Page 19 of The Princess and the Pack

“Darling,” he purrs, “we should at least haveone moredance together before I lose all semblance of control and steal you away to our bed.”

Gods.

This alpha, his marvelous mouth, and the lustful lilt of his accent make the words falling freely from his lips far too appealing. Heat flushes every inch of my skin pink, licking up my spine as slick all but slides down my thighs. It’s so indecent, and yet so natural, the way I need him.

Is this inextinguishable ardor part of the magic of scent-matched pairs? Perhaps it will become more manageable once he claims me. It’s likely expected for us to bond tonight, and though my omega nature yearns for it, the rational part of me wonders if we’re ready for such a thing just yet.

If we’re truly fated, what harm could come from waiting for our hearts to catch up to our instincts?

Perceptive of my stalling, Cillian sighs and rubs his cheek against mine. This scent-marking is a much more subtle claim than the firm grasp he has on my hair.

“You alone determine the pace of our coupling. Your comfort is far more important to me than whatever expectations others have placed on our wedding night.”

I’m certain my heart can’t skip again without fatal repercussions. The king’s soft heart is as alluring as his broad, beautiful body.

“Must we dance, husband?” I ask, letting my voice dip into a foreign, flirtatious timbre. “You’re not the only one eager for bed.”

Wide-eyed in surprise of my forwardness, Cillian’s smile turns damn near predatory. Hunger swells the tides of his sea-kissed scent as he preens under my admiration of him.

“Fuck,” he exhales. The king’s eyes roll back for the briefest of moments, his hand straying below the table to adjust himself in his trousers. Had I known how satisfying it would be to unravel him, I would have attempted to do so much sooner.

Before I can protest, Cillian stands and takes my hand to tug me toward the thrum of the dance floor. I was certain my propositioning would save me, but it seems my husband is keen to show me off one last time before we retire.

“Just one more. Trust me,” he pleads. And I do. Whether it’s the tether our souls have to each other, or all he has shown me of his heart, I do trust him. Cillian is a good alpha who wants only to care for me.

One who doesn’t need to lie to win my affection.

His hand goes to my waist, pulling me tightly to him, before he leads us through the steps with unwavering confidence. Even when I stumble through a few, my alpha never falters—never loosens his hold on me or calls attention to my mistakes.

His earlier efforts to conceal his excitement were for naught; the thick length of his desire remains trapped between us. Each subtle movement is a torturous, teasing reminder of what’s coming once our turn about the room is complete. And while I may be inexperienced in the ways of carnality, what I can feel tells me I have no need to doubt this alpha’s capability to bring me pleasure.

When the music swells into its final crescendo and the need for release has become near unbearable, the king dips me. He swiftly chases my body with his own and buries his face against my throat.

The position puts me at the perfect angle to feel the weight of a watchful stare on my skin—one I’ve felt many times in my dreams. Warm, hazel eyes appraise the king and me together, and I swear I can smell fresh earth mixing with Cillian’s briny sea.

The massive alpha with dark russet brown hair tied up in a knot is practically salivating as he watches on. He isn’t of noble birth; of that I’m certain. But, like the last time we crossed paths, his attitude speaks of his right to regard me with such brazen appreciation. His smile is downright devious, as if he’s proud of how the king handles my body with such sensual care.

Though I should be properly appalled that another alpha looks upon me with such open lustfulness, the thundering of my heart indicates a far more salacious emotion.

Before I can explore why this stranger’s mere presence is so exhilarating, Cillian pulls me upright. His frenzied panting when he whispers against my ear turns my body molten hot.

“I need to be alone with you now, darling. Need to touch you—pleaseyou. Would you like that?”

Gods, yes.I would indeed.

Our omega is a vision tonight in Namarian green, one who has the king thoroughly mesmerized. With Cillian wound so tightly around her little finger, there’s nothing he would ever deny her. But would she deny me if she knew the truth?

Jealousy is an ugly emotion and I, for one, have never had much use for it. But after all this time spent waiting, she still doesn’t even know my name. I’ve had to be a very patient alpha—more so than the others. At least they’ve gotten to experience the warmth of her affection, however brief.

Meanwhile, I’ve been courting her from afar, watching as Cillian gets all the credit. I can’t fault my packmate, as he’s done me no wrong. If he were his father, I would have never been allowed the chance to win her heart. He would simply hoard her away for himself, watching as the warmth of her light was slowly extinguished. But regardless of reason, I crave the recognition the king has received from our mate.

I desperately wish I could have seen her when she received her flowers this morning. I spent hours agonizing over the arrangement—one that would not only fill her quarters with a lovely fragrance, but also mimic her soft beauty. The latter was an impossible feat, but I tried my best just the same.

Our omega deserves to be spoiled with silks and jewels, but such fine courting gifts are more suited to Cillian and Oran. Better I express the intention to make her mine in ways unique to me. Especially while I’m being kept in the shadows.

I was never meant to attend tonight’s feast, and if I were a smarter man, I would’ve stayed far away. Regardless of Cillian marrying Ivy, her family is still on Namarian soil. Who’s to say what a powerful alpha like King Hawthorn would do were he to learn his sister was scent-matched to the likes of me. Imagine what a riot it would cause if my petal-soft mate scented me in front of all these people. Were she to rush into my arms, as she did with the king, all our agonizing waiting would have been for nothing.

I need to leave before some drunken, noble prick gets his knickers in a twist at my being here. Though I’m not sure if any would speak up, given my friendship with Cillian is no secret among the court. The triplets and I grew up like kin inside these halls.

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