Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
MAYA
I snap awake too quickly again, sending my head reeling. It’s disorienting, and it takes a breathless moment to remember where I am and what happened.
Awareness slowly filters in, more gently than it should. The sheets are soft against my bare skin. I stretch carefully and a twinge of pain in my arm firmly brings me into the present.
I’m still in Ares’s room, though the bed beside me is cold to the touch. There is nothing but darkness around the drawn drapes. It must be earlier than it feels like.
But one look at the bedside clock reveals that it’s actually much later. I’ve been asleep for more than a day.
No nightmares, at least. I can’t recall if I’ve ever had them after sleeping here, which is not exactly a thought I want to dwell on for too long.
Poe is gone, though his scent still lingers faintly in the air. The memories of what happened between us flood back, but they don’t fill me with the shame or regret I would have expected. Instead, I feel...powerful. He tried to manipulate me, to use pleasure as a weapon to extract information, but I didn’t break. I held firm. Even when he had me at my most vulnerable, I kept my secrets.
I’m going to need that strength if I run again.
Despite how I felt last night, the decision isn’t settled inside me. Without a plan and without resources, I might be damning myself to an even worse fate. I need a plan.
Especially now that I have a damn tracker in my arm.
My fingers trace over the spot where Poe implanted the little metal device. The wound barely hurts now. It was a total violation for him to do this without my permission, but that doesn’t bother me anywhere near as much as it should.
Poe’s intense desire to track my every move, his need to ensure no one steals me away, would be almost flattering if it wasn’t so toxic.
This tracker is the closest he’ll probably ever get to offering a wedding ring.
Rolling onto my side, I breathe in the mixed scents on the pillow. This moment feels like the calm before a storm. But I sense the darkness growing on some distant horizon.
I slip out of bed, my bare feet silent against the plush carpet. When I pull open the closet doors to purloin another one of Ares’s shirts, I’m surprised to find a small selection of my clothes hung up beside his.
Choosing a simple day dress in pale yellow, I try to determine how I feel about the fact that Ares appears to be moving me in. Then I decide it’s probably best not to think about anything at all.
The apartment is fairly quiet, but I follow the sound of murmured voices to the dining room.
Logan and Cillian stand over the dining room table, heads bent close together over what looks like a set of blueprints. Neither of them looks up as I enter, though Logan’s shoulders tense at my approach.
“Good morning,” I offer.
Logan’s head snaps up, his golden eyes flashing. “What are you doing out of bed? Hoping to get yourself kidnapped all over again?”
Of course, he would blame me for that and not the person who knocked me out. Not that I should expect anything less from him.
I give him a cool smile. “I think I missed dinner. Maybe I should just return to the harem.”
And maybe find a window to escape out of while I’m at it.
“The harem is still under lockdown,” Logan snaps, sounding like he wishes for nothing more than to send me away. “You’re not going anywhere.”
I briefly consider confronting him about the claiming mark, forcing him to admit that this whole thing has been a farce from the beginning. The lie might even go back to those early days of our courtship, when I was still starry-eyed and foolish enough to think I could fall in love with him.
Part of me wishes I understood how he could go from seeming so pleased with me to being so cold, but a larger part of me doesn’t care. His real Omega can deal with him. I’m beyond caring at this point.
“Where are Ares and Poe?” I ask.
Logan slams his pen down on the table. “That’s none of your damn business. You’re not a part of this pack, remember?”
The venom in his voice makes me take an instinctive step back. Before I can retreat further, Cillian clears his throat.
“They’re working with the demolition crew in the east wing,” he says, not looking up from the papers. “Assessing structural damage from the explosions.”
Logan shoots Cillian a dark look, but the beta ignores him, continuing to make notations on whatever he is reviewing.
“I’m going to check on the restoration effort in the grand hall.” Snatching up his comm unit, Logan stalks toward the door. “Cillian, join me when you’re done with those blueprints.”
Silence descends for an awkward moment after the front door slams shut. I’m not expecting much from Cillian, but he surprises me when his chin jerks toward a covered dish at the end of the table.
