Bonds of Hate

Chapter 30

Chapter Thirty

MAYA

P acking a bag is more difficult than I thought it would be. I find plenty of my new clothing in Ares’s closet, but none of it is appropriate for absconding into the night. A girl in a ballgown is going to be pretty damn conspicuous.

Anger fuels me as grab what I can and shove it in a duffel bag I find under the bed. Enough anger to keep most of the fear at bay.

Now that I recognize the impending signs of heat, it’s easier to gauge how much time I have before the symptoms are fully blown. A few hours, maybe. Hopefully, enough time to get out of the palace and spend the dangerous days of my fertility cycle somewhere safe.

I know there are underground shelters, places where Omegas who don’t welcome Alpha attention can go when they’re in heat. Finding one won’t be easy and being out of the streets in the early stages of heat is very dangerous, but I don’t really have a choice .

I can’t stay here surrounded by people I can’t trust. I won’t.

I just wish there was time to confront Cillian and maybe get one of his balls as a consolation prize.

Instead, I slip the necklace of Midale’s that Poe gave me into the bag. I won’t pawn it if I don’t have to, but I have no idea what it might cost me to find safe shelter.

The apartment is empty and quiet as I slip into the hallway with the duffel bag slung over my back. My footsteps are nearly silent on the marble floor, but I wince with every squeak.

I come to a sudden stop in the doorway of the living room. The duffel bag suddenly feels like it weighs a thousand pounds on my shoulder.

The lamp beside the couch casts a dim glow across Logan’s sprawled form. An empty bottle of bourbon lies tipped over on the coffee table next to him.

Logan’s head lolls toward me, his golden eyes glazed.

I freeze in place as we both silently stare at each other. Lamplight casts half of his face in a sick yellow shade of light that forcibly reminds me of the fake suppressant I took.

Muscles clench low in my belly, and I have to resist the urge to vomit.

“C’mere.” He pats the couch beside him, missing the cushion entirely.

My heart pounds against my ribs as I take a careful step backward. I’ve never seen him this drunk before. “I should really…”

“That’s an order.” The words come out thick, but the Alpha command still rings clear. “ Here. Now. ”

Another wave of warmth rolls through me. Proximity to any Alpha, even one who is already claimed, is a bad idea as my heat threatens. I’m significantly more susceptible to any suggestion right now. For all I know, Logan doesn’t even intend to compel me with his voice, but the swimming hormones in my brain make it too hard to resist any direct order from an Alpha.

My feet move of their own accord, dragging me closer to him. I have enough presence of mind to let the duffel bag silently fall behind one of the armchairs as I approach. If he notices that I have bag packed, Logan doesn’t comment on it as I perch on the edge of the couch next to him.

“You smell different.” He leans in, nose brushing my neck. He grips my shoulder when I instinctively lean away. “Sweet. Like... candy. Cherry-flavored sugar.”

I try to edge away, but his grip tightens. “Logan, you’re drunk.”

His eyes narrow as he blearily focuses on my face. “Running away again? That’s what you do best, isn’t it Maya? Run when things get complicated. Well, you can’t run back to the harem now.”

I glare at him, genuinely offended. Because I didn’t just run for nothing. From the very beginning, he had been determined to chase me away.

My voice is pure silk. “Does your actual mate know you call her a complication?”

Logan’s hold on becomes bruising. “What did you say?”

The words tumble out before I can stop them. Maybe it’s the heat making me reckless, or maybe I’m just tired of all the lies. “Who is she? Does she know that you signed a mating contract with someone else?”

He glares at me. “There is no other woman.”

“Then why is there a claiming mark on your shoulder?” I spit the question at him. “I saw it when you were in the shower.”

For a second, he just stares at me, seemingly at a loss for words. Then he laughs, and the sound is ugly. Bitter. “You think you know everything, don’t you?” His hands tighten painfully on my arms when I attempt to wiggle out of his hold. “Always watching, always calculating. But you don’t know shit.”

He moves with shocking speed and accuracy for someone so drunk. His mouth crashes against mine, cutting off any protests I might have managed in my own altered state. The weight of his body pins me to the couch cushions.

My hands press against his chest, but the touch of his skin sends electricity racing through me.

Alpha.

