Bonds of Hate

Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

MAYA

H ours later, I huddle in the entryway of Logan’s royal apartment, shivering in a thin robe. The double doors slam shut behind Cillian as he leaves me here, without another word.

Although I am happy to finally get away from him, the abruptness of his exit and the sudden quiet are more than a little unsettling.

“Hello?”

My voice echoes back at me off the high ceiling, sounding so forlorn that it makes me wince. Nobody answers, which I should have expected. Leaving me to my own devices on the first day is just another insult to heap on the pile. Pack Logan wants to make absolutely sure I know that my presence here is not a priority for them.

The apartment is massive. Cool air blows across my skin, making me shiver, and I wrap my arms around myself to ward off a sudden chill. I’ve never wanted a hug more than I do now and I’ve never been less likely to get one.

The thin robe I’d finally been allowed is little comfort against the humiliation I’d just experienced. Apparently, the harem has its own waxer on staff. Cillian had instructed the poor woman to remove every follicle of hair on my body below the eyebrows, save for enough to form a small purple heart between my thighs.

Trust Pack Logan to appreciate a landing strip.

Cillian had watched the entire affair from over her shoulder, his lips twitching every time I made a sound of pain.

The asshole.

I’m already kicking myself for assuming he would be the easy one, just because he’s a beta. If anything, he seems to make up for Alpha posturing with a more debonair strain of cruelty.

But I’m going to keep playing my role here, no matter what it takes.

I wander into the living room and trace my fingers along the smooth back of a leather sofa. The stiff fabric and my skin still aching from being waxed prevent me from feeling any temptation to sit down.

Every piece of furniture is expensive, all leather and carved wood, and feels about as welcoming as a museum display. Dark mahogany tables gleam under crystal chandeliers, while stiff-backed leather chairs sit pristinely arranged, practically begging me not to touch them. Even the ornate throw pillows on the couch look more like artwork than something meant for comfort.

Between the oppressive silence and the fact that I’m alone, I wonder if the prince even lives here himself. At any moment, I expect a wall to come down to reveal that I’m trapped in a dollhouse and on display for the masses.

The space is too large and I’m too alone in it. My gaze automatically moves to the shadowed corners behind overly large furniture, the many closed doors leading to mysterious spaces where danger could easily lurk.

The palace is supposed to keep me safe, but I’ve never felt like I was in more peril.

“This apartment is bigger than the entire rooming house.” The conversational words echo back at me, as I talk to myself in a bid to fight my rising hysteria. “I wonder if Logan has ever considered renting it out for parties.”

Giggle to myself, I know that I sound more than a little crazed. I’m probably talking to myself because I have officially lost my mind.

Being left here with no instructions is worse than being told to do something awful. If Cillian had ordered me to lay spread-eagle on the bed or kneel on all fours with a lamp on my back like I’m an end table, at least I’d have something to focus on.

Dark hardwood floors extend through the open concept dining and living area to a recessed nook where a massive L-shaped leather couch faces a fireplace big enough to roast an entire elephant. Above it hangs an abstract painting in shades of gold and crimson that is probably worth more than my recently paid off debt to the Enclave.

I shuffle further into the apartment. My bare feet leave clear impressions on the plush area rug. Several doors line the wide hallway and most of them are closed. One bedroom door stands ajar, revealing glimpses of an enormous bed draped in charcoal silk sheets. A faint scent emanates from the bed that I can sense, even from the doorway.

It’s more complex than I expect and not at all unpleasant. Sea salt and driftwood, like a place where the mountains meet the sea. I wonder which one of them the scent belongs to.

My cheeks burn at the thought that I’m probably going to find out soon enough. I spin away, turning my focus instead to the next open door.

It’s a bathroom large enough to make me gasp. To one side, there is a shower that could easily fit five people, with multiple heads protruding from black tile walls. A sunken tub roughly the size of a small ponddominates the center of the room before a massive window overlooking the palace gardens.

I can just make out the blurred shapes of carefully maintained topiaries and hedges.

“At least they had the decency to frost the glass,” I murmur to myself.

The last door at the far end of the hallway is just barely cracked, only a sliver of light visible through the narrow opening. I push it open, only to face a set of rickety stairs descending to a lower level. The steps end on a concrete floor and I can’t see anything beyond that without going down them.