“Ares ordered dinner for you,” he says, sounding bored. “He wanted me to make sure you know to eat the entire thing.”
I don’t thank him because I’ve run entirely short on goodwill for Pack Logan these days. But I do sit down at the table and lift the lid to reveal a lean cut of steak with broccoli and creamy pasta on the side.
Cillian returns to studying the blueprints. “That packet next to your plate is more suppressants for the week.”
I examine the pills. Unlike the capsules he gave me before, these are pressed tablets in a sickly shade of yellow. “I’ve never seen this formulation before. ”
He grunts. “Supplier change. Beggars can’t be choosers, and the dosage is still the same.”
Cillian might not be wrong, but he is still an asshole.
I take one without bothering to chase it with water. There is no part of me willing to risk a heat cycle, not now.
I pick at the food without enthusiasm, more interested in studying the man across from me than in eating. The stark overhead lights cast harsh shadows across Cillian’s face, highlighting the sharp angles of his cheekbones and jaw.
He looks the best that he has in days, which is surprising given the current chaos. The sunken shadows are gone from under his eyes and though he is still pale, his cheeks have a healthy flush.
It shouldn’t surprise me that Cillian does best when the world is falling down around him.
His shock of white-blonde hair falls forward as he bends over the blueprints, obscuring those ice-chip eyes. Even with his currently stiff demeanor, there’s something magnetic about him that draws the eye. It’s almost unfair how attractive he is, especially for a beta.
The curve of his mouth, even twisted in concentration, is perfectly sculpted. His fingers, long and elegant, trace lines across the paper with precise movements. If he wasn’t such an absolute jerk, I might actually find myself attracted to him.
A quiet laugh escapes me at the thought.
“How much longer do you plan to stare at me?” he asks without looking up, tone only mildly irritated. “It’s becoming distracting.”
I shrug, taking another small bite of pasta. I speak with my mouth full, if only to annoy him. “Just trying to figure out how someone so pretty on the outside can be so ugly on the inside.”
His jaw clenches once before relaxing. “You’re no ray of sunshine yourself.”
I could have been if any of them had given me a fucking chance, I think. But I remind myself that it really doesn’t matter anymore.
“You’ve wanted me gone from the beginning,” I comment.
Cillian doesn’t treat it like a question because we both know it isn’t one. He also doesn’t deny it. “You have a point?”
I wonder how much he knows, if Logan’s secret isn’t actually much of one at all. Cillian is Logan’s closest advisor and has been at his side since they were children. How could he not know that his prince had already claimed an Omega?
It would explain his chilly reception of me. His primary concern has to be protecting Logan. He has been sworn to his side since before Logan was even Alpha enough to form a pack.
Cillian won’t ever by my ally, especially against the pack, but maybe he wants the same thing I do.
I casually tap the packet of suppressants. “How much of this do you think you could get at a time? A few weeks’ worth? A month? Maybe two?”
He finally looks at me, dead expression giving nothing away. “Why?”
“Because I can’t leave here unless I have enough on me to last for a while. ”
We stare at each other for a long moment. I wait for him to insist that he would never contravene Logan by aiding and abetting my escape, but he doesn’t.
Because we both know the sooner I leave here, the better off Logan will be. A mating contract is just words on a piece of paper, most useful for betas who need legal protections. The king is expecting an eventual bonding between Logan and me that can’t ever happen. If I stay here, we’re just setting ourselves up for a spectacular catastrophe.
Cillian crosses his arms over his chest, gaze flitting over me impassively, but I don’t miss the flash of relief in his gaze. “And what do you plan to do about that shiny new tracker in your arm?”
I’m not surprised that Poe didn’t hide what he did to me. For all I know, they all thought it was a great idea. It isn’t as if anyone bothers to consult the Omega before she undergoes a surgical procedure.
“I was hoping you might be able to help with that.” Bitterness colors my tone. “But I suppose cutting it out is always an option.”
“Let me see what I can do.” Cillian rolls up the blueprints to tuck them under his arm. “I suggest you keep any plans you’re making to yourself for now.”
