Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
MAYA
I float in that heady place between sleeping and waking. Warmth cradles my body, leaving the impression of being wrapped in a fluffy cloud. It takes a bit for me to put together that the cloud is actually soft sheets and blankets layered on the most comfortable surface I’ve ever laid on.
Eyes still squeezed shut, I wait for the inevitable wave of anxiety and fear to overwhelm me. But those dark emotions never come. This might be the first morning in a dozen when I didn’t wake from the throes of my worst nightmare.
A dark and oaky sweetness tickles my nostrils. Aged bourbon and dark chocolate mingle like a decadent dessert on my tongue. My muscles feel loose and relaxed. And all I want to do is burrow deeper and never leave this bed.
Except the tiny bed in my harem room has sheets so rough they might have a single thread count and the mattress feels like a piece of flat rock.
This isn’t my bed.
I snap fully awake with enough speed that it makes my head ache. Memories from last night come flooding back with the force of a gut punch. The gala. Logan’s cruelty. Running to hide in the apartment. Ares finding me. His hands. His mouth.
Heat rushes to my face and I bury it in the sheets, so my involuntary scream is muffled. Aftershocks of remembered pleasure and a fair amount of shame create a confusing morass in my head.
Omegas are meant to serve Alphas. That idea was drilled so deep in at the Enclave, I feel it in my bones. Obeying. Submitting. Performing. Those are all things I’m supposed to do, which is why it’s so easy for them to compel my body into enjoying it.
So why does this all feel so confusing?
A soft snore breaks through my spiral of thoughts. The bed is massive, larger than king size, with enough space that I don’t initially recognize the large mound under the blankets a few feet away from me as another person.
I slowly drag the covers back to find Ares sprawled next to me, his body such a furnace of heat that I question his need for a blanket at all. He has one muscular arm flung over his face. His chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, light brown curls plastered to his forehead.
He looks peaceful enough that I could almost forget what I let him do to me last night. The pleasure-fixated predator he can so quickly become. For now, the hard lines of his face have softened in sleep, taking off years and some of the threat he poses.
Almost.
My gaze falls to the defined muscles of his arms and bare chest. Even in my position hovering over him, his size is a pure intimidation factor. He looks entirely capable of tearing me in half with his bare hands.
I keep my gaze on his face as I slowly back off of the bed, alert to any twitch that might signal he is waking up. When I look down at myself, I’m surprised to find that my borrowed dress is no longer wrapped around my body. Instead, I’m wearing a loose shirt that is long enough to reach my knees and can only belong to the man still snoring next to me.
I quietly move toward the door, glancing back at the bed every few seconds to ensure the distinctive lump of him hasn’t moved. His scent follows me, wafting up from the fabric of his shirt. I hate that I find being enveloped in his scent comforting, that it tempts me to crawl right back into the bed with him. Even more, I hate that he probably pulled the shirt out of his dirty clothes hamper for exactly this reason.
That’s what all Alphas feel compelled to do: mark their territory.
At least Ares chose a slightly less disgusting method than Logan did.
He had been kind for an Alpha. He hadn’t taken advantage of me when he almost certainly could have. I wouldn’t have been able to fight him off last night, even if I’d wanted to.
And it’s an open question of whether I would have wanted to.
I need to get out of this room.
Stupidly, I waste a few precious seconds looking for my dress, but it’s nowhere to be found in the open room. Risking the squeak of opening drawers or the closet door isn’t worth it, but I give a quick look under the bed and on nearby surfaces.
Another soft snore convinces me to give up the obviously fruitless search. I’ll just have to change as soon as I get back to the harem. Logan, especially, won’t appreciate me smelling so much like Ares, and I doubt he’ll care that it wasn’t my choice.
My hand grasps the doorknob and I silently twist it.
Strong arms wrap around my waist, practically lifting me off the floor as I let out an involuntary shriek.
His voice rumbles against my back, gruff with sleep. “Where do you think you’re going?”
I force my muscles to go slack, though every instinct screams to struggle against the iron bands of his arms. Running will only make this worse. Much worse.
The equation is simple and absolute. When an Omega runs, an Alpha chases.
