Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
MAYA
I float alongside Logan through the marble corridors, my steps light and graceful despite the lingering tremors coursing through my body. The council meeting replays in fragments — the press of Logan’s thigh against mine under the table, fighting my body’s own impulses to whine and whimper in pleasure.
Then coming harder than I ever have before.
I don’t understand why he would do that. Or why he seems so relaxed and at ease, without the simmering anger he perpetually seems to feel toward me. That confusion might be worse than dealing with the worst of his mood swings.
“You carried yourself beautifully in there,” Logan murmurs, his hand resting at the small of my back as he guides me out of the council chamber. “Like you were born to this.”
I manage a weak smile. My skin still tingles where he touches me. I feel tightly wound enough to jump out of my skin. I try to remain cognizant of our audience despite the turmoil of my thoughts.
The embarrassment over being jerked off in public is second only to the realization that at least one of the other princes noticed what was happening. Nikolai’s well-timed throat clearing as I came couldn’t have been an accident. The friendly wink he gave me as Logan swept me out of the room was only more evidence.
What else is there to say?
“Thank you, Alpha.”
Logan’s smile widens as presses a soft kiss to my forehead, shocking me once again. This is a side of the prince I’ve never seen before, a soft side full of amiable smiles and genuine compliments because he genuinely appreciates what I can provide to him.
Exactly what I always dreamed of one day having with an Alpha.
A trade advisory panel follows the small council meeting, which I am also expected to attend. Thankfully, Logan actually allows me to sit in a chair of my own, though I would have been even happier standing behind him in a slightly less conspicuous position like the other Omegas.
His hand remains on my back during the meeting, moving in steady and calming circles no matter how heatedly he addresses his father’s advisors. I pay close attention to the discussion only because the alternative is getting lost in my own thoughts, a place I truly do not want to be right now. When I whisper a suggestion for how to counter the L’Angelian trade minister’s desire to increase tariffs, Logan listens intently to me before repeating my words verbatim to the panel.
A warmth settles in my chest as I let myself imagine a future I never seriously contemplated. Sitting by his side as queen would be so much more than flaunting myself in pretty dresses and ordering servants around like a lot of the Omegas at the Enclave seemed to assume.
There is actual power here, enough to change the world for the better.
The day blurs into a parade of faces and voices — trade ministers, military advisors, noble petitioners. I perch beside Logan through it all, back straight and hands folded, the perfect picture of an Omega consort. He keeps finding excuses to touch me, adjusting my hair or brushing imaginary lint from my shoulder, his fingers trailing in patterns along my arm.
“I had no idea how useful an Omega could be outside the bedroom,” Logan murmurs between meetings, expression slightly embarrassed. “Did you notice how Minister Chen’s aggression softened when you tilted your head just so? Usually, he is a total hard ass about making concessions, but he allowed a two percent tax increase on peak energy use without batting an eye.”
I had noticed, actually, but still give him a wide-eyed look of surprise. “I assume that works out better for you.”
He gives my shoulder a warm squeeze. “You have absolutely no idea. We’ve been running at a deficit with the energy budget for years. You’re shaping up to be my secret weapon.”
Logan’s praise washes over me, almost as intoxicating as the lingering memory of pleasure still pulsing through my body.
I might actually be losing my mind.
Despite the temporary boost of his praise, my nerves have entirely frayed. The effort it takes to keep an appropriately close-lipped smile on my face and maintain social graces while pretending to care about this political theater is taking its toll. If I so much as slouch for a moment, the fine threading at the back of my dress will snap. It doesn’t help that I had to wake up hours before dawn, so one of the palace seamstresses had enough time to create a last-minute work of art on my back.
By the time we make it back to the apartment for the evening, I’m exhausted, confused and somehow still post-orgasmic in a way that makes it difficult to walk in a straight line.
I follow Logan into the dark interior of the living room, my thundering heart seeming somehow loud enough to be audible in the quiet space.
My voice echoes off the high ceilings. “Where is everyone?”
“Out. Hiding. Pretending to do work so I don’t give them something actually important to do.” Logan shuts the door with a loud slam. He chuckles when the sound makes me jump. “We have some time before dinner if you’d like to relax.”
Even though I’ve been with Logan all day without the buffer of his pack between us, being alone with him is something else entirely. The space feels different without the others around. More intimate.