I watch him leave with a combination of heady relief and terrible dread.
There isn’t any going back now.
I spend an hour pacing the apartment as nebulous plans churn in my head. Exhaustion finally compels me back to bed. None of the men have returned, and I’d hate for Pack Logan to think I stayed up waiting for them like a stereotypical Omega housewife.
Ares’s room still smells the best, though I don’t enjoy acknowledging that even to myself.
Not that I really have a choice.
Logan’s end of the hallway is repellant to me and I’m the opposite of tempted to go anywhere near it. Poe’s door is locked, which doesn’t surprise me. And I still have no idea where Cillian even sleeps.
A wash of heat greets me when I slip inside the empty room. Someone must have adjusted the thermostat. After changing into a light cotton nightgown, I open the doors to the balcony, but the cool wind doesn’t do much for me. I have to strip away some blankets off the bed. It doesn’t feel quite right to do it, but the alternative is to sweat right through them, and I don’t think Ares would appreciate that.
But sleep doesn’t come in the way I expect it to.
I toss and turn for at least an hour, waiting for an oblivion that just won’t arrive. It isn’t even racing thoughts that keep me awake, because my mind has gone disturbingly quiet. Chasing any particular thought feels like more effort than it could possibly be worth.
But I do find myself fixating on how scratchy the sheets suddenly feel in a way I hadn’t noticed before. The more I shift in the bed, the more like sandpaper they feel against my skin. I wrap myself up like a burrito in one of the softer throw blankets, though that only makes the oppressive heat even more unbearable.
My skin feels too tight, like it’s shrunk in the wash and doesn’t fit right anymore. I press my palms against my burning cheeks, seeking relief that doesn’t come.
Maybe I’m getting sick? The thought drifts lazily through my mind as I roll onto my back, then my side, then my stomach. No position brings comfort from the sudden ache in my joints. The air from the balcony should cool me down, but instead it feels like it’s made of static electricity, raising goosebumps across my arms and legs.
I should get up and find some pain medicine, but the thought of moving makes me whimper with sudden exhaustion. Instead, I burrow my face into Ares’s pillow, inhaling deeply. His scent helps, but only a little. The bourbon and chocolate notes that usually comfort me now make my head spin.
Water. I need water. My throat feels like I’ve swallowed dry dirt. But the kitchen is so far away and my limbs feel heavy and uncoordinated. A twist in my gut has me curling up again, panting slightly as sweat beads along my hairline.
I stumble from the bed and into the bathroom. Drinking from the faucet helps somewhat, though cupping it in my hands over and over again is exhausting. I clutch the edge of the counter, fighting off a wave of lightheadedness.
The bed feels even more unwelcoming when I return to it. Those scratchy sheets have to go and I yank them off, not really caring about Ares’s potential reaction at the destruction of his neatly made bed.
Instead of the sheets, I line the mattress with one of the thicker quilts. I pick through the pile of blankets, trying to find the ones that feel the softest and least irritating.
My hands shake as I arrange the blankets in a circle on the bed. Driven by a compulsion it doesn’t occur to me to fight, I roll the edges of the extra blankets into thick cylinders, creating walls that rise around the edges of the mattress.
Ares’s pillow goes in the center, along with two others that I tiptoe out to steal from the living room couch. The mix of scents helps ground me even as another wave of dizziness hits. I press my face into the fabric and inhale deeply.
My skin burns where it touches the air. I need more softness, more comfort. I stumble to the closet and grab one of Ares’s sweaters, adding it to the growing pile of bedding. The thick material helps block out some of the static feeling sparking around me.
I test the walls by pressing against them. Too flimsy. I add another quilt to strengthen the foundation.
When I finally crawl inside, the blankets cradle me perfectly. The walls rise up just high enough not to block the cool air from the open balcony door while keeping me cocooned in softness. I curl up in the center, surrounded by tantalizing scents and the plush bedding.
It’s still not quite right, though. I reach out and snag a pillow, wedging it behind my back for support. My now sweat-soaked throw goes over the top so it can be closest to my skin.