He prompts me, voice sly. “That was a question, Omega. I expect an answer.”
My mind struggles for an excuse that won’t escalate the situation. “I wasn’t going anywhere.”
His tongue lightly traces the curve of my neck, teasing. “Then why were you at the door?”
I keep my voice light, as if I’m not entirely overwhelmed. “I need a shower and clean clothes. I probably stink.”
His chest vibrates with a low growl I feel more than hear. He buries his nose against the side of my neck, drawing in a deep breath that makes my toes curl. “You smell perfect to me.”
The heat of his bare chest against my back sends shivers down my spine. His scent wraps around me like a physical caress. It makes no sense that he can affect me this way. I don’t want to fight it, even though I know I should.
“I’m not supposed to even sleep here and now I smell like…”
“Like what?” he prompts when I trail off. His lips move against my skin like a caress as he speaks. “Go ahead and say it.”
I pull away from him and practically stumble into the door when he abruptly lets me go. When I whip around to face him, indignant, the smile on his face is mocking.
“Like we spent all night rolling around in bed together,” I snap.
His grin broadens. “We did.”
“The others won’t like it.” The protest comes out embarrassingly breathy. “Logan especially?—”
I let out a shriek of surprise when he swoops me up in his arms, bridal-style. When I struggle, he gives me a not-so-gentle pat on the ass until I go stiffly still.
“Excellent point.” Amusement colors his tone as he shifts his grip, somehow managing to hold me even tighter against him. “Let’s find out, shall we?”
“ O pen up,” Ares murmurs against my ear.
I shift uncomfortably as I balance sideways on his thigh. My face burns as he lifts another forkful of eggs to my lips. His other arm bands around my waist, keeping me firmly in place despite my squirming.
My gaze shifts to Poe, who was the first to come to breakfast after Ares carried me into the dining room. Poe had taken one look at me wearing Ares’s shirt while trapped on his lap, rolled his eyes, and made himself a cup of coffee.
It’s hard to decide between embarrassment and annoyance at his reaction. Thanks for the help, asshole.
Between the events of last night and waking up in Ares’s bed this morning, the last threads of my sanity feel frayed and entirely ready to snap. My gaze keeps moving to the doorway, alert for the moment that Logan will walk in and tear us both apart.
I’ve officially given up on attempting to please the prince. Now I’m just interested in attracting as little of his attention as possible.
I glare at Ares, angling my mouth away when he holds up a spoonful of oatmeal. “I can feed myself, you know. And sit in my own damn chair.”
The low rumble of his voice is teasing. “Can you? Because you left the gala last night before dinner was served. What did I tell you would happen if I caught you skipping meals?”
He promised me punishment and we both know it.
Frustration swells in my chest. “I left the gala because Logan forced me to go.”
Ares shrugs, the movement bumping me on his knee. “Don’t see how that matters.”
“You didn’t tell me to eat anything in the apartment last night.”
His smile is wicked. “I’ve already given you the instruction. I shouldn’t have to repeat myself.”
My gaze flashes to Poe, who only seems interested in picking out the crispiest pieces of bacon off a nearby platter. Something tells me that the carefully contrived boredom won’t withstand Ares bending me over the table and spanking my bare ass, or whatever other corrective measure he might be considering.
“Don’t make me get creative,” Ares warns gently, still smiling despite his narrowed eyes. “You won’t like how much I like it.”
The spoon is still in my mouth when a door loudly slams. My position in Ares’s lap makes it impossible for me to turn and look, but the angry stride echoing off the marble floor is unmistakable.
A second set of footsteps might be silent if not for their hurried pace.
By the time they reach the open doorway of the dining room, I’ve pulled back from Ares enough that he isn’t actively feeding me. But the powerful arm he has slung around my waist limits any more movement than that.
“I have it on very good authority that a High Inquisitor has been appointed. It’s only a matter of time before an official announcement is made—“ Cillian’s words cut off as Logan freezes in the doorway. The smaller man stops short to avoid running into his broad back.
