Chapter 47
forty-seven
PRINCESS IVY’S KNOTS
Bast
I have an…indelicate question
Asher
Is it about my princess?
Don’t make me strangle you.
Dair
*Your* princess?
You mean the one who had my hand around her throat an hour ago?
Bast
If Asher says, “off with your head,” will he mean your actual head?
Or your
Asher
Jesus Christ
What’s your question Bast?
Might as well ask while I’m already having the guillotine sharpened.
Bast
Okay
So
Have any of us prepped Ivy for the part of her heat?
Dair?
Dair
What?
Am I the ass expert?
Bast
Um, yeah
Asher
Thought that was obvious.
Bast
One of us should ask her how she *feels* about it first.
Dair
Say fucking less.
Bast
I wasn’t suggesting you *do* anything, I was just *saying*
Dair
Already on my way.
Bast
Do you really think you can run faster than me?
“You shouldn’t linger.”
Ivy’s whispered warning puts a huge grin on my face. I do my best to keep my steps silent, sneaking up behind her as she kneels on the patio of her newly furnished sitting room.
She looks every bit like my perfect angel. Lustrous blonde waves fanned down her back. Her face glowing with a peachy blush and painted pink lips.
Of course, she pays no mind to the gown I picked out for tonight. The full, iridescent pink skirt is half-folded under her knees, pressed into a patch of grass as she leans forward and exchanges more words with…
A mouse?
Oh boy .
We won’t tell Asher.
“Go on now,” she urges softly, placing a shred of bread on the ground. “Back to the stables.”
The little critter takes his meal and scampers off. I shake my head, grinning. Sometimes, I swear these animals actually understand her.
“We have mice in the stables, huh?”
Ivy startles, whirling with adorably wide eyes. “Oh my God! Bast!”
I love how easily she says my name these days. Not too long ago, it was a struggle to get her to consider it. But now? Over the last few days? We have her “forgetting” panties on a regular basis, wearing Dair’s tattooed fingers like a necklace every night, and taking our very eager instructions on ass play.
So… princess lessons are going well, I guess?
Fond warmth fills my center as she reads my dirty thoughts and flashes me a scolding look. I chuckle an apology, holding out a hand to help her up.
The skirt of her dress isn’t visibly dirty, at least. The thin, diaphanous material floats around her legs, making for the exact type of angelic silhouette I was aiming for.
Mindful of the clear heels strapped to her ankles, I sweep her into my arms and bend to plant a careful kiss on her mouth.
“You’re beautiful,” I say, staring into her eyes.
Her cheeks flush a deeper rose. “You just have good taste in dresses.”
I shake my head. “I just have good taste in mates .”
For a moment, joy shines clear in her gaze. Then, a cloud passes over her visage. “Bast… these are really important people tonight, right? What if I say the wrong thing or embarrass His Majesty or?—”
“Ivy?”
It’s Dair, stalking out of the house with his newfound (borderline-feral) intensity. He scans the patio for a threat, clipping right to our omega and cupping her face with no mind for how close we’re standing.
“What is it, little dove? I can scent your stress.”
He really is the master when it comes to that. Until he mentions it, I don’t notice the faint edge of anxiety browning the corners of her shortbread essence. But I see he’s caught on to something deeper when Ivy bites her lip instead of brushing him off. “I don’t want to mess up.”
He hums, his chest hitching into a purr immediately.
Like the big, gooey softy he’s become.
Asher and I might make fun of him if we weren’t just as marshmallowy over our omega.
My lungs echo his rumbling. Some of the tension fades from Ivy’s posture, and she sways up onto her tiptoes to kiss his flexing jaw.
It works. The tight lines around his mouth vanish, and he dips to kiss her back, not giving a shit if he smudges her makeup.
Dair might be evolving , but he’s definitely still Dair .
Asher strides out next, fidgeting with his cuff link and scowling behind his glasses. “Bast, we need to remember to talk to the Shah about that education initiative for young women in?—”
“I got it,” Dair grunts, not bothering to look up from Ivy.