My body relaxes incrementally as I sink deeper into the bedding. The burning sensation under my skin eases slightly, though the room still feels stiflingly hot. At least it doesn’t feel like my skin is being scraped off anymore.
But sleep still won’t come.
My stomach churns and I regret drinking so much water on top of that huge helping of pasta at dinner. The cramps twist deeper, making me curl into a tight ball. What was I thinking, eating so much?
Another cramp seizes my lower abdomen and I groan into the pillow. The sound comes out needier than I intend and I’m glad no one is here to hear it. My nightgown twists around my thighs as I shift again, the silk suddenly feeling like burlap against my hypersensitive skin.
I don’t even realize I’ve fallen into fitful sleep when I’m abruptly woken by the feel of something cool touching my forehead. I lean into the sensation with a desperate moan. The relief is instant but fleeting.
“Shhhh, it’s just me.” Ares’s deep voice rumbles through the darkness. “You’re burning up, little one.”
I try to focus on his face hovering above me, but my vision keeps sliding sideways. His hand feels like blessed ice against my skin.
“Do you feel sick? How long have you been like this?” His other hand brushes sweat-dampened hair back from my face.
“Just hot,” I manage to croak, though the touch of his hand provides more relief than anything else I’ve tried.
“I should call the doctor.” Ares pulls back and I whimper at the loss of his cool touch. “Shit, the lockdown. No one’s allowed in or out of the royal wing right now. Let me see if I have anything for a fever. ”
His weight shifts on the bed and panic spikes through me. “Don’t go.”
I wrap my arms and legs around Ares, pulling him down beside me with a strength that probably startles him as much as it does me. The cool fabric of his shirt feels heavenly against my burning skin. His solid weight grounds me, making the spinning room go completely still for the first time in hours.
“Maya, wait.” He tries to pull back, but I cling tighter. “You’re probably sick. We can’t be doing this…”
I press closer, rubbing my cheek against his chest. “Please stay. You make it better.”
“You’re not thinking clearly.” His muscles are tense, but he doesn’t attempt to break free. “Let me up so I can help you properly.”
I arch against him, seeking more of that blissful coolness. My entire body thrums with the need to be closer, to sink into his strength and never surface. I rip at his shirt until he strips it off and I toss it onto the growing pile of his clothes already on the bed. “You are helping. Don’t go anywhere.”
“Maya...” His voice comes out strained as I grind against the front of him. “This isn’t what you need right now, sweetheart.”
I cut off his protests by rolling my hips against his, desperate for relief from the fire consuming me. His sharp intake of breath echoes in the darkness.
“Please,” I whimper, not even sure what I’m begging for anymore. Just that I need him — his touch, his scent, his presence — more than my next breath. “Please, touch me. ”
“You’re playing with fire, here.” Ares gathers my body closer with one arm around my back. His other hand slides across my breast, stroking my nipple through the fabric sweat-stuck to my skin. He buries his face in my neck and groans when I settle further into his lap and writhe against him. “Fuck, what am I saying? You are the fire. Fucking burning me up.”
I don’t fight when he rolls me to my back, fingers gathering up the hem of my nightgown and pushing it up my thighs. He doesn’t stop until the fabric is pushed high enough to reveal my bare chest.
I press deeper into the cushion as his mouth lowers to my skin, twisting at the intense feeling. His lips are soft against my nipple, his tongue teasing my hardened peak. He guides my knees up around his waist, shifting until he’s positioned between my legs, pressing his arousal against my cotton-covered center.
The languid pace increases quickly, deliberate tenderness morphing into something harsher. But the electric jolts where he rocks against me make it hard to protest. I clutch at his shoulders, and his muscles flex under my palms as he moves against me.
“This turns you on, doesn’t it?” he pants. “You enjoy feeling me against you.”
Ares maintains the fabric barrier between us, making no move to undress either of us any further. His restraint surprises me. He could push further. At this moment, that’s all I want him to do.
In this moment, it’s impossible to recall why I haven’t fucked him a hundred times already .
