The one he made me spray on his suits every morning. The one he used to cover up the smell of hi–
My breath caught as my eyes snapped open.
The blinding white dining room stretched in front of me, a dining room I’d seen a million times. My head yanked side to side as I took in the sea of faceless mobsters seated along the impossibly long table. They were dressed in crisp black suits, hands folded, shoulders perfectly square, an army of mannequins placed here purely to torture me.
My pulse thudded in my ears.
I tried to push back from the table, but my chair refused to budge. The legs seemed fused to the glazed marble flooring. My stomach was tight and swollen and pressed into the oak in front of me.
My eyes fell to the fine china on the table. It was loaded with ruby red pomegranate arils. They were mounded together on the gold rimmed plate, juice oozed unnaturally from the middle before bleeding over the rim and soaking onto the placemat.
A pit formed in my stomach as my mind raced with the stories I’d read in the mythology books lining the walls in Logan’s walls. He’d never picked up a single tome, he just thought they made him look smart, but they helped me pass the time.
Pomegranates meant ownership. In the tale of Hades and Persephone, Hades tricked his bride into eating just a few seeds, the numbers varied between books but the implication remained the same. After consuming them, Persephone’s fate had been sealed, she was doomed to spend a portion of each year in hell, but I didn’t have four or even six on the plate.
There had to be hundreds.
My breath came in frantic bursts as the faceless men leaned in closer, their blank heads tilting toward me as if their eyeless sockets could see me better that way.
A hand, warm, heavy, and familiar in the worst way, settled on my shoulder and the scent of body odor and rotten meat drifted into my nose.
“Violet.” Logan’s voice wrapped around me like a chain. “It seems like pregnancy has forced you to forget all the manners I taught you.”
This wasn’t real. This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real. Please don’t be real.
His fingers dug into my shoulder causing pain to crack down my arm.
“Look at your alpha when he speaks to you, Omega.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, but his thumb forced its way under my chin, dragging my face upward until my lashes fluttered open, bringing me face to face with a set of hazel eyes I could never forget.
Mousy brown hair fell onto Logan's forehead as he squeezed my cheeks until my lips popped open like a fish.
“You are pregnant withmychild, Violet, Iown you.” His teeth glinted in the golden light of the chandelier as he growled, breath rotting against my lips.
I tried to turn my head and pull away, but his grip bruised my jaw and my eyes watered.
“Open wider,” he hissed. “Don’t make me force you.”
I thrashed my legs, trying to move, but all they did was bang against the table.
Logan released my cheeks only long enough to reach toward the plate and scoop the fruit into his palm. Juice dripped from between his fingers and ran down his palm.
“You forgot your place,” he murmured. “And I’m done reminding you gently.”
He shoved the handful toward my mouth. I tried to push him away, but my hands wouldn’t move. It was like someone had replaced all the blood in my veins with lead.
“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” he snarled. “You will eat. And you will swallow. And you will obey like the good Omega I trained you to be.”
I shook my head violently.
His eyes darkened.
“You dare disobey menow? When you carrymy legacy?” His voice cracked with fury, the chandelier lights flickering overhead. “You think finally keepinga pregnancy makes you special? All this baby proves is you weren’t as broken as I thought.”
His hand clamped the back of my skull and my breath hitched.
“You are nothing but an incubator for my future generations.” His fingers tightened. “You don’t get to tell me no.”
