Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
LOGAN
I drum my fingers on the polished mahogany, watching the gilded clock tick past the meeting’s start time. Maya had been the one to suggest that she arrive fashionably late in order to make a statement, but this is getting ridiculous.
My father sits at the head of the long table and I’ve taken the position at his right hand, the second-most powerful position in the room. But the seat next to mine on my other side is empty and I don’t miss the curious glances that the king’s advisors and my brothers cast my way.
Brothers through shared DNA only. It’s difficult to see them as much more than my competition.
There are at least ten of them attending this meeting, the ones with the age and experience to potentially take over for our shared patriarch. The fact that he still has not officially named an heir sits inside of me like a raw wound.
Most of the others have pretty Omegas with vapid expressions standing obediently behind them.
Only my Omega has a seat at the table and the bitch isn’t even here to fill it.
Each one of my brothers represents one of the great houses of Melilla, who all gifted precious daughters to the harem in order to cement their allegiance with the king. With Ander gone, I’m one of the only princes left who represents the house that has ruled the capital for hundreds of years.
House Corellian, may it never die.
Choosing me as his heir would uphold a long tradition. But unrest has been rising in parts of the country, rebellious factions questioning if the king on his far-flung throne truly represents their interests. Naming one of my brothers who shares blood with his loudest critics might be the more politically expedient choice.
And if that happens, it might as well be a death sentence for me and mine.
Nikolai sits directly across from me, the friendly and open expression on his face so entirely punchable. Looking at him, it’s impossible not to picture him with his arms wrapped around Maya on the dance floor. I have to clench my thighs against the chair in an effort not to launch across the table and knock his teeth down his throat.
Nikolai’s flame-haired Omega stands closely behind him with her hands resting gently on his shoulders. Her eyes are appropriately downcast, but a smug smile teases at the corners of her lips.
Show-off.
Marcus and Stefan, both of House Ondraste, also have their Omegas behind them. Mating contracts are signed, with ceremonies pending, but neither of them has bonded yet. Though it’s only a matter of time.
Three chairs down, Xavier of House Docain practically lounges in his seat. He likes to act like the crown is already on his head, despite being the laziest person I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting.
But the Omega sitting in his lap is visibly pregnant. They’ve been bonded since last spring and wasted absolutely no time. I don’t miss the way my father keeps glancing their way without bothering to conceal his obvious approval.
The stink of my anger catches the king’s attention.
He turns to me with a sardonic smile. “And where is your Omega, my son? I thought I had made it clear I expected her to attend.”
I swallow back my annoyance. “I must beg your indulgence on her behalf. She wanted to take special care of her appearance for your majesty’s pleasure.”
Any sop to his pride will almost always ease the king’s ire. Leopold smiles widely. The thought of his son’s Omega primping for his benefit is enough to excuse her late arrival.
He smirks. “Let’s hope I’m impressed enough for her tardiness to be worth the effort.”
I hope to hell it is. That we’re waiting on an Omega at all is a watershed moment. I pray to whatever deity will listen that my father doesn’t run out of patience and order us both to be killed.
Xavier’s drawl echoes down the table. “I was under the impression this meeting began at four.”
Others grumble in echo of that sentiment, until King Leopold raises a single hand demanding silence .
“I was not aware that my schedule rested on the sufferance of anyone here,” he chides. He leans slightly closer, voice dropping low enough not to carry. “Though I find that my patience is rarely infinite.”
The murmured warning might as well be a fire alarm.
I grip the armrests of my chair, forcing myself to appear relaxed while scanning the faces around the table. Most of my competition sits here. Being embarrassed in front of them is painful to contemplate. The thought of a public shaming is excruciating.
Whispers pick back up and I don’t miss the glances shot my way. It isn’t paranoia to assume that I, and my errant Omega, have become the topic of every conversation.
Nikolai casts me a sympathetic look, with no evidence of subterfuge that should definitely be there. The man has always been too soft, never seemed to have the stomach for the violence necessary to succeed at court. His position as eldest keeps him mostly safe from the rest of us.
If he ever decides to give up the good guy act, then I would be more worried about him as a threat than almost anyone else. Luckily for me, his new Omega acts more like an Alpha than he does.
And luckily for her, I only commit violence against women when they beg me for it.
The massive doors creak open and all conversations halt.