Logan stares, nostrils flaring with each dramatic rise and fall of his chest. Golden eyes are dark with anger as our gazes meet. I stare at him in the same way I would if I encountered a wild animal on the street, too smart to run and too scared to do anything else.
A muscle jumps in his jaw as his gaze passes over me, taking in the sight of me both wrapped in Ares’s shirt and tucked in his lap.
No one moves or speaks.Poe has stopped picking through the bacon, chair creaking as he leans forward in anticipation of what might happen next. Cillian remains frozen in place behind Logan, but his glare is aimed directly at me, as if he considers this situation entirely my fault.
Ares breaks the tension with a loud yawn. “Morning, boss. Want some coffee?”
“What exactly is going on here?” Logan’s voice comes out deadly quiet.
“Breakfast, obviously.” Tipping me off his lap with a bounce of his leg, Ares turns me toward the coffee service bar with a pat on my hip. “Go make a cup for our fearless leader. Lots of cream, but no sugar.”
I follow his direction without complaint, if just because the coffee bar is on the opposite side of the dining room and that puts the long table in between Logan and me.
The prince’s gaze follows me, but he thankfully makes no move to close the distance between us.
My hands shake slightly as I prepare Logan’s coffee, measuring out more cream than I intend to due to the shaking in my hand. The weight of his stare burns into me, but I manage not to spill anything.
“What the fuck is she wearing?” Logan demands.
“One of my workout shirts,” Ares answers drolly, because the answer should be obvious. I smell like I spent the last few hours playing in his sock drawer. “I figured you didn’t want her doing any more damage to your mother’s dress.”
Logan huffs in annoyance, but some of the anger eases from his expression. “Sure, you thought I gave a fuck.”
“Your will and desires are ever at the forefront of my mind, my prince.” Ares cracks his neck as he rises to his feet and pulls out the chair at the head of the table. “Now sit the fuck down and eat some breakfast before you get hangry enough to kill us all.”
The words, though not entirely free of sarcasm, hold enough sincerity to finally break the tension.
Logan slumps into his seat with an annoyed sound, but the rage-filled energy has receded. He even manages a grunt of acknowledgement when I set his cup of coffee down, close enough without getting in actual reach of him.
When Ares’s reaching arm grabs for me, I dance back to the coffee bar on the pretense of making another one.
Cillian comes to stand at the end of the table, but doesn’t take a seat. He only addresses the prince, though I don’t miss when his gaze briefly flicks in my direction. “The king expects your presence at the small council meeting tomorrow. He wants your Omega at your side. Apparently, she made an impression.”
“So?” Logan grouses.
“She can’t go wearing that,” Cillian replies patiently.
Logan’s gaze casts around as if a new wardrobe will appear out of thin air. “Then find something for her to wear.”
Cillian’s smile is thin in his pinched face. “You never ordered a wardrobe prepared for your Omega. The harem closet was cleared out of anything appropriate long before now. She can’t wear anything that might be left in public.”
“I’ll take her shopping,” Ares cuts in, smile rakish. “I’ve always wanted an excuse to go to that Omega department store downtown.”
Logan points a long finger at him. “Absolutely not. I let you off the palace grounds with her and we’ll never see either of you again.”
Poe drains his coffee mug, pointedly not looking at me. “I’ve done my duty where court fashion is concerned.”
I shouldn’t be hurt by the brush off, but I can’t help that I am.
Logan releases an aggrieved sigh. The moment he comes to the decision is obvious on his face. I both anticipate and dread his inevitable next words.
“I’ll take her,” Cillian announces suddenly, surprising me and everyone else in the room. He addresses Logan, pointedly ignoring anyone else. “The next appointment on your agenda is in twenty minutes and you’re unavailable for the rest of the day. I’ll make sure she has something appropriate for the small council meeting.”
“Fine,” Logan replies, voice clipped. “I expect you back as quickly as possible.”
A meaningful look passes between them, too quickly to decipher its meaning.
Cillian’s voice is measured, but I don’t miss the strain of tension. “Don’t worry, your highness. I’ll make absolutely sure your Omega is everything you need her to be.”
The words are proper, but I can’t fight the sudden impression they’re actually meant to be a threat.