Page 20 of The Princess and the Pack

Castle Ancaire is the only home I’ve ever known, being that one of my fathers was the groundskeeper for decades. My parents now live in the country, having left after the loss of the former queen whom they loved so dearly. I stayed on to work in the gardens—Fate keeping my feet planted where my pack needed me.

It’s one thing for Cillian to acknowledge me, and quite another for others to accept they might have to mingle with the staff. Still, my restless heart led me straight to the banquet hall for a glimpse of our woman. Too many nights have passed since I’ve seen her deep blue eyes or felt the comfort that only comes with her nearness.

Seeing her happy and well is a balm to my soul after many nights apart.

I meant only to stay for a moment, but when Cillian dragged her onto the dance floor, I was instantly enthralled by the way they moved together. The trust she offered him as he led her through the steps, the lilt of her laughter each time she stumbled—I wished it were me. I want more than anything to experience her in all the ways an alpha courting his omega is meant to do.

I was about to leave Cillian to enjoy his special night when Ivy locked eyes with me from across the room. Even from my distant vantage point, I swear I could smell her perfume bloom for me—swear I could feel the heat of her wanting me—andfuckif my teeth didn’t ache to sink into the porcelain paradise of her unmarked neck.

Sealing my claim on my omega, showing the whole kingdom how Fate has smiled upon me, extends beyond desire at this point. IneedIvy—need her to feel grounded in the knowledge that, even far from her country, she will always have a home in my heart.

Until her family leaves, I’ll do my best to keep my hands—and my teeth—to myself. But each passing day without speaking to her is a day I drift further into madness. It’s not natural, this waiting. The deceptive politics of the nobility have no place in the bond between a pack and their mate. Power and authority have truly been wasted on alphas who ignore the simple, innate instincts to protect at all cost.

Pack living is what the gods always intended for us, and my four alpha fathers have never taken the calling lightly. Together they have worked to provide my ma with everything she could ever want, and in return, she has given them an unshakable foundation built on love. All I’ve ever wanted for my life is the same happiness I witnessed firsthand.

My packmates, while blessed with wealth and influence, have been raised to ignore these deeply ingrained instincts in favor of “good breeding” and legacy. Luckily, they’ve got me to guide them through the insecurities they harbor around our nature.

Though idealistic, my hope is that, together with Ivy, my pack will lead our kingdom into a new age. One where the divide between the nobility and common folk isn’t so vast—where omegas don’t suffer because of the consequence of their birth. And one where my pack can openly love our mate the way she deserves.

With Cillian as king, I have confidence Namara and its people will prosper like never before. Just as I trust him to rule, I must trust him with our Ivy until the moment is right.

Until then, I’ll be watching over her in my own way, eager for the day I can show her my heart and all it has to offer.

“Fuck’s sake almighty,” I groan, pressing my bride into our mattress to steal another hungry kiss from her lips. Only one, before I lose myself to the rut creeping ever close.

Being so near to her is exquisite torture with her perfume all around me, woven into every thread of my being. She’s all soft curves and whimpers, and my cock throbs in anticipation of finally bedding my mate.

With the noises spilling from her lips, I’m pleased I sent the guards from their post outside our door. They can man the halls at a distance that won’t allow them to hear the sounds Ivy makes for me. I’m greedy in my desire to hoard them, and murderous over the thought of anyone outside my pack being graced with intimate knowledge of my wife. Her sounds are for me—every last one of them. I’ve waited many long nights to know them again.

Gods, this woman, this sensual creature who was made for me to cherish, is more than I could ever have anticipated. I’m normally a composed, reasonable alpha. I’ve had to be all my life. Taking care of my brothers, shielding my mother as best I could, preparing to rule—every day has been planned with meticulous precision.

Until I met Ivy.

With a single look and one glorious tendril of her apple-soaked scent, the bars bent on the cage this world had built around me. Since then, every ounce of logic and self-control I possessed has taken flight.

Aspiring toward any semblance of sanity seems futile, unless some well of clarity lies between her thighs. With her taste on my tongue and my hands on her skin, perhaps I can ground myself in something other than fantasies of her. Now though, in my bed, regarding me with coy curiosity over what comes next, my omega is so much more than make-believe.

The rosy remnants of my kisses stain her lips the most enticing shade of pink—the same lovely color flushing her cheeks. Her ardent acceptance of my carnal attention is all I could have dreamt for my wedding night. Whether we take our physical connection further, I’m sated by the way my mate seems to crave me.

The look of trust she offers me is, in itself, the greatest gift of all.

“Why did you stop?” Ivy asks, trailing her fingers up my chest. The featherlight caress speaks to soft-hearted intentions, but her tender touch is a deception. Without warning, she roughly threads her hands into my hair and tugs me on top of her.

Lips like heaven press fervently against mine until I can no longer think beyond the need to rut her. The introduction of her tongue against mine is my finishing blow.

Fumbling through heated touches in the dim lighting, we only break the blessed meeting of our mouths for the purposes of breathing—and ripping this gown from her body. Some other night I’ll take my time in disrobing my mate, relishing in the teasing thrill of each bared inch of her. But tonight, I possess no such patience.

“Is this all right?” I ask through heaving breaths, my hands shoving beneath her skirts to lift higher and higher. Despite my deep-seated need to devour her, my omega’s comfort is one thing on which I’m never willing to compromise.

“Donotstop again,” she commands. Her tone leaves no room for argument, and I chuckle at her restlessness.

The laugh dies in my throat the moment I pull her gown overhead and toss it to the floor. I’ve dreamt too often of this moment: Ivy naked beneath me, pink-cheeked and eager for my touch. But my dreams have done little justice to the sight before me.

My mate is stunning beyond words—a veritable goddess in the flesh. Her soft thighs are parted around my hips, exposing her beautiful cunt and the desire glistening there. Her breaths are labored, be it nerves or excitement from our enthusiastic kissing, and I’m mesmerized by the rise and fall of her breasts.

I could bury myself against them, get swept away by the sound of her beating heart while I fuck into her with reckless abandon. Hours—days—spent learning every beautiful inch of her and still, it wouldn’t be enough.

I feel out of my mind—this obsession so ingrained in me since the sacred night we spent in my study. Ivy encompasses everything I could ever want.

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