Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
MAYA
I should be more anxious than I am about making our entrance into the gala. Our tardiness has ensured the event is in full swing as the double doors to the ballroom swing open and a guard announces the arrival of Pack Logan.
And their Omega.
I’m already expecting it when hundreds of faces turn toward us as we enter the room.
It isn’t quite as dramatic as it could be. The string quartet doesn’t stop playing. But the din of conversation, laughter and clinking glasses lowers to something quieter. We have the attention of most everyone here, if not all of them.
Faces blur in my vision in the crowd as we walk past. I focus my gaze on a spot just above the grand dais where the king sits. Logan’s body language is relaxed, his expression one of brusque confidence, as if having the attention of literally everyone in the room is not only his expectation, but a basic right.
But I sense the muscles coiling in tension underneath my hand, flexing every time a murmured comment is spoken loudly enough for us to hear before he relaxes again.
“Is that the queen’s old claiming gown?”
“She looks amazing in it.”
“Like an amazing slut, you mean? I heard she was already on her knees in that interview before the door was all the way closed behind her.”
“You know how Omegas are. They can’t help themselves.”
“God help her. I hope it’s worth it.”
Their comments are the normal mix of beta disdain, combined with the healthy dose of jealousy they refuse to acknowledge. Their derision is nothing new. Too many people are convinced that Omegas possess neither brains nor desires of their own, serving only as vessels for the Alpha that claims them.
Secretly, they’re just desperate to know what it’s like. Even as they look down on us, too many beta women would cut off a body part for the chance to become the fixed obsession of a powerful Alpha.
I wish they understood the truth.
The grass isn’t greener on the other side of the fence, and all the plants are poisonous.
A small crowd gathers around the king, but it naturally parts as we approach. Logan keeps me glued to his side, instead of maneuvering me to the more subordinate position behind him with the rest of his pack.
Logan gives the slightest bow with his head, not breaking eye contact with the king. “Greetings, father. ”
Alphas without the bonds of a pack don’t take their eyes off each other, even if they are father and son.
King Leopold’s piercing gaze travels over us, his expression unreadable.
Until this moment, wearing Midale’s gown seemed like a brilliant move. Now, as the king’s gaze takes me in, missing no detail from the crown of gemstones in my hair to my slipper-covered feet, he would see shift nervously if the hem of my gown did not entirely cover them, I’m reconsidering.
Leopold loved Midale. The reminder of her should be a good one.
Or, I’m seconds away from being forcibly stripped naked and kicked out of here on my ass.
The band lets their song come to an end, the last note echoing through the room that slowly swells with anticipatory silence.
From his elevated position on the dais, Leopold observes us with a neutral expression. Broad frame encased in the finest brocade embroidered with the sigil of Melilla, he sits on the throne less like a king and more like a lion lounging on a sunbaked rock on the savannah, lazily surveying his kingdom.
Light brown eyes narrow on my face. Ruthless intelligence burns in those eyes. I immediately know that regardless of whatever his genuine reaction to the sight of me in his dead wife’s gown might be, the one he displays to the court will serve a political purpose.
He exudes a sense of tightly leashed control that the prince lacks, as if the boiling soup pot of aggression and fury has a tight lid on it. At least, for now. Political rivals are no longer torn apart before the entire court like they used to be because Leopold insists on the veneer of civility. But it’s an open secret that anyone who has ever even hinted at an attempt to consolidate their own power base or challenged his rule has a tendency to fall tragically out of a window or mysteriously disappear.
Logan doesn’t display any interest in controlling his urges, which only raises the question of what might make King Leopold, among all of his sons, choose Logan for his heir.
That dark thought dissipates like a puff of smoke when the king’s lip curls upward in a mocking smile.
“My son.” Leopold’s voice carries easily through the now-silent ballroom. “I see you have finally found an Omega worthy of your attention.”
Logan’s fingers dig into my waist. “Yes, I have.”
“And she is here in your mother’s gown, no less,” Leopold muses. Predator’s eyes turn to me. “Tell me, little one. Did you choose that dress yourself?”
My mouth goes dry as I give him a formal curtsy. It doesn’t escape my attention that he has expressed neither approval nor disapproval of our bold choice.
