Page 2 of The Princess and the Pack

Even with my natural proclivities to admire more than one alpha, my title dictates whom I can and cannot appreciate openly. I can’t wax poetic about the construction of each of their faces and how they radiate both beauty and pure masculinity all at once. I can’t lust after them unabashedly, nor make my interest known without fear of social backlash and the shame that would befall my siblings. No matter how disappointing it may be, such is not my lot in life.

“Testy, are we?” Oran teases, cutting through my haze of untimely lust.

The sound of glass hitting wood rings out through the otherwise silent study, and I stifle a squeak of surprise. The popping of a cork soon follows, and I can only assume the mere mention of me has driven my fiancé to drink.

Lovely.

“It’s just, the princess is quite stunning. Is she not?”

As the words leave Oran’s lips, I nearly tip forward and knock my head on the dark wooden desk. Shocking doesn’t begin to describe what I’ve heard.

Based on Oran’s apparent readiness to aid Cillian in escaping me this past month, I hadn’t expected such a compliment from him. He’s hardly looked at me since I arrived, let alone been stunned by my appearance.

Cillian sighs again, but the tone differs from before. It is almost whimsical, dreamy even. He doesn’t rush to speak, letting the liquid slosh in his glass as he ponders a response. Each second of prolonged silence from my prince is more agonizing than the last.

I can contend with the reality Cillian may not be head over heels for me yet, but if he doesn’t even find me remotely attractive, I’m not sure my plans to win him over will ever work. I don’t wish to marry a man displeased by the sight of me.

“Are you fucking mad?” the prince retorts with what sounds like offense.

I’ve never heard him speak so casually, let alone curse. Still, his obvious distaste sits heavily in my gut. I don’t want to give his words power over my emotions, certainly not after he disregarded me so cruelly, but I’m only human.

I had hoped we could grow to love each other if he found me even mildly appealing. But knowing the man I’m destined to spend my days with finds me repugnant? Agony, deep and clawing, slices through the more tender parts of my idealistic heart.

“Stunning.” The prince chuckles, twisting the knife even deeper. I’m aware my presence is unbeknownst to him, but he could temper the disgust in his voice. Surely, I’m not as unsightly as he makes me out to be. “You bite your tongue,” Cillian chimes in again. “Ivy isdivine,brother. A goddess. My cock has been hard as stone for a month. And when I finally have her? I may just fucking die.”

My alpha’s companion laughs heartily now, amused by the prince’s outburst. I, on the other hand, can hardly breathe. Where I was fighting back tears just moments ago, raging desire now pulses between my thighs. Not even the agonizing cramp in my leg can stop the way my thighs press tightly together at Cillian’s fervent admiration and wanton intentions.

To be spoken about in such a manner should shock a lady of my standing, but I couldn’t care less about what is polite and proper when Cillian’s cock is the topic at hand. I’ve spent many nights in Namara attempting to expel such thoughts from my mind. But I would be a liar if I said I hadn’t imagined my betrothed and his striking, glacial eyes pinning me in place as he bared himself to me. I haveneedsjust as any other soon-to-be omega does, and Cillian is pure fantasy fodder.

Knowing he wants me so carnally is truly a dream come true.

“Too right you are, brother,” Oran says, instantly cutting off his laughter. “So tell me then, youtwat. Why in the hell couldn’t we have bedded her? It’s been agony having her here with her silky voice and perfect tits, driving me mad.”

Cillian growls, seemingly angered by Oran’s crass assessment. Shivers run down the length of my spine at the possessive sound—a delectable stamp of his claim over me. Not once have I felt something so visceral from the prince—never have I had such tangible proof of his affections.

“She is my intended, not some frivolous conquest!” Cillian fires back faster than I can process Oran’s vulgar, and frankly thrilling, outrage. “Do you think I haven’t been tempted to touch her? Each time she enters a room, I’m half a breath from rutting her until she’s dripping with my spend and swollen with my heir.”

It feels as though the room spins with the intensity of the need now pulsing at my center. The overwhelming and obvious emptiness inside me demands to be filled, and the wetness between my thighs only further proves my eagerness.

How they can utter such salacious, primal intentions aloud is beyond me, but I’m in no rush to stop them from revealing more. I’ve never in all my life felt so wanted, sopowerful,as I do now, armed with the knowledge that both these alphas are nearly feral for me.

And contrary to all I’ve been told about what’s good and right, Iburnat the thought of my body being shared between them.

As I remain crouched in a state of near delirium, the insistent cramp in my calf chooses this exact moment to make its presence unmissable. My leg buckles, giving way from beneath me. Before I can gather the presence of mind to catch myself, I tumble forward and smack my face against the hardwood.

Pain, sharp and searing, blooms on my cheek as an unmistakable, resounding thud rings out. I could delude myself into thinking the crackling sounds from the fireplace are loud enough to mask my fall, but the telltale silence from the once-bickering alphas speaks volumes.

My curious nature will yet again be my undoing. That much is certain when dense footfalls upon pale stone draw closer to my useless hiding spot.

I’m sure I’m quite a sight to behold: ruddy-cheeked, nearly panting, and toppled over in nothing more than a nightgown. Truly, I’m the picture of a well-mannered omega princess in all her wholesome glory.

The only question I now have is which of the alphas will witness this utter fall from grace first? Lord Oran Rafferty, who wants to bed me alongside his future king? Or Crown Prince Cillian McKenna, who intends to breed me as soon as he’s able?

The sight of red hair and devastating emerald eyes provides my answer. I’m not sure where my emotions lie, but I don’t miss how my heart flutters at Oran’s appraisal of me.

First, there’s mirth laced in the crinkling of his eyes and his poorly suppressed grin. He gazes at me as if he isn’t surprised that I’m the one in a crumpled heap on the cold floor. I’m sure he will be laughing about this for weeks to come—the princess he’s ignored for nearly a month is now so desperate for attention, she’s resorted to spying.

Next, I detect mischief and the barest hints of pride. Whether he is amused at my boldness for being out of my bed chambers this late, or envisioning how he can use this information to lord over me, I’m unsure.

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