. Thirty-five years ago, Leopold led his army in a bloody conquest campaign against every other existing city-state on the continent to unite the country under his banner, but you would never know it to look at him.
Thirteen Omegas for the thirteen princes. An unlucky number made worse by the circumstances that necessitate it. The death of Prince Ander hasn’t been officially declared a murder, but the investigation could still go either way.
Most of the chosen Omegas have already arrived at the palace. Plus a handful more who accepted an invitation to become part of the harem, likely hoping they might unseat one of the chosen few for a position as royal mate.
But we’re still waiting for at least one more.
I stand just behind Logan, body stiff at attention despite the bruises covering most of my abdomen and a fresh stab wound to match the one that Maya gave me yesterday.
Logan had been…unhappy when I gave him my report after I found her at the rooming house.
He was already questioning me before I even walked all the way into our living quarters.
“Did she accept the money?”
I’d been forced to acknowledge that Maya had barely glanced at the bagfull of credits equal to a banker’s yearly salary. “She didn’t insist I take it back, though.”
Logan started pacing, practically wearing a path in the carpet as he traced the same pattern back and forth. “Why is she here? What the fuck does she want? Did you find out anything actually helpful?”
“Short of torture, I doubt we’ll get much out of her by asking questions.”
Glass exploded against the marble as Logan hurls his drink to the floor.
Ares had placidly handed Logan another snifter of bourbon. “You were gone for a while. Must have gotten something out of her.”
Logan stared at me, seconds from imploding. “What else?”
In hindsight, I made them work too hard to extract the information from me. It was probably obvious there was something I’d been hesitating to say.
“I know she wasn’t lying about being a virgin.”
Winged eyebrows flared high. Combined with his golden eyes, the expression made Logan look eerily like some bird of prey.
“How?” he asked, voice dangerous.
Ares had grabbed my hand before I could yank it away. He inhaled deeply enough to inflate his chest then released his breath in a low growl.
“Why do you smell like Omega pussy?” he demanded.
I’d showered twice, but slick is biologically designed to last. Maya almost certainly hated every second my fingers spent buried in her cunt, but that didn’t stop her body from responding.
She is pure Omega. A blessing or a curse, depending on your perspective.
I didn’t bother trying to lie. Logan earned my loyalty. It’s unwavering. Plus, he would have discovered the truth eventually.
Doesn’t mean I looked forward to what I knew was coming next.
I told them what happened, what I did, in as few words as I could manage. With each syllable, the scent of Alpha rage rose to fill the room until it was at choking intensity.
When I finished, Ares laughed before taking a large step back. “You dumb bastard.”
A splash of liquor hit my eyes first, temporarily blinding me. I wouldn’t have fought back regardless, but Logan always has to go overboard.
The beating was methodical, but fairly quick. Logan concentrated most of his hits on my chest and back, not hitting below the belt or bruising my face, which we might have had to explain later. For the most part, I got off lightly. He couldn’t have known Maya already stabbed me when he picked up a piece of the broken glass from his drink and stuck it in my belly.
Less than I probably deserved.
By the time I lay groaning on the floor, Logan had worked out the worst of his aggression.
He adjusted the cuffs of his shirt and flicked away a lock of hair that had fallen into his eyes, barely out of breath. “If she doesn’t show up because of what you did, you’re taking the hard fuck I have planned for her.”
Rape isn’t Logan’s preferred method of establishing dominance. For him to make the threat, I must have truly pissed him off.
“She will,” I bit out through the pain, hating that it was probably the truth.
Logan’s growl brings me back to the present, making me stiffen back into guard position beside him despite my aching ribs. Maybe he didn’t work out all of his aggression last night.
If Maya really doesn’t show up, I might not survive whatever he decides to me. I will happily take another beating if it means protecting him.
Logan wants her, whether or not he wants to admit it to himself. Even without considering the mystery of her whereabouts for the past year or her inexplicable interest in bonding after her previous rejection, Maya is dangerous. That’s true of all Omegas. They make us too vulnerable. Totally defenseless themselves, they create a weakness in us that can be exploited.
Most Alphas are smart enough to lock themselves away with their Omega during a heat cycle. The fugue state inspired by a rut, the Alpha’s uncontrollable sexual response to his bonded Omega in heat, makes it impossible to focus on anything else. More than one royal Alpha has been assassinated while knot deep in a mewling Omega.
Personally, I see no point in all the hassle. Betas can be impregnated if you try hard enough and some of them have even figured out how to take a knot without damage. Most importantly, fucking them won’t get you killed.
Part of me sincerely doubts that all thirteen princes will survive the coming weeks, which I suspect might be the king’s intent. Let the strong cull the weak and crown whoever is left standing.
If that’s the case, then it has to be Logan who gets the crown.
Every time an Omega reaches the doors, a hush falls over the crowd as they track her progress across the throne room to the prince who chose her. The Omegas might not realize it, but every movement they make is being catalogued, dissected for potential weaknesses that can be exploited.
My vision is still a little blurry from being burned by bourbon, but I can tell at a glance that the next Omega who walks through the door isn’t Maya.
Logan is outwardly calm, but tension runs through him.
