Once Upon A Pack (Royalverse #1)

Chapter 18

eighteen

I’ve never given much thought to what having an omega would be like.

Anyone who’s ever met me will tell you: I don’t want one. Can’t take care of one. And probably shouldn’t even try.

Well.

Fuck.

Bast is the one carrying Ivy this time. I walk behind them, my muscles thrumming with the memory of having her body that close to mine.

Jesus. How stupid am I? I had her in my arms and couldn’t figure out why the hell holding her made my Alpha feral .

I sense that same wildness now, lighting my blood. Prowling under skin that feels too tight for my bones.

Holy hell, is this a rut ?

Now?

Bad fucking timing when we’re about to walk into the manor’s medical facility and hand Ivy over to a bunch of doctors.

Asher shoves the door open, standing there to hold it. He pauses Bast on the threshold, reaching over and cupping our omega’s cheek.

She’s unconscious, her eyes shut, and her pretty face smooth. So beautiful when she isn’t working or worried.

I bite down on the rage and urgency pounding through me. Telling my Alpha, no .

She’s more important than whatever bullshit we need.

And, frankly, after what I’ve put her through? I can go to hell.

Stuffing it all down comes much easier than I expect. For one, we’re all on rut-blockers. But, more importantly, anytime my pulse gets too thick or my teeth start to grind, I look at Ivy’s face, focusing on the way her body automatically folds itself closer to Bast’s purr.

He has her on an exam table, refusing to let go of her. Asher sits lower on the cot, turning so he can press his own purr close.

The truth stings as it sinks in. They know what to do, and I don’t .

By the time the king and queen’s royal physician strolls into the room, I’m sure our scents are burned to shit. I can’t tell, though. All I smell is Ivy’s buttery, sugared perfection.

So when the asshole doctor swoops in and tries to touch her?—

A dangerous rumble snags in my throat as I press my hand to his chest, walking him back a step. “I will end your life.”

The doctor’s eyes fly wide, snapping to a place just past my bare shoulder. Hunting for Asher, probably. Wanting him to call off his Rottweiler.

Usually, the prince would sigh and scold me. But, right now? An odd beat of silence swells before he manages, “If you could perform the exam without touching her, that might be best.”

Dr. Grant nervously twitches a nod. “Yes, Your Highness. Of course. I’ll try.”

Despite putting on gloves and taking care not to let anything aside from his instruments touch Ivy, all three of us spend the next ten minutes snarling at him. Even Bast.

When the doctor finally steps back, my blond packmate holds Ivy closer to his purr, stroking her head. My eyes fly to the bun hiding all of her pretty hair, hating it. Wondering if, had she not been forced to wear it every day, Asher might have recognized her sooner.

My instincts urge me closer, until I’m at Bast’s other hip, reaching across their bodies to undo the pins. Asher casts me a grateful look I’m not sure I’ve ever earned before. As soon as I finish letting her hair down, he immediately combs his fingers through the long strands.

They’re lovely. The lightest, coolest blonde. Almost silvery, like her ice-blue mask and her locket.

I can tell its texture and color are familiar to Asher—as he massages the place where those cursed pins poked her scalp, his hand visibly shakes. We all pretend we don’t hear the quiet, mournful sound that snags in his airway.

The doctor turns to his work counter, dropping one of the swabs he collected into a flask of yellow liquid. Within seconds, it starts to turn green. When he drops a second Q-tip into a glass with clear liquid, nothing happens at all.

Fuck. The anxiety gripping my stomach is?—

Not new , I realize.

This restless edginess… I’ve felt it for months. Since the day we got here.

Near her.

Which means my Alpha has been climbing my goddamn walls for this woman . And all those drunken nights, the endless need, the urge to fuck as hard and as much as humanly possible. The rage .

My body was trying to tell me something important, and I basically shoved a wad of socks in its mouth and duct-taped it shut.

Shame creeps back into my scent, turning Bast’s head. I’ve never seen our packmate so solemn. When our eyes meet, he doesn’t offer any platitudes or try to make excuses. Instead, his toffee essence chars, and he drops his forehead to Ivy’s, whispering more apologies. Tucking her closer to his naked chest.

Suddenly, I can’t fucking stand any of this.

Shh, little dove.

Would you really say no to a duke?

Don’t leave me. Please.

All this time, she wasn’t planning to use any of it to blackmail me or go viral. She was protecting me. Because the Omega lost inside her recognized her mate .

I never want to see her in this horrible gray dress again. Turning to the nearest nurse or assistant—who gives a shit?—I bark out, “ You . Our princess needs new clothes. Bring her some of mine.”

The girl starts to stammer a reply. “P-prin?—?”

Asher growls , “Yes. Our princess .”

The woman dips into a curtsy and scurries off, returning just minutes later with a pile of clothing. I note with satisfaction that, while she chose our own sweats and shirts for the three of us, the ones for Ivy are, in fact, mine.

The doctor keeps muttering over whatever he has in those damn beakers. I draw the privacy curtain around the bed and turn back to where Bast and Asher are both staring at Ivy. Hesitating.

“Should we call her friend?” Bast murmurs. “Would Ivy want her instead of us?”

Asher swallows thickly. “Which friend?”

I suppress a jealous snarl. “One of our PR managers, Gracie. She’s an alpha.”

We all tense at the thought, none of us able to stomach another alpha putting their hands on our girl right now. Let alone taking her clothes off.

Asher must hate the idea as much as I do, because he sighs. “You two get your clothes on. I’ll undress her.”