The faint sound of music carries up the stairs, something with a thumping bass line that makes the ground under my feet shake. An alluring smell wafts up and into my nostrils, something darkly decadent but surprisingly sweet. Like a bourbon and chocolate-flavored cupcake with a sprinkling of bacon bits on top.

My stomach rumbles in anticipation at the thought. I haven’t eaten anything in almost twenty-four hours. For all of his comments about my inadequate body fat percentage, Cillian didn’t bother to offer me lunch.

I didn’t pass a kitchen while snooping through the apartment. Maybe that is what I’ll find down here, a cheerful chef bopping along to music as they offer me a freshly prepared dessert.

But what are the chances that anyone keeps their kitchen at the bottom of a rickety set of stairs?

Otherwise, it’s a literal horror movie scenario. I’ve never been one to sympathize with the dumb virgin in a slasher flick, but now I almost get it. The curiosity is overwhelming, even as every brain cell I have screams for me to shut the door and run back to the relative safety of the empty living room.

Where I’ll only have the oppressive silence for comfort.

I tug at the thin robe as I make my way down the stairs. The hem barely hits my mid-thigh and I’m not wearing anything underneath it. The soft cotton offers little warmth against the noticeable chill that comes over me as I get halfway down the stairs, meaning I have to be somewhere underground.

Or maybe it’s just nerves making me shiver.

The basement opens into a large room with bare concrete walls and rubber training mats scattered across the unfinished floor. Exercise equipment fills the space: weight racks, various machines, and a boxing area complete with hanging bags and a ring in the corner. The thumping music comes from speakers mounted high in each corner where the walls meet.

There isn’t so much as a cupcake in sight, but that isn’t even the worst realization.

Ares stands in the center of the room, his back partially facing me. He has his fists wrapped in white tape as he hammers at a heavy bag with precise strikes, each with enough force that it would send me flying across the room. Muscles ripple and tighten in his back with each hit, sweat glistening on his skin under the bright track lights. Cinnamon curls bounce against his forehead as he dances on his toes, moving with way more ease than a man his size should be capable of.

The music is loud enough to muffle the creak of my footsteps on the stairs. His body angles away so he won’t see me unless he turns to look behind him. The training bag has all of his focus as he pummels it, lip curling into an angry smirk as if he is imagining a specific person taking the beating he delivers.

If I just slowly back up the stairs, he’ll never have to know that I was down here without express permission. Then I can just go sit myself down on that uncomfortable couch in the living room and wait to be told what to do, like a good little lapdog.

But I foolishly let myself indulge in the sight of him for too long. His scent is what does it. Whiskey and chocolate momentarily rob me of the ability to think straight. I can’t stop the errant thought that the sweat dripping down his back probably tastes like burnt sugar.

A thread of unwilling desire stirs in my belly and I feel the first tiny drop of slick arousal run down my inner thigh.

Oh, no.

Nostrils flaring, Ares catches the bag mid-swing and spins around. His eyes are black with fury, body swelling in imminent threat, which makes him look no less intimidating than a raging bull seeing red. I instinctively hunch away to make myself look smaller.

“Champagne and cherries,” he breathes, his chest rising like a mountain as he deeply inhales. His green eyes glitter with triumph as he surveys my shivering form. “I’d recognize that scent anywhere.”

I back away as he stalks closer, tripping up the stairs until he wraps one dinner-plate sized hand around my ankle, encircling the entire thing and arresting my movement. I end up sprawled on my back a few feet from the bottom, the edge of a wooden step digging into my back and stopping me from cringing away as Ares looms over me.

“Well, well. Look who decided to do a little exploring,” he says, sounding more satisfied than angry. “What should we do with the little Omega who isn’t where she is supposed to be?”

The heat of his body burns through the fabric of my robe, like I’ve pressed myself up against a furnace. “I wasn’t told that I couldn’t explore.”

He makes a chiding sound in the back of his throat. “You also weren’t told that you could, darling.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do the wrong thing.”

“Apologies are a very good start.” He presses closer, resting more of his weight against me until my poor spine screams in protest. “But there really is only one way to correct bad behavior. Naughty Omegas get punished.”

