Page 25 of The Princess and the Pack

“As if you couldn’t tell, I very much enjoyed it.”

“Yes, but are you fulfilled, my heart?”

“I’m truly full, husband.” I laugh, which only serves to make him groan. “Knotting is…”

“Fucking grand,” he moans.

We laugh, kiss, hold each other until his knot releases us. My alpha is quick to wrap me in his arms, letting my head rest on his chest so I can feel the way his heart beats for me.

“Stay in my chambers with me, Ivy. From this night on, I don’t ever want to be parted from you.”

“Yes,” I whisper, a grin on my lips.

Cillian hums, pleased by my easy acceptance. “Sleep for now, omega. But we’re certainly far from finished.”

The edge in his tone ignites an ache between my legs, tempting me to take him on this very instant. But I do as my alpha says and reach for what small rest I can grab before he wakes me again.

We have a long night of exploration ahead, and a year of missing each other to make up for.

Sloan’s earthy scent hits my nose before I witness the big oaf entering Cillian’s study. I’ve always had a keener sense of smell than my packmates. But while I can perceive their alpha signatures easily, they don’t call to mind the carnal urges that come with our omega’s apple-custard decadence.

Sloan believes we can better pick up on one another because we’re all Ivy’s alphas—says it makes sense we’d be able to recognize each other as a predestined pack. The fables we were told about Fate-blessed mates never spoke of this, but who’s to say those tales weren’t simply revisionist history?

Why would they tell Cillian or me stories about packs, when only the common folk engaged in such a “hedonistic” custom?

Never mind that most of the noble alphas I know have multiple bed partners outside of their marriages. How their deception and infidelity remain acceptable, while packs are looked down upon, is a mystery to me.

For ages, I attributed Sloan’s scent to the hours he spent rolling around in the dirt. I envied him in that sense—how he never had to worry about his image and could simplyliveas children are meant to do.

Despite my initial resentment of his freedom, and thus of him, Sloan has always taken special care to look after Cillian and me. Though only a year older, he took us under his wing and showed us all the ways we could find mischief inside the castle grounds.

My father never liked that the soil-covered son of the groundskeeper was allowed such access to us. But the former king saw no harm, so who was he to kick up a fuss?

Growing up with the triplets, Sloan, and Tiernan—another noble who ran wild with us—is likely the only reason I’m not a complete bastard like my father. They gave me hope that the world wasn’t full of pompous pricks who wouldn’t know familial love if it slapped them ’round the face.

I’m still abitof a bastard, and Sloan should know better than to come looking for me on a night like this. “Not good company tonight,” I call out before draining my drink. If Cillian gets the privilege of our omega’s undivided attention for the night, I’m getting drunk off my arse on his good mead.

“When are you ever?” Sloan laughs, ever amused by his own foolery, and joins me by the fire.

“I want to bealone,O’Malley.”

“I’ve known you too long for you to be lying to me.” Another one of his chuckles at my expense, and I don’t blame him. It sounded like a load of shite as soon as it left my lips.

Rolling my eyes, I offer him the mead. I’d get him a glass, but what’s the use? He takes a long pull straight from the bottle, as I knew he would.

“Are you jealous?” I ask, trying my best not to betray my true feelings to the ever-steady alpha beside me.

“Areyou?”

Fuck’s sake.Should’ve guessed he’d turn this back on me. Sloan always thinks he’s slick when trying to get me to open up. But to be frank, of course I’m jealous—have been for a year, and I hate myself for it. Maybe if I could see her, speak to her, this covetous nonsense eating at my insides would settle.

Cillian and Sloan are my pack—my oldest and truest friends. But Ivy is my mate. I think, even if we all claim her, a part of me will yearn for her constant attention. I’m selfish, though—with her I always will be.

“Only a bit,” I lie, schooling my features in an attempt to save face. He won’t understand this gnawing, dishonorable ache in my heart.

Sloan is the prime alpha this pack needs, what with his unwavering confidence and the knowledge he brings. While Cillian may rule our kingdom, in our pack life, Sloan is the one we trust most to lead us. He’s the balanced hand we require in a situation as precarious as the one we’ve found ourselves in. He also possesses an uncanny ability to bring levity to most situations. With the king’s excitability and my pessimism, it most certainly helps in keeping spirits light.

Sloan just laughs that jovial fucking laugh of his, slapping my shoulder. “Goddess wept, you’re a terrible liar. You know that?”

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