More dangerous.
I’m acutely aware that I haven’t been truly alone with him since that night in the alcove during the gala .
Early evening sun streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long shadows across the marble floors and tinting the room with eerie half-light.
The click of his shoes on the marble floor echoes in the silence as Logan strides toward the living room.
“You must be uncomfortable in that dress,” he says, his golden eyes raking over me. “All of that exquisite embroidery might have to be cut off of you. Let me help.”
“I thought I’d keep this on until after dinner, so I don’t have to change again.”
“Dinner is hours away.” He takes a step toward me, smirking slightly when I take a matching step back. “We should get you into something more comfortable.”
His dark smile makes my breath catch. There’s something predatory in the way he looks at me now, like a cat that’s cornered its prey. The memory of his fingers sliding under my skirt during the council meeting sends a fresh wave of heat through my body.
“I...” My voice comes out embarrassingly breathy, so I clear my throat and try again. “I don’t have anything to wear here. All my clothes are in the harem.”
Darkness flickers in his gaze. “Wear something of mine. You didn’t have a problem prancing around in one of Ares’s shirts.”
I swallow hard against the sudden lump in my throat, casting around for a response that won’t get this dress ripped off of me in the next five minutes. “The lace is so pretty and took so long to create. I’d like to wait as long as possible before ruining it.”
Logan’s expression softens. He uses a soft hand on my arm to guide me to turn so my back is facing him. I sense the heat of his gaze like licks of flame across my skin as he stares at the mark of his house on my back.
“I’m going to jump into the shower,” he says abruptly. When I risk a glance back at him, he gives me a strained smile and jerks his chin towards the living room. “Relax. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Logan’s heated gaze follows me, breaking only when he finally leaves the room. I sink into the plush leather couch, my legs trembling beneath me. The embroidered House Corellian crest on my back seems to burn into my skin — a constant reminder that I’ve marked myself as property. My fingers trace idle patterns on the leather as I try to sort through the chaos in my head.
The sound of running water echoes from down the hall, followed by a deep, masculine grunt that makes my stomach clench. Heat floods my cheeks as I realize what Logan must be doing in there. Another groan reaches my ears and I squeeze my thighs together, fighting the urge to squirm.
I need to focus. To remember why I came here. The palace offers protection, resources, a chance to have some version of the life I’ve prepared for my whole life. I didn’t come here for...whatever this growing attraction is.
But the memory of Logan’s gentle touches and displays of obvious pride throughout the day wars with my resolve. The way he actually listened to my suggestions during his meetings, how proud he seemed of my contributions. For the first time, he treated me like a true partner rather than just an ornament.
Would it be so terrible to let myself want this? To be his princess? His queen, even? The thought sends an electric thrill down my spine.
Another low moan from the shower breaks through my musings. My breath catches as the sound seems to vibrate through my entire body. I press my palms flat against the cool leather, trying to ground myself.
I’m supposed to be resisting him. There are good reasons, but with each passing second, those reasons grow hazier and less convincing. I’ve already signed my body over to Logan and his pack, agreed to provide almost anything they want from me. It’s only a matter of time before one of them takes that next step and claims me completely. I’ve been mentally preparing myself for it from the moment I arrived at the palace.
Why am I still resisting this?
Why am I delaying the inevitable?
Especially when I think I might want this too.
I rise from the couch before I can second-guess myself. My feet carry me down the hallway toward the sound of running water, heart hammering against my ribs. Steam billows out from under the bathroom door, carrying Logan’s rich scent with it.
The door handle turns easily under my trembling fingers. No lock. Practically an invitation.
I open the door, a gust of humid air immediately clinging to my skin and making the elaborate dress feel even more constricting. Through the frosted glass of the shower door, I can make out Logan’s silhouette — all hard planes and powerful muscles .
Whatever else I might think of him, Logan has always been a perfect physical specimen of Alpha male.
He doesn’t notice me enter. His head tilts back under the spray, likely obscuring the sound of the door swinging open on oiled hinges. Water cascades down his broad shoulders and perfectly sculpted back. My mouth goes dry at the sight. I’ve never seen an Alpha fully naked before, and Logan’s body is breathtaking.
My gaze traces the powerful lines of his shoulders, admiring how the water highlights every ridge of muscle. But then I notice something that makes my blood run cold.