His scent grows stronger as his face comes close enough to hover less than an inch away from mine. When he exhales, I have no choice but to breathe in the same air. It’s enough to make my head spin.

“Please, don’t…”

Just like Poe, I think with a sinking heart. Their effect on me hasn’t diminished with time. I hate that I can’t stop my body’s reaction to them any better than I could a year ago.

Even more, I hate that it’s only been a day and I’m already begging for mercy.

He nuzzles against the side of my neck. When his lips brush against the scent gland at the bend of my neck, a spark of electricity shoots down my spine. No Alpha has ever touched me there before.

And no one has ever been gentle

A single tear slides down the curve of my cheek. He licks it away with a satisfied growl.

“You taste even better than you smell. How is that possible?” His voice rumbles against my chest as pushes closer. “Logan says we can’t fuck you until he gives the word. That narrows my options a bit as far as punishments go.”

Any more weight and the wood edge poking my back might do actual damage. “Is paralyzing me from the waist down going to be punishment enough?”

“There’s that fire I was missing.”

His hand pushes under my back to cushion the base of my spine where it presses against the stair edge.

Relief is immediate. Until he yanks my lower body up with a jerk of his hand and forces his hips between the cradle of my thighs, pressing the bulge barely contained by his sweatpants against my shamelessly damp center.

He grinds against me hard enough that it borders on painful. From this angle, I can’t see any of him below the waist, but the hardness pressing into me feels impossibly large. My frantic mind is imagining something the general size and shape of a baseball bat.

I know the fear is making me exaggerate, but not by nearly enough.

“What to do with you? I honestly can’t decide.” His hand slides up to grip my throat, not hard enough to choke but with firm enough pressure that my anxiety ratchets up another notch. “I still think about how you looked with those pretty lips wrapped around Logan’s cock. I’ve jerked off to that memory at least a hundred times in the last year.”

I blink up at him, practically biting my tongue to avoid saying the wrong thing. I can’t decide if I should even try to beg him not to do it, when he might then agree just to settle on something worse.

His thumb brushes my lower lip without releasing his grip on my throat. “Maybe I should see how much of my knot you can take down your throat before my cum shoots out of your nose.”

The world spins on its axis as he yanks me up as easily as a ragdoll. I have a terrifying moment where I think that I’m going to puke all over him. That would definitely make the punishment he is planning even worse.

He sets me down more gently than I expect. My knees hit the ground, but he holds enough of my weight that it doesn’t hurt, only releasing me when I’m on the ground.

I squeeze my eyes shut, bracing myself as his hand slides to the back of my neck. My pulse hammers against his fingertips as the roughness of his palm settles in the mass of my hair and urges me forward.

“Open wide, princess. ”

My eyes squeeze shut as I hear the slide of fabric and feel the blast of heat radiating off his skin.

A loud rumble fills the silence between us. At first I think it’s him growling, but then I realize the sound is coming from my own traitorous stomach. Heat floods my cheeks as the embarrassing noise echoes through the quiet room.

The aggressive Alpha energy dissipates like a splash of cold water.

His grip on me loosens. “What was that?”

“Nothing.” I try to look away, but he cups my chin, forcing my head back untilI meet his gaze. Those intense green eyes bore into mine, making me feel exposed and vulnerable.

“When is the last time you ate?”

I shrug like it isn’t important enough to remember, though my heart races. If I let him know that I’m basically starving, he might decide to punish me by withholding my next meal. “I’m fine.”

His eyes narrow. “That wasn’t what I asked.”

There’s an edge to his voice that makes me shrink back instinctively.

“Yesterday morning.” I hate the way my voice trembles. My fingers twist nervously in my lap. “Before I came to the palace for my interview.”

His scent abruptly changes, any sweetness lost to the acrid stink of anger. I instinctively shrink away, but his grip tightens on my chin to prevent escape.

“Over twenty-four hours ago?” Ares releases me abruptly and steps back. Before I can even catch my breath, he scoops me up in his arms like I weigh nothing at all. “For fuck’s sake, why didn’t you say something?”

“I didn’t want...” The words trail off as he takes the stairs two at a time, carrying me back to the main level. The swiftness of his movements makes me feel lightheaded as my body bounces in his arms. I grip his muscled arm with one hand to steady my spinning head before I realize what I’m doing and snatch my hand away.