Heat is coming and the desperate Omega in me doesn’t care that I hate him. Need simmers under my skin, making every point of contact between us feel like sparks of electricity. My body has no choice but to betray me, melting into his touch even as my mind screams in protest.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to let Logan fuck me through a heat. He can’t bond or impregnate me, not with another Omega’s claim already on him. Once it’s done, I’ll happily take the first chance I get to escape the palace and him forever.

Logan breaks the kiss, pressing his face into the curve of my neck. His breath fans hot against my skin. “Gods, you smell amazing.” His voice is rough, desperate. “Like nothing I’ve ever...” He inhales deeply. “Most incredible thing I’ve ever smelled in my life.”

I turn my face away, fighting against the fog of hormones clouding my thoughts. My Omega screams at me to strip off my clothes and beg him to fuck me. “Logan, stop. You’re drunk and you don’t want to do this. Not with me.”

“Shh.” His fingers thread through my hair, holding me in place. “Just let me taste you.”

My heart pounds so hard I’m sure he can feel it where our chests press together. Impending heat turns the dial to maximum on every feeling, every sensation. It makes everything too intense, his touch, his scent, the weight of him holding me down. I can’t possibly be expected to think clearly through any of it.

Logan has firmly taken control. His hands slide over mine, pinning them to the couch on either side of my head as he hovers over me. His teeth score my neck, fingers biting into my hips as his hips grind against mine.

Some part of me should be able to resist. He is controlling, unstable, and he’ll never be willing or able to give me what I want. But it’s harder to remember all those reasons when he has his thigh pressed against my core, urging me to buck against him with his hands on my hips. Harder still when he traces the shell of my ear with his tongue, whispering affirmations of how alluring I smell.

With a cramping wave in my belly, slick coats my inner thighs.

His hand moves immediately to play in the mess, fingers dipping in that slickness that betrays my need as he groans with pleasure. “Such a good Omega. Look at how wet you are.”

I squirm, wanting to get closer and yet still half-heartedly turning my face away. My body moves of its own volition, driven mad by the need for a release that I know is almost within my grasp.

Desire clouds my better judgement, leaving no room for logic or consequences. The Omega in me desperately wants an Alpha and, with heat, any of them will do. In this moment, I want Logan with a hormone-fueled desperation. The feeling won’t last forever, but still long enough to do something I’ll very much regret later.

And Logan, damn him, can easily sense my need even in his drunk state.

Slick fingers circle my clit, and I buck against his hand with a moan.

He growls his approval against my neck, grinding his cock against my slit with a roll of his hips. “Tell me how much you need this.”

His thumb presses at my entrance, but doesn’t push past the sensitive inner lips. Waiting for an answer that I can’t bear to give.

“Please...I need…Logan, please!” Words stutter into a whimper me as his thumb pushes just a little further inside, enough to make me keen with longing.

“Please what?” he prompts against my ear, teeth scraping gently against my neck. “Say it. Beg me to fuck you.”

I open my mouth to do just that. Resisting the force of his need combined with my own simply isn’t possible.

Logan’s weight suddenly collapses on top of me with a grunt. His body goes completely slack, pinning me to the couch.

“What—” I push at his shoulders, trying to wiggle free. Confused, I look up to see Cillian standing over us, holding a now broken lamp from the side table.

“Get up,” Cillian orders, his voice tight with urgency. “Hurry.”

He helps me by rolling Logan’s unconscious form enough that I can slip out from underneath the unconscious mass of Alpha. I scramble to my feet and yank my dress back into place. My heart hammers against my ribs as I stare at the beta in shock.

“Did you just knock him out?”

“He’ll be fine, just a headache when he wakes up.” Cillian tosses the lamp base aside and wipes off his sweat-soaked brow. “You need to follow me. Now.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you, not after you fed me fake suppressants.”

“I didn’t—“ he cuts himself off with a curse. “We don’t have time for this.”

I force myself to study him despite the haze slowly overtaking my logical thought processes. His eyes dart back and forth, body tense with an almost frantic energy as he edges toward the hallway.

“Why would you help me?” I ask.

“Poe and Ares are already on their way back and Logan won’t be out for more than a few minutes,” he challenges, instead of answering the question. “You really want them to find you like this?”

I cast a glance at Logan’s collapsed form on the couch. In a few minutes, he is going to wake up drunk, angry and looking for me. Another cramp twists through me and a bead of fluid drips down the inside of my thigh. It’s too late to run. I’m probably only minutes away from full-blown heat. “Fine.”