The steam suddenly feels suffocating. I stumbled back through the still open door, desire entirely snuffed out by a rising tide of panic. My hip bumps the counter and I freeze, terrified he’ll hear me, but the sound of running water covers my clumsy exit as I flee the bathroom.
There, on his left shoulder blade, was a mark I’d recognize anywhere. The distinctive starburst pattern of scar tissue, slightly raised and silvery against his tanned skin, long healed but permanent.
A claiming bite.
T he dinner arranged for tonight isn’t as elaborate or well-attended as the gala, but it’s a close thing. Many of the ministers and advisors I encountered today are here, including some I don’t recognize. At least a dozen royal princes, along with their packs and Omegas, occupy seats at two long tables in the ballroom. A much smaller, but slightly elevated, table has been set up at the center of the room where the king sits alone.
There are enough people here that my solemn silence goes unnoticed in the constant din of active conversation. When I am I forcibly engaged, I’m barely aware of what I’m saying or doing, relying on instinct to keep from making a fool of myself.
I push food around on my plate, feigning at eating. Of course, Ares notices my lack of appetite. He continues to pile choice cuts of meat and the freshest-looking vegetables on my plate until I’m forced to take a few bites just to get him to stop.
“You’ve barely touched anything.” Ares slides a piece of buttered bread onto my plate. “Remember what I said about skipping meals?”
He sounds more concerned than demanding, which just makes me feel worse.
“I’m just tired from all the meetings today.” The lie tastes bitter on my tongue.
Poe dark eyes narrow at me from across the table, though his frown lifts somewhat when he catches me looking at him. His gaze falls to the golden pendant in the shape of the Corellian sigil cradled on my chest, a perfect match for the lace pattern gleaming on my back. He had gifted it to me just before dinner, admitting to have liberated it from the former queen’s apartment with a boyish smile.
Maybe I should play drinking games with them more often. They might not be drunk anymore, but the good mood of that night has lasted.
It helps that they only seem to remember the best parts .
Even Cillian had shot me a questioning gaze when I sunk into my seat, looking very much as if he wanted to ask me if something was wrong. It’s the most sympathetic I’ve seen him appear, particularly noteworthy as he doesn’t look particularly well himself. There are dark circles under his eyes, as if he didn’t sleep well the night before.
Their kindness pierces my chest like a knife. Each gentle word and thoughtful gesture is another stab. They’re treating me like I actually have any chance of becoming a part of their pack.
All I can think about is what I saw in the bathroom.
Do they know?
My gaze shifts briefly to Logan, who lounges in his seat as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. For all I know, he doesn’t.
I briefly wonder if I’ve made a mistake. In his youth, Logan had served in the military during the most recent uprising. That mark could be a battle scar. I’ve seen holovids of the way Alphas spar. Even when it’s just for fun, blood and broken bones are the norm.
Except, no. The placement, the depth, the distinct silvery sheen caused by puncturing the gland under the skin. I know what I saw. It couldn’t have been anything else but a claiming mark, pressed into his flesh by an Omega in the throes of a heat cycle.
Somewhere, there must be a woman with a matching mark from him.
Who is she?
Better question, where is she?
I’ve never heard of a single case of a bonded Alpha and Omega being able to live separately. The bond compels physical proximity or the health of both suffers.
It’s impossible that Logan has been secretly spending time with another Omega. I would have smelled it on him. If Logan had even come close to bonding another Omega in the past, I would have heard rumors about it among the court. That isn’t the sort of thing you can hide. There are watchful eyes everywhere in the palace.
If he has a mate, being separated from her for more than a few days should drive them both absolutely insane
Though Omegas are typically affected by the distance more severely, often not surviving the death of their mate. Like King Leopold, Alphas usually survive the broken bond, but they probably won’t ever be physically incapable of mating another Omega.
Perhaps Logan quietly mated an Omega without a public spectacle, and she died before the crown could make an official announcement.
Maybe he killed her.
That dark thought sits with me through the rest of this, thankfully, short dinner.
I’m about to whisper to Logan that I’m not feeling well and beg permission to leave early when King Leopold rises from his seat. The scrape of his chair against the floor silences all conversation instantly.
