Once Upon A Pack (Royalverse #1)

Chapter 38

thirty-eight

NO KNOTS ALLOWED (PRINCESSES ONLY)

Jasmine

Heard a rumor that *someone* convinced the heartless Duke of McAffry to find funding for a whole children’s hospital?

That’s some iconic pussy power, babe.

Ivy

Did you honestly just type the words “pussy power”?

Jasmine

Did *you* honestly just fuck the monarchy into spending $52 million?

Ivy

I mean…

*Technically* no?

Jasmine

So you’re saying the duke’s doing this without even getting laid?

Like I said.

Iconic.

An itch beats in my blood like its own separate pulse.

My shoulders twitch, tweaking higher. Outside, each raindrop that hits my study’s window feels like an individual distraction.

The spreadsheets laid out in front of me are important. If for no other reason than because Dair made them. Himself .

Ever since Ivy blew us away during our first public appearance, he’s been a man on a mission. Last night, after Bast and I purred Ivy to sleep, Dair spent thirty minutes pacing at the foot of the bed, whisper-shouting about how “terminally fucked” our healthcare system is.

He had a point. And when I asked him what he thought we should do, he tossed me a look that somehow managed to be indolent and determined at once.

“We change it,” he’d said. “Obviously.”

That’s where he’s been all day—meeting with some of The Crown’s biggest financial supporters, trying to make good on his promise to our omega about getting the children’s wing funded on his own.

I know Bast is supposed to be having dinner with her and keeping her company while I work, but I can’t stop the tingling sensation that streaks up my spine every time Ivy’s scent rises off my collar. I haven’t seen my princess since breakfast, but I have a feeling the strength of her mark doesn’t matter much. I’m pretty sure her scent would still be obvious to me, even if I wore this shirt into the downpour currently sweeping across Lyledon.

I’ll have to get used to living on traces of her. It’s been almost two weeks since we brought Ivy to the palace, and here I am: alone. At dinnertime. In my study. Working.

It’s been this way most nights, which is actually pretty normal for us. The guys and I have never observed formal mealtimes together—and I usually work into the night.

Having Ivy here makes it depressing, though. I wish I could leave and go find her. Take her up into her nest and help her rearrange it for the millionth time. Hold her and kiss her. Maybe slide a bit closer to that line we haven’t crossed yet.

Part of me loves the waiting. Rolling around until neither of us can breathe, then tucking her safely into my side. It feels right in the strangest way—exactly what we would have been doing as teenagers… if I hadn’t been such an idiot.

Mornings have become our designated time for that. Bast leaps right up at dawn, off to work out and lay out our omega’s clothes. Dair refuses to sleep inside the suite for some self-loathing reason he’s only vaguely explained, so he usually slogs off to get some actual rest once we’re awake and Ivy’s fed. Leaving me to soak up a few precious moments with our mate before I have to get ready.

Sometimes, she lets me feed and dress her. The attention makes her a little skittish, but I plan to wear her down. There’s no better way to start the day than making sure she’s taken care of. I only wish I could end our evenings the same way.

We’re all still adjusting, but our omega has settled into life here as seamlessly as I could have hoped. She spends her days under Maman’s tutelage and has even made friends with Princess Ahmad. If she’s not with the ladies, we usually find her walking the grounds, tending to the menagerie Bast talked me into allowing.

After the press dubbed yesterday’s outing an unmitigated success, I know Ivy also plans to visit a number of other charities next week. That’s the sort of thing she loves; caring for others. The people and animals without anywhere else to go.

I should have known that would make her a fantastic future queen. The fact that I ever spent a moment doubting whether she could handle life as a royal shames me.

I woke up to dozens of articles heralding our mate as a “princess for the people.” The photos of her playing with sick children are an internet sensation. It seems everyone loves her guileless kindness and her genuine desire to connect with others.

Which means I wasn’t just wrong about her being a beta; I was also wrong about her ability to live with this role.

When I sent Ivy away, part of me did it to protect the girl I loved. She seemed so soft and innocent. I worried she’d be miserable in the face of all the pressures and injustices we manage. I thought joining me and taking on the power she never wanted would either crush her… or make her into a stranger.

I knew I’d never be able to live with myself either way.

But I was wrong . So wrong.

If yesterday proved anything, it’s how Ivy being Ivy might just be exactly what my people need. A queen who understands their struggles and sits with them. Someone to empathize and take my hand and explain what needs to be done for those who can’t help themselves.

And if the papers in front of me are any indication, she isn’t just bolstering our subjects. She’s helping us . Bringing our pack together; inspiring the best in everyone. Even Dair.

I hate myself for ever questioning her.

When I close my eyes, I can see Ivy’s face in my bedroom at Maytown Manor. I can hear her broken sobs, repeating all the doubts I planted in her head ages ago.

God .

