Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
ARES
I lean back in my chair, a satisfied smirk playing across my lips as I watch Maya on the security video. Surveillance systems are in place throughout the palace, but I’m one of the few who can access the encrypted live feeds. The camera tucked up against the ceiling in her room is small enough that she almost certainly hasn’t noticed it.
I track her stumbling progress all the way from Logan’s apartment and back to the harem. She looks like a shellshocked soldier on the way home from the frontline.
My only regret is that I didn’t figure out sooner how effective a little orgasm denial could be on an Omega too innocent to hide her physical responses.
Her reaction once she finds herself alone in the room is fucking perfection. When her filthy hands slip under that robe and her face screws up in pained concentration, I feel a spike of pleasure so sharp that I couldn’t ignore it if I wanted to.
My zipper is undone within thirty seconds because I’m either going to finish in my pants or in my hand .
It’s too bad that the surveillance system is only wired for video, and not audio. Though I can easily imagine the breathy little mewls and desperate groans Maya makes as she puts a valiant effort into getting herself off. The little sounds she made when I had my face buried in her cunt still echo pleasantly in my mind.
My dick has been rock hard from the moment I caught her in the basement. The smell of her slick lingers in the apartment making it easy to I imagine it’s her hands gripping me hard. I drift in the memory of my cheek pressed against the frantic heartbeat pulsing in her upper thigh as I licked up every drop of slick. The way she melted against me when she finally gave into the inevitable at the end and stopped fighting me. Watching her struggle with unfulfilled desire now might be even sweeter.
A few strokes as I watch her tiny mouth flutter in panting breaths is all it takes.
I come almost quickly as she does and pull off my t-shirt to clean up the mess before tossing it to the side.
As soon as her quivering little orgasm is done, Maya throws herself face down on the bed. She brings both of her hands up to cover her face and her shoulders shake with tears.
No, not tears, I realize as I shift closer to the grainy black and white feed on the monitor. She isn’t wailing in despair, or fear.
Those are screams of rage.
Should have known , I think with amusement.
“Not so composed now, are you, little Omega?”
The only thing that stopped me from flipping Maya over and fucking her in the mess of our late lunch is Logan’s bullshit decision to make her off-limits.
Pack’s share the spoils. It is literally the entire point of being packed up, because there have never been enough Omegas to go around.Lucky for our favorite spoiled prince, I’ve become more patient with age.
But I’m only willing to wait for so long.
I lean back in my chair and crack my neck, still watching Maya’s tiny form on the security feed. The sight of her writhing in frustration sends another pulse of desire through me. Eventually, I’m going to make good on the unspoken promise I made to her today. Once I finally get her under me, that lithe little body will come so hard that she won’t be able to see straight afterwards. She won’t harbor any more delusions that grinding on her own tiny fingers can possibly compare to taking an Alpha’s knot.
For now, there is other work to be done.
I pull up the background check I ran on Maya after her interview. The girl is obviously hiding something. I plan to figure out precisely what it is before a dirty secret pops out of the woodwork to bite us on the ass. Not to mention, I low-key love the idea of having something to hold over her head.
Blackmail might be my favorite flavor of coerced consent.
Her academic record at the Enclave is the easiest thing to find, the security on it only one step removed from that of entirely public records. The words Omega and privacy might actually be listed as antonyms in the dictionary. The government stops just short of legally requiring them to be registered and monitored, but Omegas don’t slip the net easily.
Which is why it is so damn surprising that Maya basically dropped off the radar for an entire year. Before she applied for the palace interview, her last known location entry was just days after that ill-fated meeting with us. There are 378 days, fourteen hours and eight minutes between entries, her whereabouts completely unaccounted for in that time.
Where the fuck was she all that time?
Maya’s file lists only a single next-of-kin. A beta mother, Charlotte Tantamount-Ovation, who has been married at least three times but has no other offspring. Maya’s father, also beta, shows as deceased, though his record is thinner than I’d expect. Given how rare that fluke of genetic destiny has become, the mother must have been over the moon when Maya presented as Omega. The statistics on that pairing have got to be near one-in-a-million territory. I have a distant memory of meeting a dizzy woman with a voice pitched too high and a dress cut too low, but I couldn’t pick Maya’s mother out of a lineup if someone paid me.