“My family. My friends. My loyal subjects.” The king’s voice carries easily across the ballroom. “Tonight we celebrate new beginnings, but I must first address the shadow that hangs over our great kingdom.”
My fingers clench around my napkin as Leopold’s jovial expression turns grave, an inexplicable feeling of foreboding washing over me.
“The greatest tragedy since the death of my beloved wife occurred with the loss of my son, Prince Ander.” Leopold’s voice cracks with emotion. “A son I had intended to name as my heir.”
Gasps ripple through the assembly. I feel Logan stiffen beside me.
“To honor Ander’s memory and ensure justice is served, I have made the investigation into his death my highest priority.” Leopold straightens his shoulders. “To that end, I have appointed a High Inquisitor with full authority to question anyone, access any records, and go anywhere within the palace grounds.”
My heart pounds against my ribs as Leopold gestures across the room. “Please welcome High Inquisitor Sionis Thane.”
A figure rises from the far table, and my blood turns to ice in my veins. Those cold, calculating eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. Black-gloved hands clasped lightly at his waist that would not so much as twitch when I screamed while hooked up to his medical devices. The slight smile that haunted my nightmares.
The doctor.
I’d recognize him anywhere, even here in the last place I expected to ever find him.
My chest constricts as memories of steel tables and surgical implements flash through my mind. The phantom pain of scalpels slicing into my neck makes me dizzy.
The monster who tortured me now has unlimited access to the palace .
Black spots dance in my vision. I grip the edge of the table to keep from sliding out of my chair. The doctor’s gaze sweeps the room, not lingering on anyone in particular and passing over me without so much as a blink of recognition. I am frozen in fear, praying that his gaze won’t return to me.
I have to get out of here.
“Logan, I’m not feeling well.” I keep my voice low, fighting to control the tremor. “May I please return to the harem?”
Logan’s fingers dig into my thigh under the table when I move to rise, his expression incredulous. “We can’t leave until the king signals the end of dinner. You should know that.”
I nod mutely, my eyes darting around the room. The doctor has disappeared into the crowd of mingling nobles. The thought of him moving freely through these halls, potentially discovering my presence here, makes my skin crawl.
Ares leans closer on my other side. “Everything okay?”
All I can offer is a watery smile because if my mouth opens, I doubt anything more than a scream will come out.
A hush suddenly falls over our section of the table. King Leopold approaches with measured steps, his ceremonial cape trailing behind him.
Logan and the others rise from their seats as Leopold reaches us, but the signal from my brain has short-circuited. No matter how many times I tell my body to move, it remains frozen in place.
“Stand up,” Logan hisses through clenched teeth.
He wrenches me up with a hand under my arm, forcing me to stand on shaking legs. I keep my eyes fixed on the marble floor.
Blood is rushing to my ears. My heart is racing so hard that it will burst if it pumps any harder. Before this moment, I didn’t know it was possible to literally die of fear.
“Prince Logan.” Leopold’s voice carries warmth. “And the lovely Maya. I trust you enjoyed the feast?”
Words stick in my throat. I manage a weak curtsy, nearly stumbling over my own feet.
“Good evening, father,” Logan smoothly interjects. “I fear we may have overtaxed Maya today with council meetings. She is still getting used to such a demanding schedule.”
I can barely look at either of them, my gaze fixed on the shifting crowd around us, searching for that dreaded face. I can’t afford to care about anything else.
Leopold tuts softly. “You must take better care of your Omega, my son. Perhaps she should retire early to rest?”
“Of course, Father.” Logan’s grip on my arm tightens painfully as Leopold moves on.
The moment we’re alone, Logan rounds on me. “What is wrong with you? You can’t embarrass me in front of the king like this, especially now.”
“Hey man, lay off,” Ares murmurs. “Something is obviously wrong.”
Tears are streaming down my cheeks, but I only notice when the sting of salt hits my lips.
I’m not expecting sympathy from him, not now when I understand what might really be happening here. But the derisive look on Logan’s face is still painful to see.
“Enough.” Logan’s eyes flash dangerously. “ Return to the harem. Now. I don’t want to look at you anymore tonight.”
Poe murmurs my name as I spin away, but I can only shake my head in response.
The walls close in on me. Darkness grows at the edges of my vision.
I have to leave.
I have to escape.
Because staying here might get me killed.