I keep my head bowed submissively, but allow a note of teasing to enter my voice. “I suppose that depends on how you think I wear it, your majesty. If you do not approve, then obviously it was all Prince Logan’s idea.”
The room takes a collective breath, waiting for the king’s response.
Leopold lets out a guffaw of genuine laughter. He leans forward with one elbow on his knee to rest his chin on his fist as he surveys me. “This dress has always been one of my favorites. I’ll grant that you wear it quite well. I doubt there is an Omega alive who could do better.” He turns to his son and his smile dims somewhat, expression turned calculating. “Though I do not recall ever stating my wife’s wardrobe could be distributed freely.”
“You also never stated they could not,” Logan replies easily. “Forgive me for begging forgiveness, rather than asking permission. I did not want to risk that anyone might miss out on such a vision simply out of misplaced notions of appropriateness.”
The king descends from the dais, triggering gasps of surprise from the gathered crowd. Leopold never condescends to be on the same level as his subjects, at least not before the open court.
Leopold comes to a stop before me, just short of touching distance. He leans close enough that I catch his scent, an unpleasant and disorienting combination of caramel and burnt popcorn.
“Perhaps that’s why you chose this one?” Leopold’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “She reminds you of your mother?”
Logan tenses, the movement so subtle that I only sense it through the line of his body pressed against mine. I risk a glance at his face. If the idea of his father’s censure makes him nervous, his expression gives no evidence of it away.
Leopold continues, his keen gaze missing nothing as he surveys his son. “It’s the eyes, I think. Not the color, of course, but perhaps the shape or the flare of the brow. Yes, there is something of a similarity there. Quite remarkable.”
Logan’s jaw works, but his voice is smooth when he speaks. “Maya is her own woman. ”
Maybe he is slightly more of a political animal than I gave him credit for.
“I suppose that remains to be seen.” Leopold reaches out, catching a loose curl of my hair between his fingers. “She still smells ripe. I suppose there isn’t a claiming mark I’ve missed hidden under your mother’s dress?”
Logan draws me closer against him, subtly shifting me out of the king’s reach. “Our mating contract is currently provisional. Given your sterling example, I want to be sure that I choose an Omega truly worthy of standing beside me as a princess of Melilla, much less the queen.”
The smallest eye twitch of his eye is the only reaction the king gives in acknowledgement to the fact that he hasn’t officially named an heir.
“Don’t take too long,” Leopold chides with a cool smile. “It would be a shame if your own inaction allowed another Alpha to claim your Omega out from under you. Despite my best efforts, there simply aren’t enough of them to go around.”
Logan gives his father another bare nod. “As always, I take your council under the most considerable advisement.”
Leopold turns back to the dais with a chuckle. Once settled back on his throne, he makes a gesture of dismissal. “And that is all I can ask of my favorite son. Away with you now and enjoy my party. Music!”
His favorite son.
I expect to see satisfaction in his expression, but Logan’s face is frozen.
The band plays and the surrounding conversation slowly resumes.Logan bows slightly lower than the last time, now that his father is out of reach. His grip on my arm is near to bruising as he spins me around.
“Ouch,” I gripe, trying and failing to pull out of his grasp. “That went well. You had better not be mad at me.”
“I’m not mad,” he bites out, so obviously mad that it would be funny if he wasn’t so downright annoying.
“Oh, really? Is that why you’re about to yank my arm off?”
“Be quiet.” He motions for Poe and Ares to fall in closer, while Cillian sullenly follows behind them. “Not another word until we get to our table.”
I let him practically drag me through the crowd toward the outer ring of tables designated for each prince and their pack, my annoyance growing.
But I hold my tongue like he commanded, if just because we’re in public. No reason to undo the good work I just put in by openly defying him where someone else might see it.
Our assigned table is the only empty one left. Logan practically shoves me toward a chair nearest the wall. He and the others take strategic seats around the table, so they’re between me and anyone who might approach. All their chairs are angled to face the crowd.
“What is going on?”
Ares shoots me a small smile before Poe slaps him on the back and he turns away with a grumble. Poe’s hand rests on his hip at an odd angle, which likely means he is touching a weapon hidden under his clothes.
