Once Upon A Pack (Royalverse #1)

Chapter 33

thirty-three

I’ve never really understood the phrase “shit fit.”

Well.

My Omega definitely does.

As Princess Ahmad’s rich white-chocolate scent drifts across the queen’s parlor, the floor shifts under my feet. For the first time ever, the voice at my center is angry .

She doesn’t see an unimaginably elegant princess or her blinding beauty. She sees competition .

Another unbonded omega. One with more natural appeal and poise than we have.

The princess floats into the room, her asymmetrical red dress sliding around her legs, revealing a slit that nearly reaches her hip.

Great , my Omega thinks. So she’s sexy , too?!

I shush her, trying to ignore the way my stomach flips inside out when her sweet scent hits me. It’s… a good scent. Have the princes noticed that? Did they like it, too?

I wish I had Asher’s poker face right about now. Princess Ahmad flits her deep brown eyes over my entire body, pausing in particular places—my bitten nails, my unpolished toes… and, oh my God … the fading bruise Dair left on the inside of my left knee during our limo ride.

Oops .

Didn’t notice that this morning.

I could swear this woman knows I have no panties on. Her dark gaze lingers on my hips for a long second as humor flickers on her red-painted lips. Finally, she extends her hand and pins me in place with a frank stare.

“Nice to meet you, Princess…?”

“Ivy,” I correct, mostly because I have no idea what my title is. Surely not “Princess Addison,” and we aren’t bonded, so I’m not “Princess Everhart” either. “Just Ivy, please.”

She nods, her satin-smooth black hair cascading over one richly tanned shoulder. “Ivy, then. Lovely to make your acquaintance. Selene has told me so much about you.”

Selene?

She calls the queen Selene ?

My Omega wants to snarl, but Princess Ahmad only smirks wider, clearly amused by my shifting scent .

Heavy footsteps distract us for a moment. An enormous alpha wearing all black steps into the room. He silently takes up residence beside the door, folding his hands in front of his broad body and snapping his focus to the princess.

Her sweet scent tweaks higher at the same moment her lips do. “My security,” she explains, eyes sparkling while they land on mine. “You understand.”

I don’t, actually, but a nod seems best. Queen Selene calmly joins us, setting a gentle hand on the puffy sleeve covering my upper arm. “Our Ivy will learn soon enough. I doubt Asher will let her leave this palace without two armored cars full of men.”

That image shoves a bolt of panic into my gullet. My answering laugh is a bit too squeaky. “Uh-of course not.”

The queen motions to our tea tray, urging us to sit. I slump back into my seat as Princess Ahmad perches herself across from me, perfectly crossing her ankles to the side without missing a beat.

As our hostess, Queen Selene insists on serving the tea. Even that makes me feel inadequate—she doesn’t spill one single drop while I can barely hold my saucer with how hard I’m shaking.

Princess Ahmad notices. Her gorgeous face folds into a frown while she watches me try to steady the china.

“Ivy has hardly had half a minute to get situated!” the queen exclaims, smiling kindly. “It’s a wonder she hasn’t run off for the hills with all the demands we’ve already put on her.”

“Mm.” Princess Ahmad nods sagely, her Cheshire Cat grin returning. “Have the princes already started trying for an heir? So soon?”

I choke on my tea, coughing into the cup. The Princess raises a sculpted black brow. “Oh dear. Did I misspeak?”

Queen Selene laughs merrily, patting my knee. “Not at all, but I’m sure they’re still… hammering out the details of such… delicate matters. Producing royal heirs can be quite a handful. Especially since I know Sebastian wants his very own polo team.”

Oh. Em. Gee.

A whole polo team ???

Wheezing, I finally manage to get enough air into my lungs to clear the spots covering my vision. The princess regards me quizzically, like I’m a puzzle she can’t figure out. “Is it the bonding ceremony, then? I must admit that gave me pause, too. The thought of so many people watching . In the room .”

She shudders, and Queen Selene’s grin takes on a brittle quality as my mind races.

The royals bond in public ? As in… at a church ? For everyone to see?

Surely not?

But the look on the queen’s face confirms my worst fears. Clearly, she was subjected to this public bonding tradition and she didn’t like it one bit, either.

That doesn’t bode well for us, given they’ve been bonded for close to forty years. Having such an intimate thing on display like that would have been mortifying back then, too… But they didn’t have to deal with video apps and live-streaming and memes —oh Lord ?—

“Your Majesty?” Duncan reappears, standing on the threshold with his head ducked once more. When the queen nods, he continues, “There’s an urgent call for you from His Majesty.”

A flare of alarm sparks in my chest, but Asher’s mother only rolls her eyes. “He and I have very different definitions of urgent,” she mutters to us, throwing in a wink. “I’ll be right back, mon amies .”

In a swirl of silver and cream, she makes a graceful exit. Duncan follows at her heels, leaving me with Princess Ahmad and the bodyguard she pays no mind to.

Her brown eyes track the way my hands tremble around my teacup and saucer. Something dark creeps into her expression.

“Ivy.”

Until she says my name, I don’t realize I’ve been staring at the floor. Keeping my eyes averted. The way servants do.

