Page 16 of The Princess and the Pack

“Apologies, Your Highness,” he mumbles, getting to his feet. “I was merely checking your sister for a fever. She seems to be all right.”

“All right? She’s unconscious!”

Her tone holds an accusation, and I don’t like the implication. I would never knowingly cause my omega distress. But Rose isn’t aware of what transpired between Ivy and me just now. She couldn’t feel the raw magic tethering her sister’s soul to mine the moment our eyes met. She doesn’t know of this hole in my heart. It will remain unfilled until my mark is on my mate’s throat and we are bound for life.

Oran stands and retreats further into the throng of the frenzied court, leaving me to explain what transpired without his assistance. I understand why—Ivy can’t find out about him this way. Not when her reaction will be scrutinized by an audience who wouldn’t understand. He throws me a sharp look before disappearing from view, urging me to dosomething, and his prior words settle into the forefront of my mind.

“Purr for her. Bring her back to us.”

I cradle Ivy closer to me, tuning out the mayhem surrounding us. At this moment, only her and our budding bond matter. From deep within me, I muster every ounce of devotion, every desire I have to comfort and care for her, and let it reverberate from my chest.

“Come back now, darling,” I plead. “I need you.”

Bliss is the scent of the sea on the wind, the weight of a warm embrace, and the pleasant rumble of distant thunder. Where wildness once ran rampant in my blood, overwhelming each of my senses to the point of delirium, now rests a calm like I have never known.

Something caresses my cheek, practically petting me while the sea swells around me. Thunder roars on, pulsating through my limbs until I’m all but adrift in this state of serenity.

“Wake up, little omega.”

A familiar voice calls out to me like a beacon in a storm, but he’s too far for me to reach. My inner omega demands I find the alpha who smells and sounds like home. She knows, as I do, we’ll find safety in his arms.

Consciousness creeps in—slow but sure—coloring the corners of my vision with the swaths of emerald draped around the great hall. Blinking past the burning light of day, I become aware of my body—how I’m sprawled across a rather large lap and cradled by arms I’ve often dreamt of. As the last of the haze clears, my eyes meet an icy blue gaze full of concern.

“Little terror, you gave me quite the fright,” Cillian says, using the pad of his thumb to stroke along the contours of my face.

His touch is featherlight—his words, whisper-soft, hardly audible above the loud rumble of his steady purring. I’m mesmerized that he would choose to soothe me in such a profoundly intimate way. My intended cradles me tightly against his impressive chest, and I’m happy to burrow into the scent that’s tilted my world on its axis.

He smells of freedom—of wishes carried on the wind and possibilities as endless as the sea.

Cillian is my scent-matched mate; there is no doubt in my heart. The desperate way he clings to me, as if I’m his salvation, is the surest sign. On instinct, my arms loop around his neck so I can further meld into the warmth of his embrace.

Nothing in the world could take me from him at this moment. Nothing, that is, except my overbearing brothers and sisters rushing toward us, barking questions and accusations all at once.

“Are you all right?” Sage shouts, bending to meet me at eye level. My normally stoic brother is damn near hyperventilating, his face a shade of scarlet I’ve yet to witness before. “We will leave right away, Ivy. Say the word.”

“No!” I protest as Cillian does.

Our shared sentiment rings loudly, leaving no room to question our connection. He tightens his arms around me, likely feeling a similar panic at the very threat of being separated. Fate has brought us together in this strange and beautiful way, and I won’t leave him for anything.

“What happened?” Hawthorn barks, clearly unsettled by the turn of events. Outside the safety of his court, no less. One moment he was ushering me toward my intended, and the next, I was being ripped from his side by a frenzied alpha.

“Ivy is…she and I…we…” Cillian rasps, cradling the back of my head and stealing sips of my scent. The act of verbalizing what we both know to be true is a feat for the prince. It seems he, like me, is a bit out of sorts.

“Scent matches,” I manage to finish the thought for him—equally ineloquent. It matters not, for the words spark a giddiness inside my heart that can’t be ignored.

Their rightness resonates deep within my soul.

Gasps and chatter echo excitedly throughout the hall at the news of our good fortune. This is likely the first time a royal wedding has ever been such a spectacle of carnality and precious revelations. I’m certain news of today’s events will swiftly; unsurprising, since courtiers across the kingdoms are known to trade gossip like currency.

“A scent match?” Aspen asks with cautious glee in his voice. “Are you certain?”

“Yes,” Cillian utters before burying his nose in my hair again. He breathes in the scent created to affect him like no other in existence. “I am Ivy’s. Her alpha.”

When the king declares my ownership of him, possessive satisfaction licks at my spine, curling around each of my limbs and stroking a sensual place inside me. It’s so unlike an alpha to defer to an omega, yet he does so without hesitation.

“This is truly a gift! A mandate from Fate herself that our two kingdoms were meant to be united,” Prince Ciaran calls to the crowd.

He emerges from the commotion with Prince Callan at his side, grins wide on their too-familiar faces. Their apparent delight is a welcome relief from the skeptical panic of my own siblings.

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