Charlotte’s credit report is a bit more interesting. Multiple mortgages on a property that was later seized for non-repayment, failed business ventures and gambling debts. The Enclave stipend kept her afloat, but not for lack of trying. Her financial situation only seems to have improved in the last few years with a new marriage.
Maya has no criminal or employment records. Both those things are unsurprising. Omegas are too easily subdued for their violence to reach the point of Guardian intervention. If they ever do, bonded Omega’s crimes are the responsibility of her Alpha to address. An unbonded one, like Maya, would probably be taken back to the Enclave for “re-education” with any restitution for damages just added to her debt. Employment is out of the question. No one would hire an Omega that will almost inevitably bond an Alpha, then be forced to abandon their position at any point.
The Enclave records provide no actual answers, but I find one interesting tidbit.
Typically, Omegas can’t leave the Enclave without paying off their debt first. Whichever pack or particularly well-off Alpha she chooses provides the funds as part of a mating contract. Omegas who refuse to accept a contract and can’t pay off their debt on their own might just be sold off against their will. It rarely comes to that, of course. Most Omegas are smart enough to make their own less than ideal choice, rather than leave their future in the hands of whoever the Enclave finally pawns them off to out of spite.
Maya only paid off her contract recently, using the credits that Poe stupidly thought would tempt her into running off again. She hasn’t been at the Enclave for the past year, which means they let her go without requiring she pay off her balance first. Checking the transaction logs from last year, I see her debt status was changed from active to on hold , with no explanation of what that means.
Did she find an Alpha with enough pull to get her out of the Enclave on credit? No, that makes absolutely no sense. Central Command, the judicial arm of the government, requires the official filing of all mating contracts. If someone had her for a year, they somehow pulled it off without creating a paper trail.
And never fucked her…
My gaze drifts back to the feed, an inexplicable gravitational pull. The little lump curled into a ball under the thin blanket seems impossibly small, practically childlike, and so very vulnerable. An unfamiliar feeling swells behind my ribs, an unwelcome ache that I force away with a burst of annoyance.
Then she kicks off the covers in an unexpected fit of violence. She is left flat on her back, body exposed and eyes screwed shut with restless sleep. The fabric of her undershirt twists around her torso and stretches tight across the rapid rise and fall of her chest, hiding none of the glorious curves and dips of her luscious body.
My attention lingers on the twin angles of her jutting hips. Her stomach is a gentle concavity that tremors slightly with every rough breath she takes.
Not emaciated by any means, but still underfed.
The thought of her going without food is galling.
“How desperate did you have to be to come back here, little one?” I mutter, tearing my gaze away to pull up the palace’s ordering system on my main screen.
The harem usually provides meals communally, but Maya is stubborn and proud. Shame might keep her hiding in her room rather than face the attention that the few Omegas in the harem will inevitably attract.
I schedule three meals a day, plus snacks, to be delivered to her room even if she isn’t there. That way, there will always be a meal available, regardless of any changes to her schedule. I can personally ensure she eats enough when she is here in the apartment or involved in any royal duties with Logan. The thought of a single hungry growl coming from her stomach makes my teeth clench.
And if I catch her deliberately skipping meals, I have a ready reason to punish her.
Not that I really need one.
My phone buzzes with a message from Logan. “Meeting room. Now.”
I close the surveillance feeds and stretch, muscles still humming with satisfaction from an easy orgasm. Whatever game Maya’s playing, I’ll figure it out, eventually. Forget hanging herself. I’ll give her just enough rope to tie her down spread-eagled on my bed.
If I don’t shower and change before meeting Logan, he will definitely smell Maya’s scent all over me.His reaction would be apoplectic.
With a satisfied smile, I glance at the soiled shirt on the floor.
Even if he tries to kill me, still worth it.
I stride down the hallway toward the meeting room, a cold shower and fresh shirt barely enough to ward away the restless energy still thrumming through my veins. The familiar scent of Maya lingers in my nose despite my best efforts.
Poe materializes from a shadowy corner, barely an arm’s length away when I first notice him. Fucking creeper. I swear the guy trains for the specific purpose of becoming one with the wallpaper.