Logan sits closest to me, so I direct my question at him. “Why are you all acting like we’re about to be attacked?”
“Maybe we are,” Ares drawls and Poe shushes him .
I shove Logan hard enough in the shoulder that he finally turns to glare at me.
“The dress was a good idea,” I insist, confused at their reactions. “The king liked me.”
“Yes, I know the king liked you,” he snaps, looking away again with a deepening scowl on his face. “That’s exactly the fucking problem.”
I follow his gaze to a group of nearby Alphas. I recognize one of them as a lesser prince, who did not get an Omega, but don’t recognize the others. The entire group stares at us.
No, they’re staring at me.
Logan growls and a few of them look away, but not all of them. “The king liked you so much that he put a fucking target on your back.”
I never would have thought a palace gala could be this damn boring. Several Alphas have attempted to approach the table, most under the flimsy excuse of paying their respects to the presumed heir. For his part, Logan acts beyond dismissive. Growling and snarling whenever anyone within spitting distance has the nerve to so much as glance my way.
Prince Nikolai is a notable exception.
Nikolai’s claiming mark is high enough on his neck to be clearly visible, framed by a long fall of blonde hair that somehow does nothing to soften the harsh lines of his face. Saffron is by his side and she gives me a little wave.
“Brother,” he greets Logan with a friendly smile before nodding at the others. “Strange to see you sitting here all alone. Mind if we join for a bit?”
Logan’s body language says hell no , but he surprises me by giving a grunt of assent.
Then I realize he doesn’t have a choice.
Nikolai is bonded, his mate with him. He wouldn’t dare make himself a threat because that might put his own Omega at risk. Even further, it would be an insult to turn him away. Even Logan plays the politics game well enough to know that.
“Where is your pack?” Logan grumbles.
His brother makes a show of looking around the ballroom. “I know you arrived late, so I don’t mind catching you up. You see those musicians and that dance floor over there, don’t you? Some people like to take advantage of those things by actually using them.”
I laugh, biting it back only when Logan glares at me.
I like his brother already.
Nikolai helps Saffron into the seat next to me. His large hands rest gently on her shoulders for a moment as she settles before he takes a chair beside her. I can’t help but notice that he immediately takes her hand and cradles it between both of his.
“Eliot and Xander are dancing. As social convention demands, in case you missed that part,” Nikolai continues. His gaze flicks over the others at the table. “I know Poe and Cillian always hold up the walls at these things. But Ares, I’m surprised you aren’t out there spinning a harem beta hard enough to make her vomit like he did at the king’s birthday celebration last year.”
Initially, none of them answer. I get the impression that they don’t want to admit that all four of them have to sit in the corner all night just to keep any curious Alphas away from me. Not only would it make them sound a little ridiculous, but would also undermine Logan’s position. If he isn’t strong enough to protect his Omega, then he isn’t strong enough to sit on the throne.
Ares is the first to speak, though he sounds like the words taste bad. “I messed my back up during training yesterday. No dancing for me tonight.”
“What a tragedy,” Nikolai replies affably, eyes dancing in amusement. “And what excuses to sit here all night have you come up with, Logan?”
Logan glares at him. “I’m saving my strength for beating one of my brothers into a bloody mess after the gala is over. Think you might be available?”
“I will always make myself available for you, little brother.”
Saffron leans over to whisper in my ear. “Nikolai is going to ask you to dance. You need to say yes.”
I make sure Logan isn’t watching before I answer, but he’s currently too busy trading not-so-friendly barbs with Nikolai, who just looks more amused with each passing moment. “Logan will kill him.”
She scoffs, “He’ll try. Nikolai is only nice for as long as people let him be.”
“Fine. Logan will kill me.”
She rolls her eyes at that. “Doubt it. But murderous feelings are sort of the point.”
My brow furrows. “Why would I want to make him murder-level angry?”
“I swear something in your brain is broken,” Saffron says with a sigh. “We need to get Logan off the fence and make him commit to you. Leopold won’t name him as heir to the throne until he claims an Omega. Hopefully, you.”
“You want to help me become queen?”
