Page 57 of The Princess and the Pack

I believe him. I don’t know why after the lying, but I do. “I’m ready,” I breathe, steeling myself.

Oran rests a hand at the base of my neck, fingers trailing to trace Sloan’s bond mark. A swift, stolen touch—but my body burns at the contact.

“Stunning,” Oran says—not for the first time this morning—and I’m melting all over again.

He brushes past me, letting our shoulder touch before opening the door. I notice he doesn’t knock, and the familiarity—the confidence in his right to be there—brings a smile to my lips.

If we’re meant to be a pack, there shouldn’t be any boundaries between us. I think so, anyway. But what do I know about packs?

Perhaps today is the day I learn.

With a deep breath, I follow behind my fiery alpha and step into my future.

Ages have passed since I was last in Cillian’s quarters—at least it seems that way given how much has changed in a single day.

Yesterday I awoke to my new husband’s lips on my body. With each whispered word and ounce of pleasure he bestowed upon me, the kindling of new love was set ablaze. I couldn’t have imagined a more perfect start to our new life together. But that happiness ripped from when I learned of Cillian’s lies.

He sold me a dream this past year. All the while letting me place him on some pedestal of epic proportions.

My intended was so sweet—so charming and thoughtful to court me through correspondence. Little did I know he was omitting important information that affected me and our future.

He hurt—deeply. After all I’ve endured because of my father’s dishonesty and treachery, I wanted nothing more than a partner who wouldn’t dream of deceiving me. I believed that was what I had with Cillian and I don’t know how to forgive him for tarnishing that.

Still, when Oran and I enter the drawing room, I can’t deny that my body—and my heart—don’t want to be at odds with Cillian.

He looksawful. Well, as awful as someone that beautiful can look. Dark circles rest under his eyes; his sallow complexion tells me he likely didn’t sleep a wink.

My heart twinges at the notion that he was so distraught.

It’s maddening, a bit, to have a scent match. As much as I deserve to be angry, I can’t stand the thought of him hurting. And then his scent—like breathing in the fresh air off the ocean cliffs. Salt and sea and freedom. I want to bury my nose in his neck and sniff until I’m drunk on it.

Amusement sparkles in my chest, a little pull down the bond from my handsome gardener who stands next to his packmate, a broad grin on his face. He can guess at my conflicting emotions. Though I know he’ll support me in my choices, I’m sure he’s pleased that all hope is not lost for Cillian and me.

“Good morning, darling,” Cillian says, wincing straightaway. Just as I do.

Somehow the endearment feels different than it did yesterday—like poking a bruise that’s only just begun to heal.

“Good morning.”

I walk toward them, and Sloan steps forward to pull my chair out. He drops a kiss to my temple, lending me support with his fresh scent. “I missed you,” he whispers, reaching up to thumb at my bond mark.

I gasp, overcome by a new wave of desire—just the same as when Oran did it. It’s not fair that they should have such easy access to making me light up.

“I need to spend more time on this,” he chuckles. “Didn’t get to tend to it enough.”

“You tended to it, plenty, greedy alpha,” I chide, kissing him softly before I take my seat.

Oran and Cillian stare at the two of us with yearning in their eyes.

Shit.

I didn’t mean to throw this in their face. It’s just, everything with Sloan is so new and shimmering. I feel such a draw to him now that we’re freshly bonded.

Cillian swallows, his eyes dropping to my neck. “That is very pretty, omega. Silver is such a lovely color against your skin.”

Pride flares from both Sloan and I.

Itisquite lovely.

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