Chapter 20 #2
“I’ll go.” The words leave my mouth before I can reconsider.
Cillian’s head whips toward me, eyes wide with alarm, but I force myself to soldier on before I have a chance to come to my senses.
“I’d be happy to escort Dr. Thane tomorrow.
” I force a smile that feels like broken glass on my lips.
“As the future queen, I should take an interest in the harem. After all, I have a vested interest in the other Omegas here.”
Thane’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “How generous of you, Lady Maya. I look forward to our time together.”
Cillian clears his throat, clearly trying to figure out how best to respond to the disconnect between my words and whatever it is he feels through the bond.
Through our bond, I feel his confusion and concern.
He doesn’t understand why I’d volunteer to spend time with a man who clearly unsettles me. “You don’t have to do this.”
“I know the harem better than you do,” I lie smoothly. “And I’m sure the Omegas there would feel more comfortable speaking with another Omega present.”
What I don’t say is: I won’t let him expose you. I won’t let him hurt you the way he hurt me.
Even if it’s exactly what I’m thinking.
Thane watches our exchange with the detached interest of a scientist observing lab rats. “Shall we say nine o’clock tomorrow morning, then?”
“I’ll be there,” I promise, my voice steadier than I feel.
As Thane walks away, Cillian pulls me into an alcove, his face tight with concern. “What are you doing?” he demands. “You were terrified of him a minute ago. I could feel it through our bond.”
“I just don’t like doctors,” I say dismissively. “Bad experiences at the Enclave.”
His eyes search mine, unconvinced. “Maya, whatever you’re not telling me?—“
“It’s nothing.” I cut him off. “Just trust me on this.”
Cillian’s expression hardens. “The last person who said “just trust me” was Logan, and we all know how that turned out.”
The words sting more than they should. “Fine, you don’t have to trust me. But I’m still going tomorrow.”
“Fine.” His expression shuts down as he repeats the word in the same tone I used. “We should probably find Logan before Thane corners you again.”
He turns on his heel, not bothering to check if I’m following him.
The weight of secrets and fear settles like a weight in my stomach.
But when I fall into step beside him, Cillian’s comes to rest above the bend of my elbow as if on instinct.
At his touch, my anxiety doesn’t completely fall away but does feel immediately muted.
I decide not to question that response, even though it’s unsettling.
Thane wants something—from me, from Cillian, maybe from all of us. And I’m walking straight back into his hands.
But if the choice is between facing my own nightmare for an hour or watching Cillian’s world collapse around him, I know which one I have to choose.
I tell myself it’s because the bond won’t allow me to betray him.
Because that’s what I desperately need to believe.
W e find Logan in a smoke-filled room just off the main ballroom.
The heavy scent of cigars and hard liquor surrounds me as we enter, along with the raucous laughter of men.
Aside from the prince, five Alphas sit around a green felt table, cards and chips scattered between them.
Logan’s golden eyes light up when he spots me.
“There she is.” Logan beckons me over with an eager wave. “My good luck charm.”
Cillian’s hand subtly falls away as I approach the table. The loss of his warmth is like blowing out a candle held close to my skin, leaving a startling cold in its wake.
Before I can protest, Logan pulls me onto his lap. His arm circles my waist possessively, and I fight the instinct to squirm away as he nuzzles my neck. The other men at the table watch with undisguised interest, their eyes tracking my every movement.
“Gentlemen, this is Maya—my mate.” Logan’s chest puffs with pride. “Maya, these are representatives from the Western Provinces here for my coronation.”
Five pairs of hungry eyes assess me like I’m a prize mare at auction. One man with a salt-and-pepper beard leans forward, inhaling deeply.
“Strawberries and champagne,” he murmurs. “Exquisite.”
My skin crawls at his casual scenting of me. Another Alpha, younger with calculating eyes, tilts his head.
“Is it true what they say? That Omegas in the capital can read and write?”
“The Enclave provides necessary education in all areas. Maya is quite the novelty for her own sake, but basic literacy should be assumed for any Omegas you encounter here” Logan laughs, his hand tightening around my waist. Turning to me, he explains.
“In other provinces, formally educating Omegas is considered a waste of resources.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from responding. There are Omegas who can’t read? The thought bothers me almost as much as the way these men talk about me as if I’m not sitting right here—as if I’m some exotic pet Logan has acquired for showing.
“You must forgive their curiosity,” Logan says, his lips brushing my ear. “Omegas are quite rare in much of the provinces. Most are kept away from society by their families for their own safety, even once they’re mated.”
“How unfortunate for them,” I reply, my voice honey-sweet despite the venom beneath. “And here I am, capable of both speech and thought. I must seem positively magical.”
The men laugh, clearly believing I’m making a self-deprecating joke rather than mocking them. Logan pinches my side in warning, but his smile never falters.
“That hair is spectacular. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”
One of them murmurs softly to the other, too low to be audible. But from the way his gaze lingers on the high slit of my sheath dress, I can only assume his comments have something to do with whether the drapes match the carpet.
Assholes.
“I’m not sure if I should be flattered or concerned that you find me so interesting,” I tell the men, keeping my tone light while meeting each gaze directly. “But I assure you, I’m just a person.”
“A very special person,” Logan corrects, his fingers digging into my hip.
“She has spirit,” says the bearded Alpha approvingly. “That makes the taming all the more satisfying.”