“Didn’t want what?” he prompts darkly, his tone brooking no argument about answering.

“To give you another way to punish me.” I curl slightly into myself, even as his arms tighten around me.

“Oh, you are definitely getting punished in the most creative way I can think of in about thirty minutes. But I’m going to fucking feed you first, at least.”

The edge of annoyance hasn’t left his voice, but it has morphed into something different. If he were anyone else, I might mistake it for concern.

He deposits me in one of the dining room chairs with surprising gentleness. The dark wood feels cool against my back, and I grip the edge of the seat to steady myself.

A pang of discomfort reminds me of my recent wax job and complete lack of underwear. I wonder how many times I flashed him in the basement without even realizing it.

Striding to a panel on the wall, he jabs at a button that must be the intercom. There is barely a crackle of static before he snarls into the speaker. “I need food sent up. Whatever Omegas typically eat. And lots of it.”

“I’m really not that hungry.” My stomach chooses that moment to punctuate my words with another gurgle, even louder this time.

“Sure you’re not, precious.” His expression softens slightly, that demon’s smirk morphing into something conspiratorial. He runs a hand through those cinnamon curls, looking suddenly rueful. “Just sit there and try not to pass out before the food arrives. Logan will have my ass if I let you die on my watch.”

I don’t ask whether he means that last bit figuratively or literally. Sexual dominance is practically coded into Alpha DNA. If they get angry enough, it’s inevitable they’ll turn on each other to reassert the pecking order.

I also don’t comment on Logan’s supposed interest in my well-being. Aside from his quick response to Cillian during our negotiation, I would argue that he doesn’t even seem to care that I’m here.

Ares drums his fingers on the table as the uncomfortable silence stretches between us while we wait for the food to arrive. Patience clearly isn’t his strong suit. Every few seconds, he casts an annoyed glance at the door as if it’s inconceivable that the palace kitchen isn’t able to prepare and present a feast in under ten minutes.

“I don’t want to keep you from finishing your workout.”

I regret breaking the silence when his head swings back in my direction. His eyes might be the color of spring grass, but the expression in them is crisp as a winter day.

“You’re not keeping me from anything.”

My hands clench in the fabric of my robe. The movement makes it slip partially off my shoulder, revealing a swathe of skin just above the curve of my chest.

Ares gaze flicks down for a moment before returning to my face.

“The quiet is nice.” I clear my throat. “But I was expecting the whole pack to be here when I arrived.”

He grunts. “Logan has meetings and Poe stayed with him while Cillian handled the contract. No idea where the beta ran off to now.”

“I hope there isn’t anything else I’m expected to do or not do. Since I’ve already screwed up once.”

I’m being deliberate about not asking him an actual question, even if one is implied. That was one of the first things they teach at the Enclave. The only thing Alphas hate more than being told what to do is being questioned. This might be the only chance I have to get some information about what they plan to do with me. If I can distract Ares for long enough that he decides not to shove his dick down my throat, all the better.

He leans back in his chair until the wood creaks in protest. “Small talk and some skin isn’t going to make me forget you have a punishment coming.”

I swallow hard, trying not to squirm under his predatory stare. If I claim not to have tried to manipulate him, he’ll know I’m lying.

“I don’t expect you to forget anything,” I say after a beat of hesitation. At least that’s technically the truth.

“That’s smart, baby girl. Logan already warned us you’re a master manipulator. Probably can’t help yourself coming out of the Enclave.” Ares studies me with too much interest, the keen assessment in his eyes unsettling. I get the sinking realization that I made a mistake in thinking that the biggest, burliest Alpha must also be the dumbest. “Speaking of, I can’t quite figure out the play myself. You still haven’t explained what brought you back after rejecting us once before and then letting an entire year go by before popping up again.”

I swallow hard enough to make an audible sound. During my interview, I’d promised to tell them what they wanted to know, which is not the same thing as telling the truth.

“I’ve never forgotten that day, either.” My eyes drop to my lap as a play at demureness. Hopefully, he’ll hear the kernel of truth in the words and not focus on any details.

He laughs, the sound derisive. “I know you don’t expect me to believe you came back here just for a good knot.”