Maya glides in wearing a properly decorous navy dress with a sweetheart neckline that hugs her curves. Her hair is artfully piled on her head with a few face-framing strands. It’s one of those styles meant to seem carefree, but likely took a hundred pins to create. Her make up is conservative, but well-done, highlighting her best features rather than creating a calculating distraction.
Heads turn to follow her progress. Several unbonded princes shift in their seats, their scents spiking with interest. I bare my teeth in their direction. She’s mine. At least until I say otherwise.
Annoyance rises as I survey her up and down. The hair and dress are nice, but not anything that might require hours of effort and wasting the king’s time. If we survive my father’s reaction, then I’ll make sure whatever I do to her next makes this embarrassment worth it.
Then she turns enough as if searching for an ideal path around the table and I get a look at her back.
My jaw drops before I think to clamp it shut.
As demure as the high neckline, cinched waist and flared skirt appear from the front, that is where propriety ends. The dress has a plunging back, revealing an expanse of flawless skin all the way down to the alluring dimpled flesh at her lower spine. Practically a scandalous amount of skin for an Omega who supposedly has a mate. But that isn’t what has the room frozen in shock, myself included.
Golden threads crisscross her back in an intricate pattern, so fine that the work had to have been done when she already had the dress on, because even the slightest tension would make the threads snap. She must have enlisted the help of a servant, then spent hours standing perfectly still while they carefully created a design as intricate and delicate as a spider’s web that is destined for destruction by the end of the day.
It takes me another few seconds to realize that the pattern is recognizable. The crest of House Corellian, my house and the house of my father, glows against her skin in shiny gold as if it’s been tattooed there.
Marking herself for them all to see. Declaring who she belongs to.
Maya approaches the king with measured steps, her eyes demurely lowered. When she reaches his side, she sinks into a graceful curtsy.
“My deepest apologies for my tardiness, your majesty.” Her voice carries just the right note of contrition, though her smile is easy. If she acts too much like she thinks she deserves to be chastised, then it’s more likely the king will decide to do just that.
The girl is a fucking natural.
Leopold beams as he signals her to rise. Beams. An expression I’ve never seen on his face before.
“Think nothing of it, my dear. It appears the juice was very much worth the squeeze,” he assures with an appreciative smile. “In fact, give us all a spin to see this lovely handiwork.”
I tamp down on a growl as the king offers her his hand. He unnecessarily steadies her so that Maya can do a graceful turn that flares the dress around her hips. The golden threads catch the light, making the design shine like it’s infused with sunlight.
Leopold’s eyes follow her every movement as Maya completes her turn. His appreciative gaze lingers far too long on the exposed skin of her back.
“Truly remarkable craftsmanship,” Leopold declares. “Do a circuit, dear one. Let everyone see the detail. I cannot believe no one else has thought to create such a lovely tribute to our house. ”
Maya gives no indication that being the focal point creates any anxiety for her. She warmly returns the greeting of each prince with a murmured word and demure smile, appropriate now that she has already greeted the king. She stops for a moment next to each of prince. The distance she keeps from them is close enough to allow inspection of the design without being improper.
But even though every second of this interaction is exactly what propriety demands, I’m barely able to keep my annoyance in check. None of them touch her, but the hungry stares I don’t miss make my blood boil.
Xavier actually reaches out to touch the golden threads, but Maya smoothly sidesteps his grasp with a tinkling laugh that makes it seem accidental.
Maybe I’ll bite off those fingers.
My father’s booming voice fills the chamber. “Well, now that we’ve all had a proper look, please take your seat so we can begin.”
Maya starts toward the empty chair beside me. I don’t question the impulse that has me snagging her wrist to pull her into my lap instead. She tenses for just a moment before melting against my chest, as if this was what she had planned from the beginning.
Perfectly trained little beast that she is.
I wrap an arm around her waist, keeping her firmly in place. Mine. The message couldn’t be clearer if I’d shouted it.
If the raised eyebrows and knowing smiles we receive discomfit her, her placid smile gives nothing away.
Leopold opens the official discussion by requesting an update on troops deployed to the outer reaches. I listen with half an ear as I settle my Omega closer in my lap.
The comfortable weight of her is a distraction. It’s hard not to hold her personally responsible for that. She has distracted me from the very moment she arrived and not in a way I appreciate.
But I’m also pleased with her and maybe feeling something similar to guilt over what occurred at the gala. Pushing her away too hard only results in her falling into the arms of one of my pack brothers.
