Once Upon A Pack (Royalverse #1)

Chapter 5

five

My first act as a king?

Outlawing white pants.

Mumbling obscenities, I brush the front of my colorless trousers, scowling at the spot of black lint that won’t budge. Because it is, in fact, a stain of some kind.

See?

Damn things are a scourge .

Although, they look good with this new sweater. And it is summer. For a few more days, at least.

In case there was any doubt, the second I step into the garden, a wall of humid heat slams into me. Great , I think, shaking my head. Because taking tea with what’s-her-face wasn’t already going to be a pain in the ass. Now I get to sweat some more while I do it.

My Alpha—the absolute lunatic that he is today—snarls at the thought. I ignore him, still preoccupied with my pants as I round the first hedge?—

And stop short.

There’s an angel in our garden.

Down on her knees, between the faded white stone of the swan fountain and a row of pink peonies. Dappled sunlight peeks through the nearest wall of greenery, gilding her bangs and the wisps of cool-blonde hair hanging loose around her slender neck.

The skirt of her soft gray work dress pools around her, but scuffed Doc Martins poke out, their clasps pressed into the cobblestones underneath. When she shifts, the movement betrays a run up the back of her stockings.

In profile, I only see certain features. The downward tilt of a pointed chin. Lips that pull into a small, fond smile. The hollows under her eyes and cheeks. Lashes long enough to catch the light.

After a breathless second, she turns. I recognize her and all the air in my chest heaves out on a relieved exhale.

I smile. “Addison!”

Thank God .

Internally, I shake my head. What’s with all this relief ? It’s not like I was looking for her. Our suite will be cleaned by the time I get back from tea with Princess Fake Lips—and there’s literally no other reason for me to trouble our housekeeper.

Maid , my mind corrects.

Because, really, she isn’t even our housekeeper. Mrs. Kemp manages Maytown Manor’s cleaning staff, and she runs an impossibly tight ship. It’s a wonder she hasn’t pulled all her hair out, having Dair here.

If the manor is a tight ship, my packmate is an iceberg.

Oblivious to my inner turmoil, Addison turns to offer a smile. The thin, silver chain at her neck gleams slightly with the movement. Pure innocence and kindness shine in her blue eyes—much lighter and prettier than my own.

She remembers herself too soon, bowing her head and dropping her gaze back to the ground. “Good morning, my lord.”

I sigh. “Addison, we’ve been over this.”

Since I said her name, she’s free to glance up at me. The small twitch of her petal-pink lips betrays her amusement. “ Lord Burns,” she scolds, flashing a look that somehow manages to be impish and submissive all at once. “You know I can’t call you by your first name.”

My blood thumps, resurrecting my aching cock. Fuck . I went at it all night and it did nothing. Except maybe make me hornier?

Seriously, what the hell ?

Maybe it’s Addison. The way she’s looking at me—like a perfect angel, begging me to play with her—is exactly what I like.

I lock the thought down, even as my dick twitches in my starched pants. Addison is our employee—and she works harder than anyone I’ve ever met.

I know just how hard her life is from the numerous little conversations I’ve finessed her into. The last thing she needs is trouble from the likes of me.

But, damn.

She is pretty…

“Heaven forbid,” I tease, rolling my eyes and crossing my arms over my navy button-down. The pristine sweater slung over my shoulders shifts as I shrug. “I forgot the entire monarchy would fall if you dared to call me Sebastian. Let alone a nickname like Bast. My apologies, dear Miss Addison. You’re right, of course.”

She gives a chiding shake of her head, averting those sparkling eyes as the corners of her lips pull higher. “Lord Burns,” she says again, trying for sternness she does not achieve. “You’ll get us both into trouble.”

I won’t tell if you won’t.

The words nearly come out, but I stop myself. It isn’t fair for me to flirt with her, even if I genuinely like her.

I’m on my way to court some random royal omega right now . Not to mention the announcement His Majesty made this morning, hosting a ball for us to find a match once and for all .

This sweet beta woman doesn’t need me messing with her head. In fact, as I stand there, watching her swallow the last of her smile, I get the familiar instinct that she needs a friend .

I’m not the best with serious topics. I’m the charmer—the one who smooths all the feathers Dair and Asher ruffle. So it takes concerted effort for me to drop my flirtatious posture and fight the discomfort roiling through my middle as I ask, “How is your mom doing?”

It’s been a long time since we first discussed her mother’s health. I make a habit of getting to know everyone who works for us—and, well, everyone in general. But, from the very beginning of our stay here, Addison was especially easy to talk to.

She answered my curious questions about where she was from (just here, in town) and how she came to work at Maytown Manor (her mother was some sort of dress designer for Maman ) and why she wasn’t off at school like most people her age (her mom’s untimely illness).

As the months went on—while Dair death-glared at her and Asher avoided her—I found myself chatting with Addison whenever I got the chance.

Though, somehow, it wasn’t like my polite chit-chat with Mrs. Kemp or the cook who makes my post-workout protein shakes. Or even the ass-kissing flattery I offer most debutantes.

Talking to Addison always felt effortless . Refreshing.

She laughed easily and shared about her life without any hesitation. Never asking me anything personal in return, of course. But suffering my inquires like she truly didn’t mind them. Or maybe even liked them.

That was my first clue that she probably doesn’t have many people to talk to. Her work here is solitary—and she hardly ever leaves. When she’s home, she’s told me, she spends most nights by her mother’s side to give her aunt a break.