His nostrils flare as I pass. “You reek of Omega. ”
“Better that than jealousy,” I goad with a taunting smile.
He snarls, the sound carrying more actual threat than we typically use with each other. “We aren’t supposed to touch her.”
“We aren’t supposed to fuck her,” I correct him without attempting to hide my smirk. “Besides, you’re the one who turned her cunt into a hand puppet. I had some catching up to do.”
“What the fuck did you do?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary. We wrestled around a little in the training room, then there was some light orgasm denial and voyeurism. Typical stuff. Got to break her in gently, you know. Virgin pussy shouldn’t be rushed and all that.”
Anger burns in his eyes, a lightning storm in the darkness. The angry growl trickling from between his teeth turning darker. He gives me a look so angry that it would have constituted a challenge if we weren’t pack brothers.
Normally, Poe is so composed that it’s scary. Out of everyone in the pack, he is the one who least shows emotion. The one who could rip out a man’s heart with his bare hands and not so much as change his expression. Consistent. Unflappable. His rage a frozen depth that never suffers so much as a crack along the surface.
Until now.
I’ve never seen him this worked up over anything — or anyone — before.
The only thing that might be better than turning Maya’s Omega urges against her is needling Poe about it afterwards.
I roll my shoulders back, loosening the muscle in preparation for what might be coming next. “What’s wrong? Still mad she turned down your little bribe? I know you’re used to paying for it, but Maya might need a better incentive to deal with your temper tantrums.”
Poe launches himself at me with a roar. Even though I’m expecting it, I only react to the blur of movement a split second before impact. His fist glances off my jaw instead of landing dead center and breaking my nose. My head still rocks to the side with the force of his blow, and the metallic tang of blood floods my mouth as my teeth slice into my cheek.
My laughter echoes off the office walls as I spit a mouthful of red onto the hardwood floor. “Getting sloppy there, brother. You know I’m always up for a sparring match downstairs if you need the practice.”
His next blow is quicker, catching me hard enough in the gut that I double over, air forced from my lungs with a laughing gasp. Ignoring the dull throb of pain, I force myself back upright with a chucking cough.
“That’s it, brother. We’ve got to work out all this aggression somehow, since we don’t have an Omega to use.”
Poe’s chest heaves, his usual composure entirely shattered. Gone is the cold and calculated killer instinct, now replaced by raw animal fury. “I am going to beat you unconscious.”
“Do it.” I spread my arms wide, presenting an open target. “Come on, hit me again. And when you do, it’ll be the same as admitting that you’re feeling just as territorial over our shiny new Omega as I am. You goddamn hypocrite.”
The muscles in his jaw flex as he clenches his teeth. His hands curl into tight fists at his sides, knuckles white with restraint. The scent of his rage fills the air between us — sharp and acrid, like gunpowder ready to ignite.
For a second, I think he might actually make good on his threat when we’re interrupted.
“Enough!” Logan slams his hand on the door frame, his bulk filling the opening to the meeting room. He clearly caught at least part of our exchange. “Get in here before I kill you both.”
I resist the urge to stick my tongue out at Poe as he stomps past me.
Poe doesn’t waste time as he takes a seat next to Logan at the rectangular table. “Did you or did you not say that the Omega is off-limits?”
Logan rubs at his temples as he collapses into his seat. “I am not feeding this playground fight by arguing semantics.”
I can’t help flashing a shit-eating grin at Poe. “Told you.”
Logan turns on me with a muffled snarl. “I hope you discovered something useful while deliberately defying my commands.”
As tempted as I am to provoke him in the same way I did Poe, Logan is much closer to losing control. His breaking point might just be enough to kill us all. Probably not worth the risk.
Clearing my throat, I snag a nearby tablet and bring my notes from Maya’s file. “There’s a hole here about a mile wide. Her whereabouts for the last year are entirely unaccounted for.”
“Really?” Golden eyes narrowing, he gestures for the tablet and studies the sparse information with obvious interest. “Any leads? ”
“Not exactly, but I think I might know where to find one.”
He blows out a hard breath. “Go on.”
“I think we should dig into her Enclave debt, how it went unpaid for a year. Something fishy is going on there.”
“Do it, but be discreet. Let me know if you need to task any additional resources.”