I shrug, but my shoulders remain tense. Hopefully, the note of genuine anger in my voice will ring with enough truth to satisfy him. “Until yesterday, I was sleeping in a rat-infested rooming house and up to my eyeballs in debt. Why wouldn’t I want the chance to be a princess, safe in the palace?”

His eyebrows lift and I realize just how drastically I misspoke. “Safe from what?”

Before I can answer, the apartment doors swing open. A servant wheels in a cart laden with covered dishes, the smell of food making my mouth water instantly. My stomach growls again, loud enough that the servant’s lips twitch as she sets out the covered plates.

Ares waves the servant away before she can finish arranging everything. He tips the silver dome lid off each platter, surveying it with narrowed eyes as if he needs to catalogue it all before we take a single bite. The door clicks shut behind her, leaving us alone with enough food to feed ten people.

The meal is a hodgepodge of dishes. Breakfast food is mixed with heartier dishes, to the point that I’m overwhelmed by the choice.

“Eat this. You need protein. “ He lifts the cover off a plate of what looks like eggs and bacon. “We’ll finish our conversation after.”

As soon as the smell hits me, it feels like my belly chooses that moment to wrap itself around my spine.

My hands shake as I reach for the fork. I’m hungry enough that I worry eating too fast will make it all come back up again, despite a growing desire to dunk my face directly into a nearby tureen of broccoli cheddar soup. The first bite of food hits my tongue and I have to bite back a moan. The eggs are perfectly fluffy, seasoned with herbs and a hint of aged cheese.

It only takes about a minute to forget everything I’ve ever learned about proper table manners. Ares watches me with obvious amusement, occasionally taking a break from the scrutiny to have a small bite of something random. I realize he is keeping track of everything I reach for, cataloguing both my favorites and what I avoid. Every so often, he slides another dish closer, urging me to sample it so I don’t eat too much of any one thing.

“Potatoes are one of the healthiest starches. Try these. They’re seasoned with rosemary,” he suggests, pushing the golden-brown wedges toward me.

His eyes track each movement as I reach for them, making me feel like I’m being studied under a microscope. He watches my mouth as I take a bite, eyes narrowing when our gazes meet.

When my pace begins to lag, he straightens in his chair.

“Come here.” He pats the polished wood surface beside his seat. “Up on the table.”

Fear flashes through me. I should have known the reprieve would be as temporary as possible. Ares compels my compliance with the natural force of an ocean wave, gentle as a tide in one moment until a violent wave crashes over me.

I hesitate, clutching a soft dinner roll that I’d just slathered with butter. “Can I finish this first?”

“Bring it with you.” His tone brooks no argument. “Now.”

My legs feel unsteady as I rise and perch carefully on the table’s edge next to his chair, the fabric of my robe rustling against the smooth surface. The height difference puts me slightly above him for once.

“Good girl.” Large hands settle on my each of my knees. He barely uses any pressure, but I’m not strong enough to stop him from spreading my legs obscenely wide. “Now, about that punishment I promised you.”

His fingers slide to the tie of my robe. I’m expecting it when he flicks open the knotted bow at my waist and yanks the robe down off my shoulders hard enough that it sets the plates around me shaking.

Ares regards my naked body with a grim sort of satisfaction, like he is finally unwrapping the birthday present he waited all year to get. He gently traces the heart shape of my little remaining pubic hair, his grin widening when I instinctively jerk away.

“I always hoped that the upholstery matched the drapes. Plenty of girls can dye the hair on their head, but they never get this part to match just right. ”

My fingers clench in the crumpled fabric of my robe as I resist the urge to cover myself. I knew this was coming eventually, the appraisal that made me feel like a collection of body parts and biological urges instead of a person.

“I’m happy you’re pleased,” I grouse, not bothering to hide a note of sarcasm. What’s the difference if I’m already going to be punished?

Ares surprises me by laughing. “I’m about to be even happier.”

It takes me even more by surprise when he pushes his chair back and sinks to his knees in front of me.

I nearly choke on the bite of bread in my mouth. “What are you doing?”

“Having dessert.” The darkness in his voice is richer than even the most decadent dish on the table. “Do you think I’m going to find the sweet treat I’m looking for?”