He surprises me by heading deeper into the apartment instead of to the exit. I stumble after him. We go down the long hallway past all the bedrooms until we reach a door that I belatedly realize is familiar.

“The training room?”

“Repurposed training room,” he corrects, gesturing for me to proceed him down the rickety stairs. “In the old days, every royal’s apartment was outfitted to have a panic room for their Omega’s heat. Thick walls, no windows and a door strong enough to withstand even the strongest Alpha in a rampage. Obviously, we haven’t had a need for that until now.”

I huff out a shallow breath as another wave of painful need rolls through me. “So what’s the plan? Lock me in here until it passes?”

“Something like that.”

Halfway down the stairs, I hear the door slam shut. Turning back, I watch as he does up an impressive sequence of locks and then swings down a heavy metal bar.

Locking us in here together.

He brushes past as I stand frozen, deliberately skirting me in a way that doesn’t require any part of his body to come into contact with mine.

“You’re staying, too?”

“Obviously,” he replies drolly. When I continue to stare at him, he rolls his eyes. “Not for that. Believe it or not, I’m just trying to help you. ”

“Could have fooled me with those fake suppressants.”

“I didn’t give you fake suppressants. My normal dealer said he got a new supplier. It didn’t occur to me to question it until it was already too late.” He runs a hand through his pale hair, clearly agitated. Blankets are piled up in the center of the room. He takes an armful and dumps them on an exercise mat near the wall. “This is your side. Stay on yours and I’ll stay on mine. There is some food and water in the cabinet there. Hopefully, it’s enough to last.”

Cillian takes the leftover blankets and drags them to the far side of the room. Ignoring me, he methodically arranges them on an exercise mat of his own. When a pillow falls over, destroying the tent-like structure he’d been making, he lets out a high-pitched sound of frustration.

Baby powder and lily scent the air.

I force myself to look at him. Really, look at him. His slim frame, lithe with muscle and normally elegant in its movements, practically vibrates with nervous energy. The plain white t-shirt he wears is damp with large circles of sweat and sticks to his skin. The fine strands of his pale hair, usually perfectly arranged, stick up in different directions as if he’s been compulsively running his hands through it.

Then I notice the packet of pills tossed in the corner, yellow tablets scattered on the floor like he’d thrown them across the room.

Puzzle pieces I’d noticed and discarded over the last few days slowly fall into place, forming a picture very different from the one I’d seen on the box. All the evidence had been there, obvious if I’d been more willing to accept the impossible.

I don’t even mean to say it out loud, but the sheer shock of the realization compels the words out of me.

“You’re an Omega.”

T he silence has lasted long enough for both of us to build a moderately acceptable nest and settle into it before I finally feel compelled to speak. Cillian had studiously ignored my outburst about his designation in favor of lining up a dozen water bottles at the edge of his mat, studying them on his hands and knees to ensure perfect spacing between each one.

Without an Alpha to trigger it, some symptoms of my heat have faded enough to be ignored. My head isn’t exactly clear, but I can at least think about something aside from how good it would feel to take a knot right now. This is only a calm before the inevitable storm and won’t last long, but I can try to enjoy it while it does.

I continue to study Cillian as he makes a point of ignoring me. “Everyone says there is no such thing as male Omegas.”

His voice is lower pitched than normal, and more exhausted than angry. “Everyone needs to talk to my fucking hormones, then.”

“Is this your first heat?”

He grimaces, clutching at his stomach as he climbs into his nest and lays down on his back. “Unfortunately, no. But it was just the one when I presented. I’ve been on suppressants ever since.”

I have dozens of questions that I already know he won’t answer. When did he present? How has he kept this a secret for so long? Has anyone else figured it out? If so, who?

“You’ve been taking suppressants yourself this entire time. That’s why you could get them for me so quickly. And it must have been hard to get enough, so you’ve been rationing them, which is why you’ve been looking like shit for the last few days.” I know I’m talking to myself because he gives no indication of listening to me. My gaze shifts to the scattered pills in the corner. That sick yellow of vomit or dehydrated baby piss might be the ugliest color I’ve ever seen. “So you probably double or triple-dosed yourself with these new ones as soon as you got your hands on them. Must have been a really shit feeling when you realized they were bunk.”

Cillian throws his arm up to cover his eyes. “Please go back to dry humping that pillow and leave me alone.”