Asher and I glance at one another. “Uh,” I laugh, “ What? ”
Dair shrugs, turning his dark eyes on us. “I ‘accidentally’ ran into him in the carport this morning when he arrived and reminded him about it. He agreed to fund his end as promised.”
Asher blinks. “Just like that?”
Dair’s mouth twitches up. “I may have also reminded him of the PR issues for Amizi, trying to marry Princess Ahmad off to a bunch of packs she hated, against her will. Plus, it’s a good cause, and he’d already pledged the funding. He caved in.” Seeing our open-mouthed gapes, his shoulders bounce again. “Whatever, it was easy. Took, like, three minutes.”
Ivy grins, smacking another kiss on his lips. “Putting your stalking skills to good use for once,” she teases. “I’m so proud.”
Dair rolls his eyes, but his purr gets more insistent. “Yeah, yeah.”
Asher smiles, clapping Dair on the back. “Thank you. I hate reminding people about philanthropic debts over hors d’oeuvres.”
I wink at Ivy. “Much more suitable for dessert conversation.”
My sweet angel nods with complete earnestness, as if she’s actually filing that bit of nonsense away for future events. I grin into her hair, leaving a scent-mark on her forehead.
“We better give His Highness a turn,” I grumble, noting the way Asher’s fingers flex. “Or he’ll lock us both in the dungeon.”
Asher glowers in my direction, reaching over to pluck Ivy from my arms. “No,” he mutters to her, “but I do have something special for you, goose. If you’d like to see it.”
She agrees, wearing the shy smile that melts the three of us instantly. Ever a gentleman, our prince helps her navigate her way over the marble patio, leading her back into her sitting room.
Our omega really picked a diamond in the rough. This room was tarped and dusty for literal centuries, but with a bit of Ivy’s nostalgia and optimism, it’s been transformed back to its former glory.
I love that she matched the decor to her suite and our nest—all shining crystal, gold and silver trims, soft icy blues, and thin ivory silks. The chandelier is off, but golden sunset light seeps through the windows, illuminating frescos carved into the white stone ceiling and its gilded edges.
The place is gorgeous. But it’s nothing compared to the girl who abruptly trips to a halt in the middle of it all, her hand flying up to cover her mouth.
“Ash…”
On the low table between Ivy’s antique couches, I spy our gleaming silver box. It’s open, with the lid popped up to reveal the tiara nestled inside.
Asher moves slowly, bringing the delicate crown to Ivy. Our omega quivers, gazing at the diamonds and white gold as if in a trance.
Our pack alpha shoots Dair and me a hasty, heavy glance. My throat tightens, and Dair’s jaw grinds.
At first, we weren’t going to press the issue at all. But this week, Ivy’s perfume has steadily gotten more come-in-your-pants incredible with each passing day. None of us want to alarm her, but she’s started exhibiting some other pre-heat behaviors, too.
Like being overly nervous about tonight’s state dinner after attending three of them in the past month. Or nearly tearing up the other day when she accidentally stepped on my foot during our afternoon walk.
The real kicker came after we all got in bed last night. Normally, our omega is a bit inhibited about asking for affection, but she practically pounced on me the second I hit the mattress. Four orgasms were barely enough to lull her to sleep…
Which is how we wound up spending an hour whispering over her head, wondering if this was a step too far, too fast.
We want to be there for her heat and, hopefully, bond with her as soon as Maman can get the big, official ceremony together. But we’re all too cognizant of the fact that Ivy has never promised to stay . Or be ours.
She only agreed to come here and let us court her. We’ve been doing our best—and so has our girl.
This is the next step…
But we’re very fucking aware that this tiara isn’t just another bauble.
It’s a question .
Will she wear this and walk into a room full of world leaders dressed as our future princess? Or will she turn it down and do everything she can to maintain her freedom?
I don’t know.
I’m not even sure what I want her to do. On one hand, of course, I want her to be ours. On the other… I need her to be herself. My earth-bound angel. Our mate.
She has to do whatever feels right to her.
And I have to love her, no matter what.