Page 40 of The Princess and the Pack

In the meantime, I have plans to get our sweet mate out of her head and plant her feet in the idea of pack living.

Time to show why I’m the prime of this pack.

Cillian is a phenomenal king and Oran is a truly invaluable advisor to him, but right now they’re fucking up and I can’t stand for it. They need to trust me to take care of our omega tonight. In the morning we can come together to do better by her.

“Sloan, no. I won’t just—” The king’s eyes glisten with unshed tears. After spending the night with our Ivy, it must kill him to be separated from her. But that’s too bad. Part of being a pack is realizing our individual needs come behind the good of our omega. She is our center, our foundation—the very heart of us.

“Respectfully, Cillian, you both need to fuck right off. Take the night. Get your heads on straight. I’ll stay in the nest with our omega and tomorrow we can talk this through.”

Oran hasn’t said anything, and I know the wheels are turning in his head. On the inside, he’s busy putting up walls, reminding himself he’s not wanted, not worthy—whatever other shite his pa put in there.

Tomorrow I’ll talk with him, but he’s got to get past some of this on his own. If he doesn’t believe himself worthy of Ivy, he’ll always be too afraid of showing her his heart—and that would be a fucking shame. Oran, for all his grumpy obstinance, is the most loyal, caring alpha I’ve ever known.

Cillian and I wanted him in our pack for a reason—not only that we share a Fate-blessed mate. But with his unwavering support, he lends us the strength to accomplish anything. Oran plays such an important part in this group.

Ivy will see it too.

“Go!” I snarl when they still don’t move.

Fucking eejits. The longer they stay, the longer Ivy remains a shell of herself.

Too fucking slowly, my packmates rise from the bed.

“I’m so sorry, darling,” Cillian tries again. His tone is distant, devoid of anything but despair. Our omega only clutches me tighter in response.

I hate that he’s hurting; truly I do. I’ve always thought of Cillian as my little brother. His pure heart is so apparent to everyone who knows him. He’s never allowed himself selfish pleasures, not until he scented Ivy. Even then, he tried to deny himself for what he regarded as a noble cause.

All this is due to him wanting her to experience the scent match as we did. Cillian didn’t want to overwhelm her with the news before she could scent us as proof of our claims. I didn’t agree. But I’m not a royal. I trusted he knew what ideas Ivy was raised with and how she would feel more than I ever could.

It seems we made the wrong choice, after all.

Oran is silent as he approaches us. He reaches out a hand to touch Ivy’s hair, but pulls back at the last second.

Typical Oran, denying himself happiness.

“Tomorrow,” I say to every member of my pack—Ivy included. Regardless of what’s happened to hurt her heart, we haven’t any time to waste. Her heat could be here in the morning for all we know, and I don’t want her suffering.

I can’t bear the thought of her falling ill because we aren’t meeting her needs while she’s in her most vulnerable state. Together the three of us can make it so good for her.

She simply needs to give us the chance.

My packmates leave the nest at long last, and I’m left with my precious petal clinging to me for dear life.

“It’s all right,” I whisper, rubbing a hand down her back to soothe her.

She sighs, a final steadying breath to fortify her. “Did they go?”

“Aye, they did. Are you all right now?”

My omega scoffs, a little haughty and indignant. “That depends.”

Slowly, she settles her sweet little arse in my lap and pulls away from my neck to look up at me.Goddess—even with tear-stained cheeks she’s a vision. A rare, heart-stopping beauty and all mine to cherish.

Taking the hand that’s not wrapped around her waist, I gently wipe away the last of her fallen tears. Despite her tone, Ivy’s soft gaze mirrors the same awe I feel over this blessed connection of ours. Though we’ve only spoken once before, it’s clear she feels this pull between us just as I do.

“Depends onwhat, petal?” The quirk of my lip is a natural response to her sharp tongue. One day soon, she’ll feel the loving consequences for all her sass.

“On your answers to my questions.”

---