Our gazes snap together. Hers narrows.

“I am the fourteenth Princess Ahmad, heiress to the Amizi Empire. Daughter of Shah Umar Ahmad the Sixth. My family has been in power three times longer than Asher’s—and, unlike this country, ours is an absolute monarchy. One that’s five times larger than Crenmore, with a militia to match. We export oil—one of the most lucrative resources in the world—and have mines of rubies and riches you couldn’t begin to dream of.”

I feel myself shrinking with each sentence, crushed by the weight of her words. Her power .

If this is my competition, I am toast.

But then she sits forward, casting me a conspiratorial smile. “So it might be best if you look alive , babe.”

When my mouth drops open, she laughs. A genuine sound full of warmth and abandon. “I’m only partly kidding,” she goes on, slanting her sparkling eyes back to mine. “There will be plenty of bitches trying to tear you down—but I’m one of the most influential omegas your alphas courted. So if you can handle me, you can handle those hoes.”

Hoes?

Did the future ruler of Amizi just say “hoes?”

And, Lord—do I like her more because she did?

I can’t help the small smile that twists my lips. “Which hoes?”

Princess Ahmad’s air is blasé, like all of this is old news. She sets her saucer on the table between us, waving her hands around to indicate our surroundings. “Everyone, basically.”

When I blink at her, she takes pity on me with a kinder smile. “Look, I get that you’ve had about twenty seconds to get yourself together, but we’re going to have to work fast if you want to do this.”

My brows crease. “Do what ?”

More sly humor. “The princes , honey. Selene says you’re their scent-match. So I’m guessing you don’t really have a choice.”

The thought of doing the princes has me smoothing my skirt over my legs. Specifically, Dair’s love bite.

Princess Ahmad’s mouth curves. She flashes a quick look at her guard, probably to make sure he isn’t staring right at her before she bends forward and tugs at the neck of her dress, revealing a series of similar bruises wreathing the top of her right breast.

I gape and she smiles wider with a shrug, bouncing back to her original stance. “Don’t worry about the marks; I have my own from someone back home. It’s an alpha thing. You’ll learn to hide them. And your princes will learn not to be so painfully obvious.”

My face must reveal how dubious that seems. She gives another shrug. “Or maybe they won’t. That could be fun, too. More ways for you to mark your territory.”

I can’t understand what she’s saying. What she’s doing—talking to me like this. Like… she wants to help? Or support me?

Princess Ahmad somehow manages to look even lovelier when her face softens. “I’ve heard about your mother,” she adds. “My mother died when I was very young; becoming an omega without her guidance was… difficult. I wondered if you knew any other omegas. If anyone had helped you or answered any of your questions.”

Gracie tried, but she’s an alpha, just like the guys. And aside from the queen—who I absolutely cannot ask—I realize Princess Ahmad has a point.

But can I trust her?

Why is she still here if she has no intention of going after the princes for herself?

She watches my face for a long moment and sighs, her smile resigned. “Might as well ask me and get it over with. ”

I remember what she just told me—there are dozens of pretty, polished, titled omegas like her. All vying for my alphas. The thought has me squaring my shoulders and raising my gaze directly to hers.

“Do you want them?” I ask. “Is that why you’re still here?”

Something like approval streaks through her eyes. “No. I don’t want the princes. I never have—but my father wants them for me. And that will not happen.”

Understanding and relief wash over me. She doesn’t want us to be friends—or, rather, if she does, it isn’t just out of the kindness of her heart.

For some reason, that settles my doubts better than pure intentions would. She has a stake in this, too.

“You need this to work out to save yourself from being married off?”

“Something like that,” she admits, settling into a much more casual stance. “Besides, you’re their mate, not me. Now that they’ve found you, they’d be miserable without you. So it’s pretty important for everyone involved that we get you sorted out and turn you into a proper princess.” Her eyes glint. “Or at least a perfectly improper one.”

I can’t quite help the dubious way I squint at her. “And you’re going to help me?”

She smiles widely, as if pleased I’m finally showing some spirit. “No. You’re going to help yourself .”

I might not be royalty, but I like to think I’m not a complete moron. And even if she’s just trying to trick me or use me… wouldn’t it be better if she thought I was oblivious?

So I smile. “All right, Princess Ahmad. You have a deal.”

The gorgeous future empress grins. “In that case, you should probably call me Jasmine.”

“I don’t know if I can do this.”

My lips move in the reflection staring back at me. Forming the words I’ve been thinking all day. The ones I don’t have the courage to say to anyone else.

But it’s the truth.

Can I do this?

Do I want to?

The sky darkens outside, twilight peering through a strip of windows high above the Omega Suite’s grand whirlpool tub. Any minute now, the guys will come back from their busy days.

I have to find my bearings. I promised I would try. Let them try…

But after ten minutes of staring at my own face, searching for any trace of worthiness, I feel more lost than ever. Sighing, I turn back for the double doors to the suite…

Only to find a darkly-clad figure leaning against the doorjamb. A dangerous alpha, covered in inky muscle, with bad ideas in his eyes.

Dair .

He rolls that bottomless gaze up to mine, seeing everything . Reaching out to me. “Let’s get out of here.”