Once Upon A Pack (Royalverse #1)

Chapter 23

twenty-three

Ivy always liked to hide.

I remember finding her in the garden, tucked between two rows of hedges or under the alcove carved into the side of the manor. Usually with her knees folded up to her chest and dirt smeared along the hem of her skirt.

There were other places she liked, too. The back corner of the estate’s library, the extra pantry our cooks never filled. She sewed in there, actually. And she swore there weren’t any mice in the cellar, but I used to find her down there a lot, too. Typically with snacks…

Why didn’t it occur to me that hiding was an omega habit?

It hits me now when Dair and I burst into my room and find Bast slumped on the floor beside my closet. His tight expression doesn’t match the smooth purr he’s put on for her, but it goes well with his burned-toffee scent. I note the large wet spot on the front of his pajama bottoms before turning to the cracked closet door.

Behind me, Dair swells to his full height and fixes Bast with a murderous glare. “I swear to God, if you hurt her…”

An answering wail echoes in my closet. “No!” Ivy sobs, “He’s perfect !”

Bast sighs over his rumbling chest, both brawny hands rubbing his face. “Ivy is… embarrassed about her first heat spike,” he explains, empathy softening his words. “I told her it’s so normal and healthy , actually, but she feels really?—”

She snorts an audible sniffle.

“—bad,” he finishes, wincing.

A new wave of guilt washes over his features. “It’s probably my fault. I’m sure I should have explained everything more clearly and put her under the covers, and I obviously didn’t do a good expressing how fucking incredible she was?—”

It wouldn’t have mattered. I know this version of Ivy; the girl who cries at even the thought of upsetting someone else. And, since this was her first time losing control to her Omega… well, the girl I knew would have been mortified, too.

Damn it. I should have stayed in here. I could have talked her through it. The way I would have if I’d been the one she’d chosen to give this to back then .

But guilt clearly isn’t getting us anywhere. Bast looks like he’d rip his own throat out and offer it to her on a platter if it would help calm her down.

She needs something else.

For the first time in my life, I have nothing to offer. No material wealth or favors or titles. I can’t give her one goddamn thing in this moment. Except, maybe…

I slip my shirt off and hand it to Dair, hoping no one hears my hard swallow. “Hold this.”

He takes it, and Bast moves to the side, ceding space for me to slowly open the closet door. My insides ache when I spot Ivy tucked into the only available bit of space along the edge of the walk-in, between a low bookcase and the door’s molding.

Wide, reddened eyes glisten as light seeps in from my bedroom. She squints through her tears, wiping her nose against her wrist and tucking her bare legs closer to her body. The position is so familiar, I can’t control myself.

Finally— finally —I do what I wanted to every goddamn time I found her huddled in one of her hiding spots during that last, precious summer we spent together:

I reach down and scoop her into my arms.

She’s so upset, she doesn’t even fight me. Poor darling —she’s been through more in the last two days than any of us ever have.

My naked skin works like a charm. She inhales my scent and starts to whimper, hunting for the heat of my throat to nuzzle into. I fold her against my chest, slinging her legs around my waist and carrying her back to my rumpled bed.

It looks like she got her panties on before she fled the sheets, but Bast silently ambles over to sheepishly offer her borrowed sweatpants, too. I wave them off and focus on purring for Ivy, cupping the back of her head against my neck to absorb her sobs.

I decide I’m not going to rush her. She can cry if she wants to; I’ll be right here. Where I should have been all along.

“I know, darling,” I murmur, scent-marking her damp cheek with mine. “This is so much to take in.”

The fingers clutching my back scrabble for a tighter hold. “I feel like I don’t recognize my body anymore, and it’s—” Her voice drops into a whimper. “Ash? Am I going to be okay?”

Ash .

Relief and regret pour through me as I hitch her closer. “Yes, darling,” I vow. “I will make sure you’re okay from now on. You’ll never have to worry about any of this again. Because I’m going to take care of you.”

The way she tenses speaks of the truest form of disbelief—not shock or even doubt.

Mistrust .

And I’ve earned that, haven’t I?

Before I can work up a decent apology, Bast slowly steps closer. “Angel, would you feel better in a nest? We don’t have one here, but there’s one waiting for you in your new suite.”

Ivy hiccups, turning her pale, wet face toward him. The wariness soaked into her features softens when she sees how horrible he feels. Her hand stretches for his automatically—because Ivy can’t help but try to comfort anyone suffering.

Bast folds her fingers into his with a harsh, grateful exhale. He draws them to his lips and kisses her knuckles as she stammers, “N-new suite?”

Anxiety pinches my lungs, darkening my bitter bergamot scent. Dair’s bottomless eyes meet mine, and he sighs in a distinct fine, asshole, I’ll tell her way.