Poe makes a disgusted sound. “You cannot be serious about this, Logan. No Omega is worth this amount of chaos. We’re practically at each other’s throats and it’s only been a day.”
“Hey, don’t blame me for your lack of control,” I protest. “You’re not the one with a loose molar.”
“I’m also not the one who left the dining room stinking of Omega cunt.”
“Relax, brother. Next time I lay out a feast, I’ll remember to save you some.”
Poe half-rises from his chair, eyes snapping.
“Enough, already. Fuck!” Logan throws himself back in his chair, propping his spit-shined boots on the mahogany table. “Fortunately for my tenuous hold on patience, we have more important things to discuss. Though I am expecting you to find something useful. And soon. You won’t like the consequences of disappointing me.”
I give him a single nod to show I understand the — poorly — veiled threat in his words. “You got it, boss.”
“What’s so important?” Poe asked, a note of annoyance lingering in his voice.
Logan gives him a level stare. “My brother.”
I resist the urge to ask which one , because I know he won’t appreciate the sarcasm. Logan has more brothers than I care to count, but only one of them particularly matters.
The one he murdered.
The smell of it still stands out in my memory. Walking into Logan’s quarters, the walls and floors drenched in red with the scent of iron in the air. Logan had literally torn his brother apart. Prince Ander would have been impossible to identify if not for the dark sigil of House Corellian tattooed on his back, the only bit of skin left relatively unscathed. Nothing about Ander’s death had been quick or clean, the violence outrageous in its excess.
Logan wouldn’t even tell us what the fuck happened.
All the princes have combative relationships with each other. The king’s refusal to name an heir officially ensures that their rivalries and political aspirations run deeper than any blood ties. Despite all that, Logan and Ander had never been enemies.
But Logan responded to questions with threats of violence delivered so sincerely that insisting on more information felt akin to suicide. At that moment, all our prince and pack leader wanted from us was to clean up his mess and keep our mouths shut.
Threats won’t cut it anymore. We deserve answers.
I settle into the seat, burly arms crossed over my chest. If a shitstorm is on the way, I might as well get comfortable. “Shouldn’t Cillian be in on this? Where is he?”
Logan waves the question away like it doesn’t matter. “Busy elsewhere, I assume.”
Cillian has been missing-in-action all day, but this is the first time I realize just how strange that is. “I thought he was supposed to be your personal guard. ”
“Exactly,” Logan snaps. “Doesn’t make him my damn babysitter.”
I exchange a look with Poe, both of us catching the defensive edge in Logan’s voice. Something isn’t adding up here.
“Look,” Logan continues, running a hand through his disheveled hair, golden strands standing on end like stalks of grain. “This morning’s council meeting brought the news that they’ve escalated the investigation into Ander’s death to an emergency inquest. The council is certain he was murdered.”
Poe scoffs. “The king won’t stand for that.”
Logan delivers his reply with a devastating solemnity. “It was the king’s idea.”
Unease creeps up, icy fingers tapping down my spine. “So, we’re fucked then?”
Firing squad is too good for the assassination of a royal, much less a blood crime. Princes assassinate each other. It happens. But they typically ensure someone else takes the blame for their crimes. The king will have no choice but to string us up by our toes in the public square so the entire city can watch as we’re flayed alive.
I did always want to go out with a bang.
Ever the optimist, Poe lets out a long sigh. “What do we do?”
“Cooperate with the investigation only as much as we have to. Make sure we cover our tracks and keep them covered.” Logan says with the easy confidence of royalty, like someone who has never encountered an insurmountable obstacle in his life.
“Oh, is that all?” I drawl .
Logan glares at me, catlike eyes as unfriendly as they get. “Without an obvious motive, the inquirer won’t have any reason to focus on me.”
I raise my eyebrows as Poe makes a noise that could be a laugh, but becomes a choking cough when Logan’s glare turns his way.
“Spit it out,” Logan demands.
Fine, I guess we’re just stating the obvious today. “You know, if we had some idea what actually happened, keeping the inquirer in the dark might be easier.”
“It was personal. That’s all you need to know.”
Abruptly standing, Logan stalks to the bar cart along the wall. He doesn’t allow any of the palace staff into his apartment when he is present, but they still keep the liquor discretely stocked. He makes a drink without offering one to anyone else and knocks it back before making a second one.
