Page 11 of The Princess and the Pack

As the six of us shuffle and stumble to the door, I’m stopped by the hulking body of Prince Aspen. He is quite dashing, I’ll admit. And so very large. I’d venture to say he and Sloan match each other in size—and that’s saying something. I can see why Ciaran has taken such an interest. Were I not so completely entranced by the princess, I might also have taken notice.

“I meant what I said, Cillian,” Aspen says with a lazy smile. He grabs my cheeks roughly and leans in so our foreheads rest against each other. “Hurt my sister and I’ll rough up this handsome face.”

Before I can even process the shift toward seriousness and the very real threat in his eyes, the prince laughs and pulls away. I watch, an unwilling voyeur to the obvious lust rolling off him in waves, as Ciaran steps beside me.

“It’s such a nice face. Far too pretty to punch,” Aspen muses with a knowing smirk.

It’s clear his words are no longer intended for me, nor is the look of open admiration coming from him. I’ve always been aware of Ciaran’s interest but I see it isn’t as one-sided as I previously thought. I don’t know what kind of fire these two think they’re playing with, only that it will surely burn them both.

“Prince Ciaran, would you be so kind as to show me to my quarters? I fear I won’t manage on my own,” Aspen asks with what I can only describe as a flirtatious edge to his tone. It’s as if he’s not even trying to conceal his intentions. But I’m in no position to judge, what with my own salacious plans in place.

What these two do before they marry is their own business.

My now bashful brother is beet red—a blushing, bumbling fool who steps toward his paramour with a dreamy look in his eyes. But I need him focused. He has a task to accomplish before he falls into bed with my bride’s brother.

“Don’t forget,” I say beneath my breath when he passes me.

“Yes, yes. I have the letter,” he returns, not bothering to even glance my way.

“And…” I press.

“It’s handled, Cillian,” he snaps. “Fuck, you’re a real nag, you know?”

Laughing, I wave him off. It’s clear his mind is elsewhere, but he’s right; I needn’t worry. Ciaran is many things: a free spirit, a quick wit, and a monumental pain in my arse, but above all he is reliable and steadfast in his support of me.

Both he and Cal didn’t hesitate to back me when I laid out my plans of bringing pack living to our court. After Ivy left Namara, I told my brothers everything. Not just about the scent match Fate bestowed upon my packmates and me, but long held secrets from our past I’d been too ashamed to bring to light.

While shaken, they embraced me and my mission with open arms. For all the differences between my brothers and me, great love exists.

When my study is empty and I finally make my way to my quarters, the new lightness in my step is a welcome relief. If this evening has given me anything, it’s the comfort of certainty. When the sun rises, the omega of my dreams will be my wife.

Aweek spent on the open sea was not so brutal as two whole days cooped up in this room without getting to see my intended’s handsome face.

Well, that’s not entirely true, as I saw Prince Ciaran and Prince Callan when they welcomed my siblings and me upon our arrival. Though they all share the same face, the effect is not the same.

Though they’re triplets, I would be able to tell Cillian apart from the others, even in the dark. It’s the way he carries himself and the aura he naturally exudes that makes my knees weak. His presence is captivating to say the least, and I find myself drawn to him time and time again.

Even when he did his best to ignore me last year, I wanted nothing more than his rapt attention. My wish, it seems, was granted when he caught me snooping around in his study. Since then, my intended has been happy to divulge precisely how much of his notice I hold through his weekly letters.

Though his correspondence hasn’t been what I would consider long-winded, his wit and thoughtfulness have been evident with each stroke of his quill. With each new letter, I have gathered bits and pieces about who Cillian is and what he holds dear. I learned he loves taking his horse, Taranis, out to ride as much as he’s able. That the fresh air in his lungs and the wind at his back bring him joy. He has confided in me that, as the oldest, he feels responsible for both Ciaran and Callan and worries over each of them daily.

Most interestingly, I have learned of his growing affections for me. He has yet to send a single letter where he doesn’t compliment me in some regard. More recently, he’s taken to being rather brazen, telling me in great detail how beautiful he finds me and how he can’t wait to kiss me once more.

Those particular parts of his correspondence, though inappropriate for an unwed omega to receive, never cease to make me flush. They conjure illicit thoughts of the last time our lips met and the circumstances we found ourselves in.

The memory of that night is something I tend to revisit when I’m alone in my bedchambers. All we did—all we would have done were we not interrupted—proves I’m not the proper omega princess Cillian likely expects.

Even now, when I have all I could ever want with my betrothed doting on me from afar, he is not the only alpha on my mind. Just the same as that night, Lord Oran Rafferty is a presence I don’t want to shake. His touch is a phantom caress haunting me still. I burn as brightly for him today as I did then.

Maybe I’m greedy for wanting more than I’ve been given. How many omegas across the western kingdoms would be rapturous to have an alpha like King Cillian at their side? Too many to count, that’s for certain.

But even as a young girl, I used to sneak around the palace so I could hear the omegas on staff gossip and swap stories about their alphas.

I have dreamt of having a pack of my own ever since.

Were I neither a princess nor an omega of noble birth, I would know the thrill of being courted by multiple alphas. To be openly sought after, to feel no shame around the attention my nature so desperately yearns for, is a dream I will never be able to realize. Not fully at least.

But for one evening, I felt a whisper of power that came from several men wanting to bring me pleasure in tandem. Being the sole focus of their concentration, with their soft words and hungry touches, was drugging in a way even my dreams could not prepare me for.

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