“In the palace,” he mutters, making his displeasure clear. Dair hates the Everdeen Palace almost as much as he hates suits, crowns, and actually ruling the nation . “Now that we’ve found our mate, we’re expected to go back.”

Ivy blinks, processing that. “So… you’ll go back to the capital, and I’ll…?”

“Come with us,” I interject, nodding once. “That was always our plan once we made a match.”

Dair grimaces. “There are a lot of royal traditions around mates and bonding, little dove. I’m sure Maman can explain them better than us, since she’s been through the process.”

I watch her realize he’s talking about my mother, the queen—who will be her mother, too, in a way. If Ivy will let us court her… and bond with her.

Come to think of it, back when we were teenagers, Ivy seemed to think my parents didn’t approve of her at all. Something about the rule my blowhard father made to keep the other kids from interfering with my tutoring.

My hand smooths a line over her spine. “I already spoke with my parents about everything last night,” I add, hoping to reassure her. “They’re happy we’ve found our match, and Maman is eager to meet you again.”

Bast’s blue eyes light with genuine excitement. “You’ll love her, angel. Asher’s mom is waaaay cooler than him.”

I start to smirk, but, as always, Dair is a storm cloud, his expression clapping like thunder over a picnic. “Before we can take you to the palace, you’ll have to agree,” he tells her, quiet and solemn. “To let us court you.”

That was our one stipulation all along—whichever omega we selected had to agree to officially be ours before we brought her back to the capital and introduced her to the world. The Crown can’t afford to allow the public to fall for a potential princess only to have her decide she doesn’t want us after all.

It’s incredible how actually having a mate—and knowing it’s Ivy —has changed everything for me, though. As I watch her tremble, trying to absorb the choice laid out before her, I realize I don’t give a single fuck about public perception.

She can have as little or as much of me as she wants. I’m hers either way.

Her Omega makes her opinion known with a whine. But Ivy’s voice quivers, “I don’t know if I can just...” She blinks at Dair. “You don’t like me, remember?”

His face splits, teeth gnashing. “No, little dove. I don’t like me . It never had anything to do with you—other than how badly my body wanted yours. I was just too fucking stupid to realize it.”

Her wispy brows drop in disapproval. “You aren’t stupid,” she argues. “You were confused .”

Her tone is so familiar, I almost lose my breath. Like that first day in the garden, when she defended her duckling “friend.”

“You aren’t daft, are you Bartholomew?” she’d asked the pitiful pile of feathers. “You’re just lost .”

God, maybe the three of us are. Perhaps that’s the reason divine providence sent us this woman—the girl who couldn’t stand up for herself, but found the strength to champion anyone downtrodden.

Dair doesn’t accept her forgiveness. I see it in the way his chest stutters. He thinks he needs to suffer to prove he’s learned. And he likely has no idea how to court anyone, let alone this sweet omega.

Still, he holds her gaze and rasps, “I was. And I’ll spend the rest of my life making that up to you. If you’ll let me try.”

“Us,” Bast corrects, his hopeful eagerness returning as he squeezes Ivy’s frail fingers. “If you let us try, angel.”

But, ultimately, none of this is really their fault. It’s mine .

Ivy must understand that, because instead of agreeing or spurning them, she turns to me with the same wary hesitation she wore before. Tears well in her eyes as they bounce between mine, reading all the pain I leave plain for her to see. Her scent plummets farther into a salty, melted mess.

“You left ,” she whispers, “You told me to leave. You knew I loved you and how much I cared about you, and you didn’t return any of those feelings.”

I hate that she believes that—but it’s self-loathing, entirely directed at myself. I never said I didn’t care about her, but I certainly acted like it.

Instead of refuting her, I listen as she sniffles, “Why would it be any different this time, Ash? I’m still the same person I was.”

Yes, she is.

And I’ll never know why I got so lucky.

Being a prince gives you an odd sense of pride. When your life is full of people doing everything they can to avoid embarrassing you, humiliation is a hard pill to swallow.

But being an alpha who’s found his omega makes it easy to ignore the way my face burns. I’m going to show her she’s the most important thing in the world. And I’m going to start right now .

My hand drops from her back, coming around to find the fingers that aren’t currently wrapped in Bast’s. I lift them to my chest, pressing her chilled palm to the exposed ink etched into my left pectoral.

Her crystalline gaze drops to the tattoo branded there, the image I got to remind me of her.

A perfect anatomical rendering of my heart, wrapped in delicate vines of ivy.

Our omega gasps. Her burned scent starts to brighten. “A-ash…”

I purr without effort, bending to rub my forehead against hers. “If you’re the same girl I knew,” I murmur, “then you are the one I’ve loved and missed every damn day since I made the mistake of letting you go. And that makes you my queen.”