Ares leans over Logan’s throne to whisper in his ear, but the man has no inside voice, so I hear every word. “Do you want me to have one of the new harem Omegas prepared, just in case?”
Logan doesn’t reply, but gives him a look black enough that it is answer enough.
One surreptitious glance at the wall reveals how late it’s getting. The palace summons that went out this morning had a time limit attached to it. The Omegas might technically have a choice about whether to present themselves, but none of the princes are going to wait for one experiencing cold feet.
My gaze moves to King Leopold, only to find him watching us. A sardonic smile flashes behind his white beard before he returns his attention to the giggling Beta held in his lap.
With a sudden sense of dread, I realize I hadn’t fully thought through the consequences of scaring Maya away. If she doesn’t show up now, Logan will be humiliated in front of his father and worse, the rest of the court. Her rejection of him, for a second time now, will be taken as a sign of weakness.
Forcing his knot up my ass might be the least Logan will do to me.
I never should have told Maya about the tracker. She could be on her way here or a hundred miles out of the city on a one-way trip paid for with the money I gave her. No way for me to know. Now we’re stuck simply waiting to see if she answers the summons.
Next time, we’ll have to put a tracking device somewhere more permanent.
Fuck, will there even be a next time? I can’t decide if that would be a better or worse option. Logan might just kill me if she doesn’t show. But if I publicly take the blame in front of the court, then the show of my punishment might be enough to salvage his reputation.
But if she does come here, the entire court will see her brought to heel.
My first hint is the musicians. Their position on a raised platform at the center of the room gives them an unrestricted view of the palace doors. The music stutters to a stop, each instrument dropping out of the melody until the sound ceases altogether.
Silence reigns for only a moment before the whispers start, growing louder as murmured words pass from one courtier to another.
By the time the crowd parts and I see Maya, I’ve already figured out just how much I underestimated her.
For once, her purple hair isn’t the first thing that draws my attention.She wears a custom-fit dress that hugs every curve, somehow straddling the line between regal and raunchy. She practically shimmers, thousands of tiny crystals sewn into the fabric sparkling under the lights.
A dress like that must have cost a pretty penny. No need to guess where she got the money to pay for it.
Her violet hair is coiled on top of her head in an elaborate configuration, with delicate tendrils left out to twist down her back and frame her face.
Even I have to admit that the girl is a vision, probably the most striking of all the Omegas in the room. Which is really saying something considering they’re all biologically designed to call as much attention to themselves as possible.
Wanting to rip off that tease of a dress and fuck her through the floor in front of the entire court is also just a biological response.
Maya gives the entire room a brief once-over. When her gaze finds us, it stays there. She ignores everyone and everything else as she confidently strides across the room, head held high like it already bears a damn crown.
“Goddamn,” Ares mutters.
Maya sinks into a curtsy so perfect that it could appear in an Enclave training manual, which is probably where she learned it. One thing I’ll give her is that she plays the role of a royal Omega better than anyone else I’ve ever seen.
Custom dictates that a royal greeting doesn’t end until the prince instructs his subject to rise.
Logan leaves her in the deep curtsy for a beat longer than is appropriate before finally acknowledging her with the barest of nods.
If the position was a strain, Maya doesn’t let on. She rises gracefully, the fire burning in her dark eyes only for us to see. “I am humbled to accept your invitation to the palace, Prince Logan.”
Logan gestures for a nearby attendant. “You’ll be taken to the harem to be prepared for your new duties. Someone will explain what is expected of you.”
The obvious dismissal is deliberately insulting. Eavesdropping courtiers make no secret of watching the exchange. Logan is clearly establishing the hierarchy here and repaying her in kind for her rejection a year ago. Within the hour, the entire court will know that Prince Logan’s Omega is already out of his favor.
“Your wish is my command.” Maya curtsies again, but does not wait for the prince to release her before turning on her heel and stalking away.
A hundred pairs of eyes track her exit. If Maya realizes she has the attention of the entire room, she appears unbothered by it. If anything, she shines even brighter as she dramatically exits the proverbial stage, leaving behind an after image of twinkling diamonds and the scent of cherry vanilla on the air. Even the king appears to take note. He barely paid attention to the other Omegas paraded before him. But he watches Maya, an unreadable expression on his face, until she disappears from view.
So fucking dangerous.
Logan’s murmured words are barely audible as he also watches her go, fingers clenched tight enough on the arms of his chair that his knuckles turn white. “Remember, she can’t be trusted. No one touches her until I give the word.”
The warning is likely meant for himself as much as it is for us.
Ares makes a sound of protest, but one glance at Logan’s face kills whatever argument he might have made.
Even I feel a burst of annoyance at Logan’s pronouncement. I’d been hoping he would fuck Maya out of his system as soon as possible, then set her aside for a safer option.
The smell of her still wafts over me occasionally, giving me a visceral reminder of how it felt to have my fingers buried inside her. If she hadn’t been a virgin, I’m not sure I would have been able to resist the urge to fuck her up against the wall of that pathetic attic room.
That’s what Omegas do after all, use their natural allure and the potency of their scent to turn Alphas into their sexual slaves. Sure, Alphas have physical prowess on their side. But what use is brawn when you’ve lost control of your mind?
I’ll bury her six feet under before I let another Omega control me.