Once Upon A Pack (Royalverse #1)

Chapter 49

forty-nine

Ivy’s words swirl through my mind, replaying in a loop.

“What if I’m not supposed to be a queen?”

Unlike the first time she confessed feelings that broke my heart, this time, I absorb every word.

Because this is the last time I’ll ever let her think them.

All the days I’ve spent worrying and wavering only drive me forward faster. The second our group slipped out the side door of the reception hall, I bent and gathered Ivy off the ground, wordlessly storming down the passage leading to my ultimate destination.

I feel her anxious curiosity and the guys’ too. But just like the day I stormed into the rain with my omega in my arms—in this moment, I know exactly who I am and what I’m about. I don’t need to analyze it or pick it apart.

Striding without pause, I carry Ivy down the wide marble hallway. When I drop my gaze to her face, an ache rebounds through my chest.

She doubts herself—but, more importantly, some part of her still doubts us . And I hate how much sense that makes after the way we started out.

It’s time to show her just how committed we are. That she owns us, body and soul.

Even if we had a picture-perfect fairytale, I think believing in this might still be hard on Ivy. It’s fine to want a different life…. But despite all of her wishes and daydreams, my mate struggles to believe she can actually have good things.

Or, moreover, that she’s worthy of them.

But she does. No one in the world could deserve more than Ivy. And no one else could possibly bring this pack together the way she has.

My girl. My mate.

Kind. Quietly dazzling. Unfailingly selfless.

Our queen .

If we can convince her.

Her scent deepens with every step. The warm sweetness of it beats in my blood by the time we round our last corner and approach a set of double doors.

I’ve had guards stationed here for weeks. Ever since we gave Ivy the tour of Everdeen and she seemed particularly enamored with the old throne room and all its pack-focused glory.

She doesn’t know I’ve had it restored for us. To turn it into the sort of space our omega will love .

I nod at the men flanking the entrance, waving them off. “Go. Now. And keep everyone out of this corridor.”

They react to the dominance rolling off me in thunderous waves, breaking rank and racing up the hall to follow my orders. Bast shoves the double doors, pushing them in to reveal the moon-drenched room beyond.

Silvery light streams through glass stained in every imaginable shade of blue. Filtering moonbeams that cast long, watery shadows over the carved ceiling.

Instead of dust and tarped antiques, fresh paint and clean carpet greet us. Particularly the long, pale blue runner I selected to go with the only piece of furniture left in the room.

A throne.

Built for four.

The design took a while to figure out. I looked at separate seats for each of us, but then…

“I had that made,” I tell Ivy, absorbing her wide-eyed blink. “For us.” Lifting my head, I look at Bast and Dair, too. “All of us.”

My mate’s teeth sink into her lower lip, the expression so familiar and beloved, I bend to kiss it right off her face. She responds instinctually, fisting my lapels and tugging me closer.

Yes , I think, wishing she could hear me. Willing her to. Take me. Use me.

The rush of perfect perfume that explodes into the stillness has us all growling and groaning. My feet move, carrying us closer to the dais at the head of the chamber.

Instead of sitting on the ornate, oversized loveseat, I set Ivy at its center and step back. Dair starts to swoop toward her, but I hold up my hands, halting the guys on either side of me. Needing Ivy’s full attention.

“Why do you think I selected this design for our throne?”

She swallows, nervous azure eyes flitting to the creamy fabric beneath her. “I—I don’t know? Shouldn’t there be three chairs? One for each of you?”

My hand snaps up to my tie, ripping it loose. Ivy’s gaze tracks the impatient motion, her gaze glazing as her perfume rises in a fresh tidal wave of sugared gold.

I shake my head. “Couldn’t do that,” I say simply, shrugging off my jacket and stepping out of my shoes. “Do you know why?”

Beside me, Bast catches on and starts quietly removing his clothes while Dair stares, his focus narrowing on my profile like a laser. Ivy bites her lip again, stammering when I start unbuttoning my shirt.

“B-Because… none of you wanted to be in the middle?”

I might smile if my insides weren’t a churn of molten urgency—climbing hotter, burning higher—and love so deep, it carves canyons in my soul.

She needs to understand this. She needs to believe .

My pants come off last, boxers and all. Until I’m completely naked, standing at her altar.

And—no. Fuck all of this to hell.

I’m going to kneel at her altar.

She gasps when I go to my knees, placing both hands over hers. Slowly pushing her skirt up her thighs while I gaze into her depths.

“Because if we had four chairs, only two of us would be next to you,” I tell her. “And none of us is willing to be the one who doesn’t get to sit by your side.”

Silence engulfs the throne room. So still, I can sense Dair breathing harder behind me.

Bast is undressed, too. He looms to my right, still standing and reaching out to cup her porcelain cheek. “This way, no one will be left out,” he adds, so very gentle with her. “And we can always be together.”

Dair approaches last, his steps heavy and slow. He waits for her wide eyes to shift to his before he finishes, “It was always supposed to be like this, Ivy. Because I belong here. And that means you do, too.”

I’d be lying if I said his words didn’t hit somewhere deep and unhealed, smoothing the torn edges of an old wound. When my scent shifts, Dair’s forearm knocks my shoulder in a gesture of camaraderie.

“I know,” he mutters to me and Bast. “Took me long enough.”

Smirking, I turn back to Ivy, letting her take in the look on my face. The way my scent has brightened. Showing her, again, that she’s done this.

Brought us together. Made us into a real pack.

She’s the reason the thought of taking this throne doesn’t fill me with dread anymore. She’s the reason Dair believes he has a place here now. She’s the reason Bast finally has somebody to care for him the way he’s cared for everyone else.

Two months ago, I’d never noticed how much my packmate did to keep this unit from falling apart. Now, with Ivy at our center, his effort is so obvious. Just like Dair’s self-deprecation.

She helps us understand each other.

It’s our turn to help her understand her value. Her self .

There’s a zipper along the side of her bodice. I unfasten it and rear up, peeling the iridescent material off her. Bast takes it from me without a word, carefully laying it over the low gold railing enclosing the sides of the dais.

The way an attendant would treat his queen’s gown.

She watches him come back to her side and drop to his knees next to me. Bending to kiss her hand, but keeping his head bowed, closing his eyes.

He loves her, too. It’s clear in every line on his face—Bast knows exactly how it feels when she flutters her lashes and turns her hazy eyes to mine. Her focus dips to the ink etched over my heart. The organ that bleeds and burns just for her.

Ivy saves Dair for last, slowly lifting her chin to look up at him. He stares back, brows folding low. Something unspoken passes between them, sharpening his scent and salting hers.

I’m surprised how easy it is for me to read them. Now that I know he never thought he belonged here… And she doesn’t believe she does, either.

They truly do understand each other .

Dair traces a thumb over her cheek, his stark black ink so striking against her peachy skin. His chest rattles with a purr that loosens her bare shoulders. She shivers, and I wrap my arms around her hips, parting her legs as I pull her to the edge of the throne. Her silk panties slide over the velvet cushion, eliciting another quiet gasp.

Still locked in their gaze, Dair starts stripping with his free hand, making quick work of his vest and shirt. Ivy’s gaze trails over his tattoos, her perfume deepening.

Bast cracks a smile at her reaction, nuzzling his grin into her palm. “Mm. I think our princess is needy.”

I know she is. My Alpha has snapped to the surface, snarling at the sight of the growing damp spot between her thighs.

Bast truly dresses Ivy like she’s a gift to be unwrapped. I hook my fingers into the bows tying her panties at her hips, tugging them free as Dair steps out of the last of his clothes.

And joins us on our knees.