Cillian has taken up a guard position behind us. He doesn’t say a word or make a sound. But even without looking at him, I feel the depth of his annoyance through the bond.
Logan’s arm wraps more solidly around my waist. His tone remains even, but carries the slightest hint of warning. “My Omega is perfect just the way she is.”
I ignore the way my chest lightens at the words. Logan has never had a problem saying the right things. It’s his actions that matter in the end.
The oldest Alpha seated at the table, hair as white as his eyes are keen, finally speaks. “So we see. Your father has made assurances that the Omega propagation effort we all sacrificed so much for would eventually bear dividends. We’re all happy to see that appears to be the case.”
“Indeed.” Logan’s smile is little more than a baring of his teeth. “I think the next round starts with you, Lord Farqin.”
With that, the men return to their game while my mind whirls.
Omega propagation effort?
What the hell does that mean?
My throat clenches with the effort to swallow back demanding questions. Questions I know Logan won’t deign to answer.
It’s no secret that Alphas outnumber Omegas practically ten-to-one in the general population. You don’t need to be conspiracy-minded to assume the king would undertake any feasible effort to increase the Omega birthrate. It makes perfect sense.
So why do I feel like something nefarious is going on?
I blink back to an awareness of my surroundings when the stench of liquor burns my nostrils.
My gaze moves from the glass being held under my nose to Logan’s slight smirk.
“Take a sip,” he murmurs. “It’ll help you relax.”
I do, because that’s easier than refusing him in front of these strange Alphas. But as the drink burns down my throat, I can’t resist a small barb.
“I could down the rest of the bottle and it won’t change much.”
The youngest Alpha at the table—he can’t be more than a few years older than me—leans forward with an eager smile. His gaze flicks from Logan to me as he reaches into his jacket pocket.
“Perhaps the lady would prefer something more to her taste?” He produces a small baggie filled with pale pink powder, holding it between two fingers like an offering. “This is extracted from the rosa mentis flower that only grows in the western mountain ranges. We call it blush back home.”
“I’m familiar.” Logan’s hand tightens on my waist, his voice dropping to a dangerous octave. “My Omega doesn’t need your provincial narcotics.”
I stiffen at his presumption. My Omega doesn’t need , he says. Not even a question of what I might want.
The bearded Alpha chuckles, eyeing the baggie with interest. “Come now, Prince Logan. A little blush never hurt anyone. It’s quite popular among the nobility in our region, even some of our most respected Omegas partake.”
“Indeed,” adds the white-haired Lord Farqin. “My own mate finds it quite enjoyable during social gatherings. Helps her overcome her natural shyness.”
I can only imagine that shyness has something to do with being ogled like an exotic animal in a zoo, but I keep that thought to myself.
“I said no.” Logan’s tone is final, brooking no argument.
The others exchange glances, clearly surprised by his refusal. I can feel Logan’s satisfaction at having shut them down, and it rankles me more than I care to admit. Not because I particularly want whatever drug they’re offering, but because he didn’t even consider my opinion worth bothering with.
The Alpha with the baggie notices my expression and smiles knowingly. “Your Omega seems disappointed by your decision, Your Highness.”
Logan’s gaze snaps to my face, studying me. I keep my expression neutral, but I can’t help the slight tightening of my jaw.
“Perhaps you should let her decide for herself,” suggests another Alpha. “After all, isn’t that the progressive attitude in the capital these days? Allowing Omegas some…autonomy?”
His voice drips with condescension and barely restrained censure, but I seize the opportunity, regardless.
“You did say you wanted me to relax,” I remind Logan sweetly, turning in his lap to face him. I trail my fingers along his jawline, feeling him tense beneath my touch. “And you’ve been so insistent that I enjoy myself tonight.”
Logan’s golden eyes narrow as he considers. Continuing to insist now will just make him look foolish, but he obviously doesn’t want me to so much as touch the powder in that baggie.
Which makes me want to snort the whole thing in one go, if only to spite him.
“One small taste wouldn’t hurt,” the bearded Alpha urges. “Show these Western lords that the capital’s future king isn’t afraid to let his Omega experience a provincial indulgence.”
I can feel Logan’s frustration radiating through our bond, a storm of anger building beneath his carefully maintained exterior. His fingers press into my hip hard enough to bruise, but his smile remains fixed in place.
“A small taste,” he finally concedes, his voice tight. “Since my mate is so curious.”
The victory is small but satisfying. I’ve forced him to bend, if only slightly, in front of others. As the young Alpha opens the bag and sprinkles a small amount in everyone’s glass, I risk a glance at Cillian. His face is expressionless, but I feel his concern pulsing through our bond.
Too late for second thoughts now. I’ve made my point, even if I have to sample a strange pink drug to do it.
As the others share a toast, Logan holds out his glass to me, now with a faintly glittering sheen to the dark liquid.
“You’re not having any?” I ask just before the glass reaches my lips, and I swallow down a mouthful of liquor that now tastes sweeter than it did before.
There is no trace of humor in his smile. “Tonight, it’s probably best if at least one of us remains in touch with reality.”
A strange tingle starts at the base of my spine before curling up my back with a flash of heat. I look to Cillian who mimes taking a sip of a glass of pink-tinged liquid before setting the still full glass on the mantelpiece behind him.
As my attention returns to Logan’s fierce gaze, still trained intently on my face, I realize that I may have just made a terrible mistake.