“Who else? Me?” she laughs, when I cast her an incredulous look. “Do you have any idea how much it takes out of me to play the bitchy queen bee? I can handle it for a few days, at the most. I’ll take the quiet life with a devoted Alpha who has plenty of money and influence, but enjoys staying out of the spotlight. You are so much better at this than I am. You have no idea.”
My mouth turns down in a frown, not so sure I appreciate her assessment.
“I’m not calling you a bitch, by the way,” she adds. “I’ve just never seen anyone walk in here and command a room like you do. No nerves, no backing down, just pure confidence in every movement you make. Now, I understand that it’s all an act, just like with the rest of us, but people have to get real close to see it. I’ve met no one better suited to be queen, and that includes Midale.”
I’m surprised by what sounds like a genuine compliment. “I appreciate that.”
“Even better, you’re mostly not an asshole.”
I roll my eyes. That sounds closer to the Saffron I know. “Thanks.”
She bumps me gently with her shoulder, a rueful smile on her face. “It doesn’t hurt that I made a point of talking to every Omega who showed up for the interviews. You’re the only one I didn’t want to strangle with her own hair.”
“I’m flattered,” I reply with a rueful chuckle .
Thanks to her warning, I’m not surprised when Nikolai abruptly stands and offers his hand to me.
“One dance, brother. I promise to bring her back without anyone else’s teeth imprinted on her neck.”
He has already swept me away before Logan has a chance to stop him.
“You’ve done very well so far,” Nikolai comments idly, propelling me through the crowd. “This dress was a good choice. I don’t think it will take much more to push my brother firmly over the edge.”
Nikolai holds me at a respectful distance as he leads me through a waltz.
The crowd is thick enough around the dance floor that I quickly lose sight of our table. If Logan has already torn off after us, then I have no way of knowing it.
A distant shout is barely audible over the music.
“I think we’ve got about five minutes,” Nikolai chuckles. “But I’ll try to make them worth it.”
Saffron might have convinced me of her own reasoning, but Nikolai is more of a wild card. He is older, almost by enough to be Logan’s father himself. If he isn’t the oldest of the princes, then it’s a close thing. He must have been born prior to Leopold claiming Midale, his mother one of the harem betas.
But I amsettled by his presence in a way that surprises me, which is why I ask the necessary question without heat.
“Why are you doing this?”
“Logan has always been a selfish, spoiled little shit.” Nikolai guides me in an effortless turn that brings us closer to the center of the dance floor. “He is also the only one of Midale’s son to see this kingdom for what it is, but also has the ruthlessness required to make the changes that will soon become unavoidable.”
“And you truly don’t want to be king yourself?”
He gives me a small smile. “Some days, I don’t even want there to be a kingdom at all.”
Dangerous words. I raise my eyebrows, unsure how to respond to them.
“The last uprising might be over, but peace is more fragile than it has ever been before. King Leopold united mortal enemies with very different views of the world, all with the promise he would finally be the one to give them what they craved.”
It doesn’t take a political tactician to figure out what he means. “Omegas.”
He gives the barest nod, expression grim. “The response to Leopold’s call for interviews might have made it seem as if we’re simply drowning in them. But several princes were unsuccessful, unable to find a match or refused even by Omegas they made offers, and that’s without even including the Alphas of status here in this room who have to watch the spectacle but aren’t close enough to the crown to be included.”
I open my mouth to ask what he thinks Logan can do about a contingent of unhappy Alphas when we’re interrupted by a low growl.
Logan’s arm wraps around my waist, yanking me back against the solid wall of his chest.
“I’m cutting in,” he snarls.
“Of course you are.” Nikolai gives a graceful bow, completely unfazed by Logan’s aggression. “I assume you didn’t leave my Omega alone. ”
“Poe and Ares are still with her.”
Logan’s grip tightens painfully as Nikolai walks away. I can’t help the small whimper that escapes me.
“Did you enjoy that?” Logan’s voice is deceptively soft. “Making me look like a fool in front of the entire court?”
“Not all…”
“Quiet.” He spins me to face him, both hands gripping my upper arms. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing here?”
His anger doesn’t have the effect on me that I would expect. One dance with a bonded Alpha is enough to make Logan cause a scene. It’s hard not to feel a little gratified by that reaction.