When I look down, I’m actually surprised to find the pillow jammed between my thighs, thoroughly soaked in slick. I’d been grinding against it for who knows how long without even realizing it.

Fucking heat.

I hate the loss of control, becoming a victim of my own body and urges. Heat has never come on for me like this before, so insidious that I didn’t even realize it was happening until it had already started.

Now that I’m again aware of the tingling ache between my thighs, it’s become impossible to ignore again. My hips move in a slow circle and I have to clench my own fingers into fists to prevent myself from shoving two or three of them inside myself.

When I risk a glance back at Cillian, he’s staring at me with an expression that almost looks sympathetic.

“Not just bunk, something much worse,” he whispers. “I can’t run the tests to prove it, but I think these fake suppressants are actually heat inducers.”

Horror temporarily cools my overheated libido. “No.”

Cillian burrows himself into the blankets until only the emotional wreckage on his face is visible. “I’m sorry.”

Suppressants might exist in a legal gray area that makes the black market more convenient, but heat inducers are very illegal. No Omega in their right mind would take a heat inducer willingly, assuming they somehow got their hands on some. I’ve heard stories of unscrupulous Alphas using heat inducers to force betas into mimicking the symptoms of a heat, but an inducer can destroy an Omega’s nervous system. Heat fever might just burn our brains out of skulls.

Especially without an Alpha to temper the response.

“What are we going to do?” I ask, voice cracking.

“Ride it out. What else can we do?”

I rub the heel of my hand against my mound because I can’t help myself, an itch there that I can’t scratch. Even without a knot, some stimulation is required if an Omega wants their heat to actually end. “Inducers can kill us. It’s practically one of the first things they teach you in health class at the Enclave.”

“You’ll have to forgive my ignorance,” he drawls. “I didn’t have the benefit of your education.”

“Lucky you.”

“Bite your tongue,” he snarls, kicking off the blankets to sit up and glare at me. “It’s been absolute hell since I presented.”

“I know you had access to suppressants,” I snap right back at him. “The Enclave wouldn’t offer us anything during our heat, just a bunch of desperate Omegas locked in a room together for days. The only kindness they offered was not forcing us to go through it alone.”

He gives me a mocking look. “You really don’t seem like the type to be into girls.”

I tilt my head back to stare at the ceiling, fighting back sudden tears even as need rages in my achingly empty core. “Omegas will fuck anything when we’re in heat. Everyone knows that.”

“Fine, whatever. You win the perfect-Omega-who-always-knows-everything contest. You always do.”

My gaze shifts to him as he flops back down, avoiding my gaze. His words trigger a tickle of awareness, a thread that I know I should chase, if I could just pull together enough brain power to do it.

But I find myself distracted by the flexing muscles as he folds both arms under his head. I study the hard lines of his compact body that are fully on display as he lies on the blankets. His cock is visibly hard as it presses against the fabric of his sweatpants. Even without a knot, I bet it would feel a hundred times better than my own fingers.

“What about you?” I ask, mouth suddenly dry. “Do you hate all women or just me?”

He rubs absently at his chest. “I don’t hate you.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” I murmur sarcastically, though I don’t fight the urge to slip off the mat and slink closer to him. “Though maybe that means we could help each other.”

Cillian is a beautiful man, compelling even with the downsides of his personality. I would want almost anyone if they were trapped in this room with me right now, but that doesn’t change the fact that everything about him is a lure, drawing me closer.

He blinks up at me as I shift closer and come to a stop just at the edge of his nest. “How?”

His heat is further along from mine, though I think he might be better at hiding it. Every muscle in his body is as taut as a bowstring, every inch of skin lightly beaded with sweat. It makes sense that his nervous system is on fire if he went without suppressants for a few days and then took a massive dose of the inducer.

“You finish faster — and harder — when someone else is doing the work for you. Makes the end of your heat come a little sooner.” My fingers play at the edge of one of his blankets, watching his face for any change in expression. “And when it’s over, we could just pretend it never happened.”

His pupils are blown black, the icy blue a tiny ring around the outside that is barely indistinguishable from the whites of his widened eyes as he stares at me. I’m already expecting him to say no as the silence stretches out and I ease back on my heels with a rushed “nevermind” on the tip of my tongue.

He rips off his shirt and tosses it away. “Do it.”

My Omega brain screams at me to jump on him, but I force myself to go slowly because too much aggression might make him change his mind. I crawl into his nest, drawn by the heady mix of our combined pheromones. My fingers trace across the hard plane of his stomach and his skin burns fever-hot against my palm.

