Page 32 of The Princess and the Pack

Cillian has never been like his father, though. Undoubtedly, he’s the best alpha I’ve ever known.

Unfortunately, I may have to kill him if he’s the reason my omega looks so distraught.

It’s a beautiful day with the weather finally resembling spring. The sun is shining, reflecting brilliantly against my mate’s earthen hair. Despite her sadness, she blooms amongst the flowers.

Keeping my distance would be the smart choice, but what mortal alpha could deny the draw of his Fate-blessed mate when she so clearly needs him? Besides, if her determined stride is anything to go by, she’s definitely spotted me and is quickly descending upon my hiding place.

I should retreat, or at the very least duck behind the hedges. But I can’t take my eyes off my omega. The instinct to hold her, to bury my nose in her hair and breathe lungfuls of her heavenly scent, is so fucking powerful I can hardly keep my feet rooted. I fear if I move even an inch, I might take her to the ground and rut her senseless.

But Ivy isn’t ready for me yet.

When I take her, it will be because she’s dripping wet and begging for me to knot her until she weeps—notbecause I can’t master my own urges.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to stare?” Ivy’s melodic voice rings out, far too near. I stupidly allowed visions of rutting her in the garden to cloud my judgment.

Luckily, my scent blends in with the aromas of the garden: earth, rain, and fresh grass. I could easily explain it away if need be.

“My apologies, Your Majesty,” I offer, bowing at the waist. “I must have been daydreaming.”

My mate steps toward me, and I retreat in return. Her arched brow speaks to her confusion, but she moves again—and again—until I’m forced to hide behind the trunk of a nearby oak tree.

“What are you doing?”she inquires. It’s clear she’s unamused by my antics, but what else am I meant to do? Cillian will lose his head either way.

“Who? Me?” I ask—like a fucking eejit. I saw our first conversation going much better than this.

“No, not you. The fairy flying around your head,” Ivy scoffs with a precious sort of exasperation. “Of course you. Why are you hiding from me?”

I choke back my laughter, tickled by her cutting tone.

Funny omega.

I love a woman with a sharp tongue.

“Don’t be cracking wise about fairies now, petal. Fate’s helpers are powerful, vengeful little things.”

Her eyes widen. Though I can’t tell if it was the mention of the fairies’ scent-matching magic or the stupid slip of my tongue. Petalisthe perfect endearment for my soft, pretty omega. But I didn’t mean to say it aloud.

Either way, she advances on me once more. One step forward for her is another I take backward. This continues until I reach another tree to shield me from her determination.

“Why do you insist on moving away?” Ivy asks through gritted teeth.

Her scent is driving me mad, swelling with frustration right alongside her excitement. If I didn’t know better, I’d guess my little mate is enjoying this chase.

My touch-starved, lustful mind latches onto that, makes me wonder how she might respond if I were the one hunting her.

“You’d like me to be close to you? Is that an official request?” I can’t refrain from flirting with her anymore than I can stop breathing. She’s my omega, after all. Not to mention the most fuckable woman I’ve ever laid eyes upon. To behave in any contrary way would go against all that’s true within me.

Ivy blushes redder than a spring rose, and I nearly lose myself to the rut I’m desperately keeping at bay. I want to see those cheeks stained with tears of pleasure—want to kiss them dry until she’s soft as silk in my arms.

“I—I didn’t say that!” she sputters, surprised by my forwardness.

Her perfume is vibrant now: decadent, freshly baked apples slathered in honey and cinnamon. Smug alpha pride swirls in my gut, and my teeth are fuckingachingagain.

Take her.

Bite her.

Love her and never let go.

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