The music continues to play, couples dancing around us as if nothing is happening. But I can see the eyes darting our way, the whispers behind raised hands.
It isn’t fear that sets my heart beating too fast as I stare into the face of a man who has been pushed too far. In fact, a sense of calm settles over me even as I know I’m watching the sparking wick of a stick of dynamite.
Something is about to happen.
Part of me desperately wants to know what he’ll do.
“Not here,” I tell him.
Logan’s eyes are wild, pupils blown wide and black. For a moment, I think he might actually lose control completely and mount me like a horse in the middle of the dance floor.
Instead, he wrenches me off my feet and practically carries me away through the crowd.
We don’t go far, ending up in one of the dozen alcoves concealed behind the heavy wall-to-ceiling drops of heavy drapery dotted along the walls of the ballroom .
Logan shoves me inside and wrenches the curtain closed behind us.
He hisses the question as he stalks toward me. “What do you think you’re doing?”
I don’t back away from him. If anything, I fight the urge to launch myself at him, all bared teeth and spitting curses. He is supposed to be the Alpha and he should act like it.
Maybe that crazed energy of his catching.
So I glare at him instead of saying something I can’t take back.
He slowly advances on me. “Maybe I should just fuck you right here and get it over with.”
I don’t believe he’ll do it, even as prickles of awareness dance down my spine. The thought of being taken for the first time against a wall just out of view of a hundred people is equal parts tempting and terrifying. “That would be your right.”
His fingers trace the line of my collarbone, leaving fire in their wake. “You’ve been pushing me since the moment you arrived. Testing my limits. Seeing how far you can go before I snap.”
“That’s not?—“
His hand wraps around my throat, not squeezing but holding firm enough to cut off my protest. “Don’t lie to me. You knew exactly what would happen when you danced with my brother.”
He is both right and wrong. This dress, my regal bearing, every moment since I stepped into the ballroom has been orchestrated. I even accepted Nikolai’s offer to dance, knowing that Logan would react poorly to the move .
But pushing him over the edge hadn’t been my intention.
Or had it?
He releases the pressure on my neck enough that I can speak.
“It would have been rude to refuse Prince Nikolai,” I offer.
“You could have looked to me for permission first.” His other hand slides down my back, pulling me closer. “Instead, you practically ran away from the table. That’s not the first time you’ve run away from me, is it?”
It’s hard to think past his intoxicating scent. I don’t have to like it for the taste of bitter clove and amber to envelop my senses. His proximity has always been enough to make my head spin.
“Do you want me to apologize?”
“You wouldn’t mean it.” He smirks at the look on my face, which must twist in grudging agreement. “I suppose I’ll have to get through to you in some other way.”
I expect Logan to kiss me. My tongue traces the curve of my suddenly dry lips, the movement compulsive. His attention fixates there, watching me like a man dying of thirst who wants to suck that bit of moisture right off me. Anticipation builds as he leans closer and I stay frozen, unsure if I want to comply or resist.
But he surprises me by taking a sudden half-step back, leaving me with that startled feeling you get when you miss the last step on a flight of stairs. An uncomfortable jolt that leaves me very aware of the precariousness of this situation.
His hand takes a firm grip on my shoulder, holding me in place. The shadows in the alcove seem to grow darker, more menacing. A predatory gleam in his golden eyes sends chills down my spine, just before his other hand rips up the hem of my borrowed dress.
Logan easily resists my attempts to push him away, bunching the fabric up around my waist until my lower body is exposed.
My fingers scrabble uselessly against his forearm, scratching bloody furrows into the skin that he ignores. “What…are you doing?!”
His laugh is dark and all predator. “Claiming what’s mine.”
He won’t mark me. He can’t. A claiming bite given outside of heat won’t even create a true mating bond. It would be useless, a thing to be mocked. Everyone at the gala will see it and know that he is incapable of control.
And that I’m not worth waiting for.
With a sharp motion, he tears away my underwear and tosses it aside. The sound of ripping fabric echoes in the small alcove, making me flinch. Cool air rushesbetween my legs, and I’ve never felt more vulnerable.