I’m drenched, and he already knows it. This close, he can probably smell my slick even over the food. I’ve been wet since the moment he pressed me back against the stairs. I tell myself it’s an unconscious response to the close proximity of an Alpha in his prime.

He plucks at a nipple hard enough to bow my back. “Swallow that bite before you choke on it.”

This humiliation is as much of a punishment as hurting me physically. Maybe worse. If he put me over his knee and spanked me with a belt, at least I’d only have to endure pain. There isn’t any shame in feeling pain.

“Please don’t…”

“Already begging, that was easy. Don’t stop eating,” he reminds me firmly. “And if you drop even a single crumb on this floor, you’ll be cleaning it up with your tongue.”

I rip off another bite with my teeth bared, resisting the urge to spit it back in his face.

He settles back in a crouch, surveying my naked body with obvious pleasure. “Tell me why you’re being punished?”

I instinctively thrash against his hold and his hand tightens hard around my thigh, practically circling the entire thing. I’ll probably end up with a bruise. Taking a deep breath, I force myself to still. “Because I was snooping around without permission.”

“Not just that,” he replies sharply. His hand curves around my hip, fingers pressing painfully into the divot of my hip, as he watches me for a reaction. “I’m the one who knows your shameful little secret.”

My heart beats hard enough to burst from my chest. I distantly wander if kicking him in the face would surprise him enough to allow me to get away.

As if I have anywhere else to run.

I swallow a bite of the bread, and it settles like a stone in my belly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You think you can come back here and playact like the proper, chastised Omega without giving something up in the process?” When I instinctively shift away, he wrenches my thighs apart until the outside of my knees presses against the table’s edge. He leans forward until his lips brush against my inner thigh as he speaks, tone harsh and mocking. “Why are you fighting? I thought this is what you wanted. What was it you said, who wouldn’t want to be a princess? Safe and protected. You chose Logan — you chose us — because we’re the only ones who can give you what you need. That’s why you haven’t let another Alpha touch you since you ran away from us.”

I don’t want to remember that day a year ago, not right now. Not when the memory still causes a reaction that I can’t fight.

Ares presses a gentle kiss against my inner thigh. The softness is a sharp contrast to the harsh grip of his fingers as he holds me in place. He shifts higher, nose brushing against the patch of hair on my mound as he deeply inhales. When he makes a satisfied growl, my belly clenches in response.

A plaintive whimper escapes my lips as my head tips back to hang from my shoulders. I just want this moment to be over before the hot shame of it burns me to a crisp. “Please, just do whatever you’re going to do.”

He shakes his head, making a sound of disappointment. “I don’t need to crack your head open to see what you have hidden inside, sweet Omega. That day is one of my favorite memories. I was the one who had his fingers nearly broken in half from how hard you squeezed them when you came. How fucking wet you were from the moment Logan told you to get on your knees. You want this. You want us. You always have.”

With no warning, he thrusts a thick finger inside me. I keen, hips rising almost an inch off the table before he presses me back down. His hiss of satisfaction curls along my senses and sends a shiver of feeling right between my legs.

“Fucking wet, enough to drown in.”

He pumps in and out with a steady, punishing rhythm that would force my body further back on the table if he didn’t wrap his arm around my waist to prevent any further movement. A loud squelching sound brings a fiery blush to my cheeks and I distantly wish it were actually possible to die of shame.

My knees tremble as I resist the deep pulse of pleasure. “Just because you force my body to respond doesn’t mean I like it.”

“No?” He adds a third finger, stretching me wide enough that a slight burn cuts through the pleasure. His tongue peeks out of his mouth to trace full lips. “Let’s test that theory.”

I know I should be expecting it, but I still let out a squeak of surprise when his mouth descends. He flattens his tongue directly against my engorged clit. His fingers continue to pump in and out, twisting to hit a spot deep inside me that forces a guttural moan from my throat.

He licks with slow strokes, teasing in circles around the sensitive bit of flesh, then sucks it hard between his lips. Heated pleasure grows like a ball of fire at the pit of my belly. It grows larger and larger until I feel just on the edge of exploding. The dinner roll hits the carpet with a dull thud as both of my hands push into his hair, my hips bucking in search of an imminent release.

Ares abruptly pulls away, leaving only cold air where his heat used to be. The muscles of my belly spasm from the ruined orgasm, leaving me feeling deflated and empty.