I tilt my chin in agreement, lifting my hips. “So much.”
His expression gleams with fierce pleasure. He lowers his gaze to watch our bodies meet. “Damn, I’m dying to take you. You’d be so ready for me.”
I look down, my stomach tightening at the sight. His bulge practically pulses against the fabric of his pants, fighting to be free with as much desperation as I currently feel.
Groaning, he continues to grind against me, rubbing my clit at the perfect angle to make me moan. “Fuck, it’s all I can think about sometimes. Having you completely. Makes me lose my mind.” His words tumble out now, caught in the same haze driving our movements. “Want to claim you. Hear you cry out for me.” His lips hover above mine as his jaw tenses. “Say it,” he commands, his rhythm growing desperate and rough.
My nails bite into his back as I chase the peak. The tension coiling inside nearly bursts, making my legs quiver against him. Arousal alone keeps me trapped beneath him, unable to do anything but chase the ultimate terminus of this pleasure.
“Say it,” he demands, bucking harder. Sending frissons of pleasure like lightning down my spine. “Say my name, Maya.”
Release crashes over me like a wave. My gasped, “Ares,” sounds barely human as I buck frantically against him.
The orgasm does nothing to take the edge off of my burning need for more, more, MORE. I’ve barely come down from the high before I frantically push at the waistband of his pants, while he encourages me to slow down with a breathless chuckle .
I whimper in protest when Ares’s comm unit chirps, interrupting the heated moment. He pulls back slightly, keeping one hand firmly on my hip while checking the device.
“It’s Poe.” Ares’s forehead creases with concern. “Something’s wrong.”
“Ignore it,” I plead, trying to pull him back down. My skin feels like it’s on fire in all the places he is no longer touching me.
“I can’t, baby girl. This is probably important.” He catches my wrists and pins them gently above my head with one hand. I squirm beneath him as he answers the call. “What’s the situation?”
Poe’s voice comes through garbled but with a strain of urgency. Ares’s expression darkens as he listens.
“I’ll be right there,” he says finally, ending the call.
“Don’t go.” I wrap my legs around his waist, trying to keep him in place.
“You’re making this very difficult,” he chuckles, easily breaking my hold. His palm cups my cheek when I release a plaintive whimper. “I need to help Poe with something. I’ll be back as soon as I can.
When I try to follow him out of bed, he gently but firmly pushes me back into the pile of blankets. “Oh, no, you don’t. You’re staying right here where it’s safe.”
“But—”
His eyes glint with playful warning. “Don’t make me tie you to the bed.”
I know it’s a joke, but the words are like a splash of cold water on my libido. He doesn’t seem to notice my frozen expression as he kisses my forehead before retrieving his shirt and striding away.
As soon as the door clicks shut behind Ares, the burning sensation returns full force. I curl into a ball, pressing my face into the pillow that still holds traces of his scent. But it’s not enough. Not nearly enough.
My skin prickles with renewed heat, making me kick off the sweat-soaked nightgown. I grab frantically for the shirt Ares was just wearing, but of course he took it with him. A frustrated whine escapes my throat.
I burrow deeper into my carefully constructed fortress of blankets and pillows, trying to recreate the comfort I felt moments ago. But something still feels missing. Wrong.
I need more softness. More scent. More...everything.
The nest needs more.
Wait, a fucking minute. The nest?
Scrambling up, I stare down in horror at the pile of blankets and clothing piled up around me. The compulsive gathering of soft things. The desperate need for specific scents. The burning skin and aching emptiness.
“No, no, no.” I press my palms against my eyes as the terrifying reality sets in. “This can’t be happening.”
But there’s no denying it now. I’m in heat. A heat that shouldn’t be possible with the suppressants Cillian gave me.
The suppressants.
My stomach lurches.
Did he give me fake pills?
Did he set me up?
It makes a horrible sort of sense. Cillian has to protect Logan’s interests. If I go into a spontaneous heat and another Alpha claims me, no one will ever know that Logan was never capable of bonding me in the first place.
The desperate fire raging inside of me easily morphs into rage.
I’m going to kill him.