Does she ever go anywhere for fun? Does she have someone to tell her how beautiful she looks in the sunshine? Or kiss her until she can’t breathe?

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Down, boy , I snarl at my Alpha. This woman is not for us. She’s our friend.

The fact that I haven’t checked in on her mother’s condition since she shared it with me sends a sudden bolt of shame to the base of my throat. Especially when Addison’s chin trembles slightly.

“She… passed on, my lord. Five months ago.”

My throat dries as everything in my chest lurches. “Addi. Damn it. I’m sorry .”

She tries to smile, which is somehow worse than letting herself cry. “It’s all right, my lord. She suffered for a long time. I’m glad she isn’t anymore.”

I’m about to ask if there’s some way we could help her—though I have no idea how or why —but a small squeak sends me back a step, nearly tripping over my loafers and the polished stone underfoot. Some small rodent-like creature darts to the left while Addison startles, sending a cloud of dry dust puffing up around her.

And my white pants.

I’m telling you, once I have the power to make laws, it’s off with their heads.

Er, legs.

All my thoughts screech to a stop when Addison hums—a soft, warm sound that does nothing for the unfortunate state of my knot. “Nigel,” she says, “There you are.”

Nigel? As in, the squirrel she’s currently feeding from the small bag of crumbs beside her?

It’s too full to be the remnants of a meal. It almost looks as if someone took one of Asher’s beloved loaves of banana bread and crumbled the whole thing up. Smells that way, too.

The sweet, buttery aroma wafts into the humid air, reminding me how hungry I am. I swallow a sudden rush of saliva and shake my head to clear it out.

Jesus, man. Get yourself together .

My Alpha doesn’t listen. He only gets more insistent. Shoving me toward…

The bag of crumbs?

Seriously?

Calm down , I think. We’re going to have tea with Princess Stick-Up-Her-Snatch. No reason to lose it on me over a bag of breadcrumbs.

Still, I have to stoop and pick them up. It’s the dumbest, smallest thing I could possibly do for her in this moment—and Addison seems as confused as I feel, blinking at me until I stupidly hand them to her. She accepts the bag from me with a bemused look.

“I… thank you.” She remembers her manners and adds, “My lord.”

For a member of the manor’s staff, she’s actually pretty terrible with formalities. I’ve noticed it’s a little too easy to lure her into conversation—and she has an adorable habit of eavesdropping. That might bother me, if she wasn’t also the single nicest person I’ve ever met.

No. Seriously.

She works here seven days a week, busting her ass to pay her mom’s medical bills. And the one time I asked what her hobbies were, she looked at me like I’d started speaking a foreign language before admitting she enjoys “making friends with animals.”

I can’t even imagine her gossiping.

And since we moved in here six months ago? There hasn’t been one single security leak.

The thought of her listening in on us simply to satisfy her own innocent curiosity makes me smile wider. “Is this an acquaintance of yours?” I ask, smirking at the squirrel nibbling crumbs from the cobblestones.

Addison flushes pink, grimacing but telling me the truth all the same. “This is my friend. Nigel.”

Okay. Well. That’s… fucking adorable.

Am I just supposed to go on with my life? Like knowing there’s a squirrel named Nigel wandering our grounds hasn’t made my entire year?

“Nigel,” I repeat.

And, goddamn it, the little bastard actually pokes his head up. I laugh before I can help myself, raising a brow at him. “Any chance you’d fancy a picnic, mate? I know of one in desperate need of sabotage.”

The furry guy chitters at Addison, and she sighs, her mortification melting into fondness. “Yes,” she coos to him. “I know. I promised.”

She casts me a quick, cringing glance, sprinkling more crumbs onto the ground. “Nigel likes banana bread, so I… found some for him.”

I’ll have to remember to tell Asher he has the same taste as his manor’s squirrels. Then again, he would hate knowing one of the staff members was feeding “rodents.” Especially out here .

For some reason, he’s always been weird about keeping the staff out of his family’s garden. I don’t want Addison to get in trouble.

“You should probably stay low,” I mutter, thinking of all the busybodies milling around. “I won’t tell, but no one is supposed to be in here except for the royal family.”

She nods, dropping her eyes again. My heart twinges at the chastened expression slamming shut over her features. “Yes, my lord. I only—I was given permission, once. I suppose that doesn’t matter now, though. I won’t come back out here.”

I wonder who gave her permission. I wonder if I could grant her the same latitude. Hell, it’s worth a shot. After everything she’s been going through, I can’t let this angelic woman get kicked out of such a peaceful spot. She seems happy … how could I take that away from her?

“No,” I decide, straightening. “You stay. If anyone asks, tell them I said it was okay.” I toss in a grin. “And please send them to interrupt my tea if they have any questions.”

Addison’s answering smile is almost a grimace. “You seem to be… looking forward to it.”

I kick my shiny toe at a nearby stone, chuckling humorlessly. “I think I’d rather stay here with Nigel.”

She beams at him, then up at me. “He is excellent company, my lord. You could do worse.”

I’m struck by the sudden feeling that, really, I couldn’t do much better than this woman and her kindness. Her soft, strong spirit. Her friendship—the way she looks at me and waits. Listens. Here if I wanted to talk.

Always here. Someone we rely on for a hundred things and never thank. Someone who never complains or contempts.

She’s lovely. And I hate that I’ve noticed . Because now I have to walk away. And stay away.

“I’ll have to take my chances,” I reply.

I turn to go—and, for the first time in as long as I can remember, can’t seem to force a smile.