He takes himself out before I can, letting his shaft bob against the waistband of his pants without removing them.

His cock is as perfect as the rest of him, long and thick from base to tip without the terrifying promise of an Alpha’s knot. Pale skin glistens under the light, and his scent swells in my nostrils until I practically taste it with every inhale. I stare at him for a long moment, unable to tear my gaze away.

“Maya, please,” he begs.

I decide to use my mouth, even though it isn’t strictly necessary, because of just how good he smells.

The musk of pre-cum on my tongue tastes like the most decadent treat. Salty and sweet, thick and rich. His taste is so good that it makes me moan around him, vibrations playing along his shaft.

His fingers tangle in my hair, not pushing or pulling, just holding on as if he needs an anchor. I take him deeper, hollowing my cheeks as I bob my head. His thighs tremble under my palms.

With a dazed sort of recognition, I realize this is the first time I’ve done this simply because I wanted to. Heat obviously puts a unique spin on consent, but in this moment, every part of me is in complete agreement.

My gaze shifts up the long plain of his body to watch his face.

Pale hair sticks to his sweaty forehead as he squeezes his eyes shut, cursing under his breath. I laugh around him, and the vibrations making him hiss out another expletive .

“Fuck, this is good,” he groans. “Don’t stop.”

I pull back enough to tongue the sensitive space under his balls, teasing him. The sound he makes is somewhere between a moan and a howl. His hips frantically buck as he gives a frustrated curse, making me swallow back another laugh.

I’ve never watched a man lose control like this. In any other circumstances, it would be the most fun I’ve ever had.

Cillian lurches forward to grab me by the waist, easily lifting my body over his until I’m straddling him with a knee on either side of his head. In the next second, he rips my underwear off with a hard jerk and drags his tongue along my slit.

Surprise makes me instinctively jerk away. He drags me back by my hips, forcing his mouth harder against me.

He groans, the vibration sending shocks of pleasure through me. “Fuck, I knew you’d taste as amazing as you smell.”

My whole body jolts in shock, freezing my movements until the thick length of his tongue pushes inside me.

I buck against him, feeling embarrassingly exposed though that doesn’t stop me from continuing to ride his face as the pleasure spirals higher.

When I finally take him into my mouth again, I relax my jaw and inhale, so the tip of his cock presses at the back of my throat. I’m so close and I have an inexplicable urge to make sure he comes before I do.

As if sensing my intentions, he huffs out a chuckle as his nose brushes my clit. His lips close around the swollen bundle of nerves and he sucks hard. I cry out with the force of sensation. His hands settle on my ass, forcing my hips to grind against his face in a harsh rhythm.

We are similar enough in size that one of his hands can fist in my hair, not quite hard enough to hurt, and he forces my head all the way down on him until my nose presses into his thighs.

It would be impossible to make this positioning work with an Alpha.

I claw at his skin as I come hard enough to see stars, not because I’m fighting to get away, but because the lack of oxygen sends sparks of pleasure that bow my spine. The movement forces his pants further down until the waistband catches just above his knees.

He holds me there for a moment so he can thrust into my mouth. I force my throat to relax just enough for him to pump into me without my gagging. He is already so hard, so desperate for it, and I know his release is going to be one that leaves him drained.

His fingers tighten in my hair, tugging again before his hips snap up and he spills out his release into the back of my throat.

Cillian collapses against the blankets with a tired groan and I roll up to sit on my heels with what I know is a self-satisfied smile. My gaze roves over him, starting with the rise and fall of his chest as he struggles to catch his breath and then trailing further down.

A bit of scarred flesh on the inside of his upper thigh catches my attention, mostly because it’s strange to see anything mar the unblemished perfection of his pale skin. The scar is a perfect imprint of teeth, set in deep and old enough to be a silvery white barely darker than the rest of his flesh, a crescent of barely restrained violence.

My stomach drops as my suddenly frantic gaze rises to meet his.

Cillian notices where I’m looking and yanks his pants up in a quick movement. But it’s too late, I’ve already seen it.

I open my mouth to ask the obvious question and make the impossible accusation.

But I don’t get the chance.

A dull roar sounds from the floor above our heads, enough to shake the rafters, and suck every last bit of oxygen out of the room.

The rutting bellow of a furious Alpha.