The apology I gave her wasn’t even close to sufficient, but I still haven’t found a way to talk to her the way I need to. Alone. With humility. And the right words.

If I’m honest, that last part is the real problem. Or, rather, the fact that I truly haven’t had thirty damn minutes to myself since we got back.

I wanted to wait until my official gift for her was finished. But is that an excuse? Am I really just keeping myself busy to distract from feeling sick to my core about what I did to my mate?

I look down at the mounds of paper scattered over my desk and realize, Maybe .

Probably .

Outside, rain pelts the palace. Each droplet a reminder of another rainy afternoon. And all the mistakes I made that day.

Definitely .

I spin my leather desk chair, pivoting to face the arched window built into my study’s stone wall. My eyes track the raindrops, watching them roll down the glass.

It’s a proper storm. Not the weak, drizzly sort of weather we had the day I made the biggest mistake of my life and sent Ivy away. More of a true downpour. Like the afternoon I knew I was in love with her and gave our omega her first kiss.

She had always been a pretty girl, but that was the first time I realized she was beautiful , too. The way she tipped her face back and laughed into the rain. The water soaking into her white shirt, molding it to her body. Her graceful, spinning circles.

There wasn’t a single ray of sunshine in the whole sky, but her face glowed . It took me years to figure out; all that light came from her .

The silver locket in my pocket feels a bit like a hot coal, burning a hole against my hip. Ever since I found it, I’ve carried it with me every single day. Unable to let go of the proof that my lost mate somehow, miraculously came back to me.

It’s another thing I need to apologize for. I’m sure she’s missed her locket—if only since it appears to be the one piece of jewelry she owned before we brought her here. I need to return it, eventually. I just want to make a slight addition first…

A quiet knock taps at the thick oak office door. I sigh and toss my reading glasses onto the desk, rubbing my eyes.

I don’t particularly want to deal with Holden and his chronic scowl. He’s probably brought me a dinner tray, though.

“Yes?”

There’s a long beat of hesitation, which isn’t like the butler at all. I sit forward, frowning. Is it my father? He normally just barges wherever he pleases.

But, no. As the heavy door swings open, the scent of shortbread winds into the air.

Ivy .

She hovers on the threshold, biting her lip. Looking small and soft and lovely in a white summer dress. The garment is about as casual as her wardrobe allows—loose, billowing sleeves and long, floaty skirt, all thin cotton. I notice her feet are bare, and my mouth automatically quirks up.

She used to run around the manor without shoes on. I love that she feels comfortable enough to do that here.

Warmth expands in my lungs, coloring my voice. “Hello, darling. I was just thinking about you.” Ivy’s cheeks turn pink, but she hesitates. I frown. “Is everything okay?”

Our princess nods shyly, taking a few careful steps forward. “I brought you something,” she peeps, holding up a brown paper bag. “Can I come in?”

Always. Forever. Anywhere.

“Of course you can,” I tell her, impressing how much I mean my next statement with a steely beat of alpha determination. “You can come in here and any other room whenever you want. This is your home, too. I’m your alpha. You can always come to me.”

Her scent sweetens, even as she blinks in shock. “But what if you’re in a meeting, or negotiating a big treaty, or about to be on the news?—”

“Doesn’t matter.” I shake my head, opening my arms in invitation.

Ivy doesn’t even glance around at the pomp of my study. The carved bookcases and priceless art don’t interest her. She comes right to me instead, sliding into my lap and setting her paper bag on the desk.

“You’re my princess,” I whisper. “You belong anywhere I am.”

She clearly doesn’t believe that. Or can’t , probably. My voice drops lower, melding with the quiet purr in my chest. “If we were to bond, you’d always be with me. All the time.” I feel my brows furrow. “Would you hate that?”

It’s impossible to ignore the way apprehension fills her features any time the subject of bonding arises. I know she has doubts about being here—being ours—but we’ve never talked about this part. Now, I wonder how much she even knows about the process, given she grew up thinking she was a beta.

Ivy shakes her head slowly. “I actually think that would be my favorite part. Never feeling alone. Never…”

I trace the lines of her face with my gaze. “Never…?”

She swallows, pink sweeping over her cheeks. “Never losing you again.”

Fuck.

Fuck .

My throat tightens, shame and devastation strangling me. I force myself to breathe around them, gazing into her while I vow, “That won’t ever happen again. No matter what you decide.”

The wariness lurking in her eyes carves deep gashes into my middle. I put that look there. And I’m going to take it—take the pain—because those are my crosses to bear. Not hers.

So I let her search my depths, looking for the insincerity she won’t find. If I need to, I’ll sit here and let her examine me for any traces of doubt every damn day.

“I do… have questions,” she finally says. “About bonding.”

My cock jerks as images fly through my mind. I barely manage not to shoot my groin an annoyed look, but Ivy scents my arousal and the answering irritation. Her soft pink mouth quirks into a cute smirk.