My gaze shifts over her face. She focuses her attention on the king, giving the impression of hanging on his every word when she can’t possibly give even half a shit about troop movements in disputed territory along our eastern border.
It’s almost a shame that she’ll never have a true place of influence in court. Given her natural instincts combined with the intensive training of the Enclave, she might be the most perfect political animal that I’ve ever met.
I wonder what it would take to truly knock her off balance.
Maya doesn’t react when my hand slips under the table to slide along the outside of her thigh.
I hold her tighter when she stiffens in my lap with a softly murmured order. “Behave.”
My hand settles between her thighs. Under the shelter of the table, with the conversations of the most powerful men in Melilla buzzing all around us, my fingers slip under the crotch of her silk panties to stroke the swollen bundle of nerves there.
Her breath catches, and she stiffens. I smirk to myself.
She wanted to parade herself in front of the king and my brothers, and now she’s here. She can act like this isn’t precisely what she knew would happen, that I wouldn’t be compelled to stake my claim.
If I can’t bite my mark into her flesh like nature intended, then this is the next best thing.
We have no future. Her position here has to be temporary. She will never be my perfect little Omega princess, but I don’t have to care about that right now.
I continue to play her body like an instrument, stoking the slow flame of pleasure that tenses her muscles and forces her to exhale in soundless sighs.
My thumb strokes in a firm circle around her clit. Her knees naturally shift apart and fall to the outside of my thighs, the shameless display hidden by the voluminous fall of her skirt and table edge.
Maya doesn’t make a sound. She keeps her unwavering gaze fixed on Nikolai as he gives a mind-numbing summary of the supply lines being negatively impacted by insurgent attacks. Her upper body remains stiffly upright, with the sharp rise and fall of her chest as the only sign I’m about to shatter her to pieces.
Her ability to remain stoic is impressive. I’m almost proud. But the perverse part of me wants to drive her over the edge so completely that no one here ever forgets the spectacle, regardless of the consequences.
This has always been the challenge with her. The warring impulses to shove her away and clutch her tight enough to crawl inside her are impossible to reconcile.
But no part of me hesitates to do this.
I curl the tip of one finger inside her tight, slick channel, mindful of her virgin tightness, and stroke her where her body truly begs for attention. Finally, I have the satisfaction of hearing a gasp past her lips. One that I’ll happily teach her to stifle in the future. For now, I’ll take what I can get.
She squeezes her eyes shut, nostrils flaring, breath quickening. Her face heats and her nipples visibly harden even through the thick fabric of her dress. It’s a pity we’re stuck in this position, because I would enjoy nothing more than stripping her bare and laying her out on the table like a meal to devour.
She thrusts her hips hard enough to make the chair creak. Nikolai glances at us, but only slightly raises his eyebrow when I bare my teeth at him, and continues his speech without so much as a stutter.
The surrounding conversation grows heated. Xavier and Marcus disagree over whether the crown should respond to the rebellious elements in the nearby region of Farafal with force or persuasion. Even if my attention wasn’t focused on the girl in my lap, I wouldn’t bother contributing to the argument. I already know that Leopold has already tasked the secret police with infiltrating rebel groups in the area because I’m the one who suggested it.
My fingers thrust faster as I continue the unrelenting pressure of my thumb on the bud of her clit. Despite her ability to keep her responses tamped down, I can tell just how close she is.
Maya comes almost entirely silently. A frantic little inhale and the twitch of her belly are the only outward indication of her release. If I couldn’t feel her clench and tremor around my fingers, I might have missed it happen entirely.
I give her a soft kiss on the cheek when she collapses back against me.
“Such a good girl,” I coo in her ear, teasing. “Now, what do you have to say?”
I expect her to refuse me an answer, too mindful of attracting attention. Her flushed cheeks and blown pupils would give her away if anyone looks closely enough.
But she surprises me once again.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
It takes everything in me not to throw her over my shoulder and lock us both away long enough for her suppressants to wear off. The worst idea. So stupid that I should shove her away right now before I do something I’ll regret.
Instead, I cradle her closer and gently inhale the cherry-sweet scent of her hair.
I can’t keep her. I won’t. For reasons that I refuse to face, even in my own thoughts, at the risk of revealing more than I should to a curious onlooker. I chose her on wild impulse because the thought of another Alpha claiming her felt like a personal insult. I might have killed both her and whichever of my brothers tried.
This is all fun and games, but it’s all temporary.
It has to be.
But I can still enjoy her for however much time we have left.