“I think you taste even better than I remember.” He holds up glistening fingers, maintaining eye contact as he licks them clean. “When you catch your breath, tell me just how much you hated every moment of that. If you’re really convincing, I won’t touch you again tonight. I’ll even let you go back to the harem.”

I fight the urge to cry, both from shame and the spoiled pleasure from my almost orgasm. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Logan thinks he cares about why you came crawling back to us. He is already imagining what kind of dark, dirty secret you’re keeping to explain it.” He rubs his cheek against my inner thigh, scenting me. The day-old stubble is abrasive on the sensitive skin. “But I’ll let you in on one of my secrets, sweetheart. I don’t give a single, solitary fuck what brought you back here. The only thing I care about is right here. I plan to play in this sweet, little cunt as much and as often as I can. Tell us all your secrets, or don’t. It doesn’t make any difference to me.”

The tears in my eyes are from more than anger. “I hate you.”

“I know, baby.” He shrugs off my words, though his lip curls into a snarl as he studies me. With his head hovering between my legs, green eyes visible just above the curve of my belly. “Let’s keep that energy going. This is a punishment, remember? Only good Omegas who follow the rules get rewarded.”

I try once to shove him away, but he barely does more than laugh when I manage a single solid kick to his chest. If he even feels the strike, Ares doesn’t give any reaction, just holding me down more firmly as his mouth descends to lick at my swollen pussy.

He brings me to the edge of orgasm at least three more times before I lose count. With each one, I think I might manage it despite his efforts. But to my endless frustration, Ares always seems to know when I’m about to fall over the precipice. He pulls back every time, letting the fire bank for a few minutes before redoubling his efforts to drive me entirely out of my mind.

He pushes another finger inside me every time I curse at him and presses the edge of his teeth into my clit when I insult whatever farm animal gave birth to him. Eventually I relent and stop trying to resist him, falling back on the table in a near daze until he decides that I’ve had enough. Though I put up enough of a fight that I feel bad for whatever servant will be expected to come clean up the mess.

By the end of it, I’m fully prostrate on the dining table with several of the dishes swept aside and crashed on the floor. The ceiling slowly spins above me, crystal chandeliers reflecting the light in impossible patterns that make me wonder if I’m hallucinating.

Ares finally rises from his crouch to loom over me, nostrils flaring with each breath. His lips glisten with slick. His pupils are dilated so fully that his eyes appear almost entirely black, with only a thin circle of green at the very edge.

He looks like a wild animal.

Until he smiles. Then he just looks like a monster.

But he plays the gentleman as he gently helps me off the table, supporting my boneless body as I struggle to put on the robe. Though when I’m finally standing upright, on shaky legs but under my own power, he continues to stand too close.

I refuse to look at him until he grips my chin and forces me to meet his gaze.

Eyes as green as toxic pools stare back at me. It takes everything I have not to rake my nails down the side of face. Anything to break that look of triumph twisting his features.

“Go ahead and run along back to the harem. A guard is waiting to escort you.” He catches my arm before I can turn away, his smile widening when my body tenses in reaction. “I won’t tell you not to try finishing what I started when you get back to your room. In fact, I want you to try.” His hands slip down to the belt of my robe, making a bow out of the fabric and pulling it tight. One hand brushes across the apex of my thighs, the touch too light to be more than teasing. “Because even if you manage to wring out some weak orgasm with your own fingers, you’ll spend the entire time wishing I’d given you something better.”

The moment he releases me, I bolt for the door. As promised, a beta guard, who very carefully doesn’t look at me, is waiting in the hallway. I limp behind him, back to the harem. My pussy is still so wet and swollen that it feels like I’m trying to hold a ripe peace between my thighs as I walk.

Frustration tightens every muscle, making my head spin. As soon as the door to my room closes, I collapse against it and shove my hand under the flimsy fabric of my robe. Even though I’m still wet enough to be dripping, my already abused clit screams in protest with even the lightest press of my fingers. Tiny shocks of pain-laced pleasure are barely enough to get me to the weakest and most disappointing orgasm that I’ve ever experienced.

Ares last words to me echo through my head.

You’ll spend the entire time wishing I’d given you something better.

I can’t decide which of us I hate more.