“I’m pretty clear on that part,” she tells me, looking at my trousers. “Jasmine was fairly thorough with her explanation. Not that she would know from personal experience…”

There are few things I want to discuss less than another omega. Now that we have Ivy, I find it hard to remember that other women even exist . To me, they never really have. Even before I got Ivy back.

It was always, only her.

Wrapping my heart in ivy.

Sighing, I settle back and snuggle her in my lap. “Well, if you want us to bond, the whole thing is actually pretty simple. I’m the pack alpha, so I would bite you first. Then you could either get bites from the guys next or bite me back to complete our circuit. It works either way.”

She nods, but the motion has a tight, breathless quality. Her voice squeaks slightly. “And you’ll all be able to hear me? Inside?”

I nod into her crown, dropping a kiss there. “Yes. You’ll hear us, too. But there are internal curtains for everyone. We’ll each be able to close our sections of the bond if we ever need a break. And we will all understand if you need to do that sometimes, darling. Having three mates is a lot. We respect how much work that will be for you.”

She slants a teasing look up at me. “Even Bast?”

Her wry tone has me chuckling. I can picture my packmate’s exuberant ass pouting whenever she wants peace and quiet. Clearly, my mate knows him well.

“Yes, even Bast,” I assure her, flexing a solid bit of dominance. “He doesn’t have to like you taking time for yourself, but he will respect it.”

Ivy’s perfume swells, her lips falling halfway open on a quiet inhale. Turned on , I realize. She likes it when I flex my power.

And, God, I want her.

But I owe her a real apology first.

To distract myself, I look down at my desk. When I raise a brow at the paper bag she set there, Ivy smiles shyly. “Banana bread. I know it’s your favorite.”

Surprise and a thick wash of emotion fill my throat. “Is that why I suddenly started finding it on my breakfast tray when we moved into the manor? Were you having the cooks make it?”

She shakes her head, her easy expression revealing how oblivious she is to the way her next statement strikes me. “Oh. No. I made that at home and brought it in for you. But this time, I had to use the fancy kitchen, so it might taste a little— mmmph .”

A purr and a growl tangle in my lungs as I find her lips and part them with my tongue. Unable to stop myself.

It was the silliest, smallest thing. But those treats—which always seemed to appear on the days I woke up questioning how much longer I could hold myself together—were one of the only things I looked forward to.

Before I found her again.

Desperate regret and soul-deep gratitude suck all the air from my chest, leaving my heart a burning, sinking star. How will I ever tell her what she means to me? Will she truly stay and be mine? The way we were always meant to be?

Ivy giggles quietly and breaks our kiss, giving me an amused look. Relief bleeds through my chest as she cuddles close, rubbing her face against my collar. Marking me. I tighten my arms around her, brushing another kiss onto her crown and turning us back to face the window.

“I need to talk to you,” I murmur, swallowing the lump in my gullet. “I’ve been meaning to for weeks.”

Ivy’s buttery sweetness darkens as she leans back to study my face. “Ash,” she whispers. “You don’t have to keep feeling guilty forever. You didn’t know . None of us did.”

I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have cared either way. And I’ll never forgive myself for hurting you. And for doubting you. For putting us in this situation where you’ll always wonder if I only want you because of your designation.”

Her full lips turn down as she places her cool fingers over my chest, spreading them against the tattoo hidden there. “I don’t wonder about that,” she whispers. “I—I always knew you only sent me away because you thought you had to, Ash.”

But how is that possible? When I did everything I could to convince her—and myself —that I didn’t love her or want her?

Ivy’s crystal eyes shine as she reads the doubt in my expression. “No matter what,” she adds, “I’ve always known you . I still do.”

Her meaning hits like an arrow to my abdomen. Because I believe her. From the second we met, she’s seen me in a way no one else can. And she remembers that pure, un-princely version.

All these years and everything I put her through. The mantle I’ve had to put on. The titles and duties and airs.

She still sees me in here. Underneath it all.

It will be the same for her, I realize. No matter where this takes us—if she’s our queen, the mother of our children, producing heirs for an entire kingdom …

She will always be Ivy to me.

The girl spinning circles in the rain and wishing on stars.

Twined around my heart. Part of me.

Is it the same for her? If it is, I never want her to lose that version of me. I want her to keep him. Me. Forever.

My voice is hoarse when I finally manage, “Will you make sure I don’t forget? Who I really am?”

Her gaze shimmers. “I’ll remind you,” she promises. “Every chance I get.”

I have the same duty to her now. She might be our princess. My queen. But I want to make sure she gets to be Ivy, too.

Sudden inspiration strikes. I shove to my feet, holding her against my chest as she gasps a laugh. “Ash! What are you doing?”

I smile despite the ache at the very center of me, striding out of the study. “Taking you somewhere only you and I know.”