I grapple with a sudden surge of annoyance. Logan might be the prince, but that doesn’t automatically make him in charge enough to shut down any discussion. We’re supposed to be a pack, not just some random subordinate Alphas happy to snap up his scraps.
Logan has always been a smug prick. I usually find his posturing more amusing than irritating, but the last few days have been more brutal than usual.
I don’t like secrets. They itch at my skin and burn at my blood like a spreading infection. Him not trusting us enough to tell us everything makes me want to burn all of this to the ground.
A full glass of whiskey clinks on the table as Logan sets it down next to me.
He releases a heavy sigh, then squeezes my shoulder before returning to his chair. “My only real brothers are in this room. You already know as much as I can tell you right now.”
I take a healthy sip of whiskey, letting the burn of it wash away as much of the unease churning in my gut as it can. “Love you too, brother. But that line is only going to work for so long.”
Leather creaks as Poe shifts in his seat. “What about Cillian?”
Logan finishes his own drink and slams the empty glass down on the table hard enough to crack it. “What about him?”
“You said your real brothers are in this room,” Poe prompts. “Does that mean he doesn’t count?”
Logan glares down at his glass as if blaming it for being empty. “Cillian is a beta. It isn’t the same.”
Poe leans forward, a look I recognize as trouble on his face. “He hasn’t been around much lately.”
Definitely trouble.
“So?” Logan asks.
Poe’s expression doesn’t change, but I swear his eye is twitching. “I need to know if either of you have noticed anything unusual about Cillian lately.”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “Define unusual.”
Poe stresses, “I just think it’s strange how off he seems lately. Disappearing for hours without checking in. Acting squirrelly when he is even around. I can’t be the only one who’s noticed.”
“You might be,” I reply with a chuckle.
He actually isn’t, but admitting that won’t help anything.
“Think about it,” Poe presses. “The investigation into Ander was declared a murder when his body hasn’t even been discovered. The only way that happens is if someone had a reason to suspect foul play.”
No one will ever find Ander’s body. We made absolutely sure of that.
Logan’s jaw clenches. “You can’t seriously be suggesting?—“
“Who else knew about Ander?” Poe asks, cutting him off. “The four of us were the only ones there that night.”
The memory of blood-soaked marble flashes through my mind. Cillian had been eerily quiet as we cleaned, methodically erasing every trace while Logan raged. Come to think of it, his overall change in behavior can be traced to that night — withdrawn, distraction alternating with hyper-focus. Just different. He has only gotten worse since the Omega interviews and Maya’s arrival.
“This is ridiculous,” Logan snaps, but his voice lacks conviction. “Cillian has been by my side since we were children.”
“Which makes his recent behavior even more suspicious,” Poe points out.
I clear my throat. “Look, if Cillian wanted to betray Logan, he’s had plenty of chances over the years. No one in the palace has more access. Why would he wait until now to make a move?”
But even as I say it, doubt gnaws at me. The way Cillian’s been vanishing for hours. How he tenses up whenever someone mentions Maya. The careful distance he has kept from Logan lately, as far as he can get sometimes without entirely leaving the room.
“Exactly.” Logan bites out. “Fuck, Poe. I know paranoia is your favorite flavor, but this is ridiculous even for you.”
The obstinate look on Poe’s face doesn’t change. If anything, I already see the thoughts churning in his head. Poe is worse than a dog with a bone, because he has no problem digging six feet down to get at the rest of the skeleton.
And he’ll bury us all with him out of sheer damn stubbornness.
“Maybe we should—” I start, but Logan’s hand slams down on the table.
“Enough! I won’t hear another word about this.” He stands, chair scraping against hardwood. “Cillian is loyal. We need to be a united front for the Inquisitor or all of this is over. Anyone who says otherwise will have to eat through a straw until the inquiry is over because I broke their fucking jaw. End of discussion.”
Poe and I exchange glances as Logan storms to his bedroom, an entire conversation playing out between us over the course of about five seconds. That familiar feeling of unease returns. Pack bonds are supposed to be unbreakable, but lately everything feels like it’s balanced on a knife’s edge. One wrong move and it all comes crashing down.