Being suddenly bare brings another terrible realization. I’m already wet. Dripping. Slick coats the tops of my thighs, cool against the raging heat of my skin.
He notices immediately, and his chuckle is mocking. “Violence really does it for you, huh?”
I struggle harder against his grip, hating him and my own body for responding so easily. He effortlessly pins me with his weight, keeping me trapped against the wall and freeing both of his hands. Cold stone presses into my back as my chest heaves with panicked breaths.
“Let go of me! ”
“You’re mine,” he bites out, glaring down at me. “By the time I’m done with you, everyone will know it.”
“I hate you,” I snap, never wanting to believe those words more than in this moment. “It doesn’t matter what you do to me. I’ll never be yours.”
One of his hand shifts to the fly of his pants, working at the buttons. His knuckles brush my overly sensitive flesh and my hips give a jerk of involuntary arousal. I look down, instinctively needing to see the evidence of my degradation, but the voluminous skirts of my borrowed dress are trapped between us, hiding his movement from sight.
I feel his hand move again and brace myself for the breaching pain. He is obviously not in the mood to be slow or gentle. It wasn’t that long ago that he promised to hurt me. I’m the one stupid enough to forget it.
His hand jerks and I flinch away, striking my head on the cold stone behind me.
But aside from a splitting headache, I feel no other pain.
Alpha cock hasn’t painfully shoved its way inside me.
“Tell me again how much you hate me.” Logan gasps, breathing hard around grunts of pleasure as he works at his own flesh. “It just makes this all easier.”
His grip is bruising on my hip, squeezing hard enough to compel a response.
“I hate you.”
Logan continues to jerk himself off. His knuckles drag through my folds with a maddening rhythm and not enough pressure to bring me anywhere near a release of my own.
The tip of him just barely traces my drenched seam before pulling away .
“Say it again.”
I want to bite him, hurt him, scream the walls down — anything to take back control of this moment.
Instead, I do what he commands. “I hate you.”
The knuckle of his middle finger dips inside meby the barest inch. “Louder.”
My traitorous body wants to be conquered, craves it like a good Omega should. But he won’t let me have it.
“I hate you.”
“God, I’m close. You smell so fucking good.” Logan buries his nose in the curve of my neck. “Say it again. One last time.”
I want to burn until there is nothing left but ashes.
“I’ll never be your Omega. I would rather die.”
Logan comes with a loud groan. Splashes of searing heat coat my inner thighs and the sensitive skin of my mound as he continues to ejaculate for an amount of time that should be impossible. I’m coating in him, covered, so drenched in his spend and his scent that I’m walking advertisement for his sexual aggression. Enough bitter clove and amber to choke on it.
I should be angry, but I only feel bereft. My inner muscles spasm painfully around the empty space where a knot should be.
Music and laughter slowly filter into my awareness, reminding me that we are not in a space intended for true privacy. Everyone at the gala might not have heard the rabid sounds of him jerking off all over me, but it’s impossible that no one did.
And anyone who missed the live show will know from the moment I step out of this alcove.
Logan rubs his cum into my skin, scenting me thoroughly enough that I’ll probably still smell of him even after I’ve bathed. He finally steps away, letting the dress fall back down to cover me, fabric now tacky against my skin. The dress is ruined, but I can’t quite bring myself to care.
My body feels boneless and weak, only the support of the wall at my back keeping me on my feet.
Logan’s voice is quiet, but holds a deadly intensity. “This was your fault. This is what you Omegas always fucking do. You made me do this by pushing and testing me until you left me no choice. And this is what will happen every damn time you do it again.”
He just shakes his head and curses when I say nothing.
“This is what’s going to happen next. We’re going back out there — and don’t think I won’t carry you if you make me.” He picks up my underwear and uses that to wipe himself clean before tossing them at me. I let the lacy scrap bounce off my chest and fall to the ground at my feet, unable to physically react. “Then we’re going to stay on that dance floor until every fucking person in there understands exactly who you belong to.”
My legs feel weak enough to collapse, but I heave myself to my feet because I don’t want to give him any excuse to touch me.
The truth is that we both push, each of us trying to force the other into bending and posing in the right shape.
The real question is how much farther can we bend without breaking?