Once Upon A Pack (Royalverse #1)

Chapter 56

fifty-six

It’s the age-old question—what would you grab if your house was on fire?

Well, turns out, if the palace full of treasures I’ve called my home for my entire life went up in flames…

I would take my mate’s favorite blanket.

We only had three minutes to get ourselves together before we raced after her, and in that time, the silver silk duvet Ivy’s become so attached to was the only thing I told Duncan to pack for us.

In retrospect, perhaps that was an instinct. Maybe my Alpha knew how close his mate’s heat was, even though I didn’t.

Way too close .

Or, rather, we’re too far .

Her nest is over an hour away and Ivy simply isn’t going to last that long without one of us soothing her. By the time we get into the Maybach, she’s whimpering and barely conscious.

After his short quest to rip the apartment apart, Dair returns empty-handed, with a down-right homicidal gleam in his eyes. I suspect avoiding a murder is half the reason he demands Bast hand Ivy back to him.

He carries our omega out, flipping his motorcycle a dismissive scoff. “Fuck it,” he decides. “I’m not leaving her.”

I clap his shoulder, pride warming my chest. “We’ll send someone.”

Two months ago, Dair would have cut off his left hand before leaving his Ducati behind. Now, he truly doesn’t seem to care, gazing at our princess like he has the entire world in his lap. Which, I suppose, he does.

Bast flips his phone in his palm. “I’ve already texted Gracie. She’s unlocking the gates and our suite at Maytown, but she doesn’t want to get her scent on anything in case it upsets Ivy’s Omega. She can send someone to get the bike, though.”

Brilliant bastard.

“The manor,” I realize, relief rushing my lungs. “Perfect. Great idea, Bast.”

He slides closer to Dair, petting Ivy’s hair. “I’m worried she may not even make it there. Her scent is?—”

Earth-shattering. So sweet and deliciously toasted, I feel like I’m breathing gold pixie dust. Or maybe some sort of drug—my vision is sharper with every aching pulse that echoes in my canines.

Dair’s fingers twitch, his purr melding with a low growl. “Don’t,” he grits. “I’m barely keeping our fucking clothes on right now.”

I swallow a thick wash of saliva, meeting his eyes. Checking to make sure I don’t need to snatch her away. I’m surprised by how steady he seems, though. Not because he’s unaffected, but because he’s fighting for control with every breath.

“You should have seen how scared she was,” he mumbles, squeezing his eyes shut and letting his head drop back against the headrest. Distracting himself, I suspect.

“When this is over,” I intone, putting a pulse of power behind every word. “I need you to show me.”

So I can carry her fear with me. Until hopefully, one day, she won’t need to anymore. I hope she’ll let me take that burden—and all the other ones her family left her with.

The doctor’s words from the day she designated come rushing back to me. Ivy’s results are more consistent with an omega who’s been abused.

Because she was . And I missed it.

Maytown Manor is full of shadows.

In all the years my family spent summers here, I never returned after the season. I don’t have time to notice much, now, apart from how quiet and empty it feels. Ivy is in pain—and every whine from her lungs scrapes the inside of my skull.

The words swirling through my thoughts aren’t helpful. The whole ride over, Bast and I mumbled about the pill bottles Ivy found, sending information to Dr. Grant. He said her Omega will either thrive under our attention or go into a traumatized state once her haze kicks in and Ivy can’t calm herself down.

I wish I could feel optimistic, but as we sweep into our chambers and chilled silence greets us…

Ivy has barely moved since she passed out in that horrid apartment. What if all of this has been too much for her? If she comes to and she’s too scared to let us touch her, she’ll suffer .

The fact that we don’t even have a nest for her…

“ Goddamn it ,” Dair rasps, clutching his hair with both hands and spinning in a half circle. “Where do we take her?”

The only nest in the manor belongs to my parents. Obviously, that will need to be removed and completely replaced if we ever want our princess to have another heat here.

I’m not prepared. We didn’t know this would happen—and there’s no time to change anything.

My mind spins, trying to remember everything she asked for in her nest back home. We have her favorite blanket tucked around her small, still body. But the main thing our omega loved was hoarding our scents . Having us cover everything…

“Our mattresses,” I realize. “They’ve probably washed the sheets and towels by now, but our mattresses will have our scents embedded deep.”

Bast and Dair take off. My blond packmate mutters as he goes, “We should bring them to Asher’s room. It’s the only one we’ve all been in together. Her Omega might be able to remember that.”

I agree with a brusque nod. The guys drag the heavy foam pads out of their rooms and across the round living room, cursing and muttering at each other while they try to get them both through my doors. I mentally record the whole production, hoping Ivy might find some humor in it later…

If her Omega accepts this. And still wants to bond here.

In short order, we have all three mattresses on my bedroom floor, shoved together like a makeshift island. They push my iron bed frame to the far side of the room, against the bookshelves. Wanting to keep anything pointed or hard well away from our omega’s safe space.

It still doesn’t look very nest-like. I note the grimace on Bast’s face and search the depths of my memories for something — any thing…

My eyes land on my armoire. “Here.”

I hand our dozing princess to Dair. With a few brisk steps and a hard yank, I tug a set of deep blue sheets from the bottom drawer of the antique. When I shake them loose, my scent sours with a distinct edge of chagrin.

“Stars?” Bast asks, half-grinning at the pattern. “Seriously?”

They’re clearly sheets for a kid, leftover from my many summers here as an adolescent. When I see their quizzical looks, I clear my throat. “I had these when I was young. One of the housekeepers tried to get rid of them when I got older, but… the stars reminded me of Ivy and how she liked to make wishes. I couldn’t seem to get rid of them.”

Bast’s shit-eating grin has me glowering. He snorts, “Oh, come on. That’s cute as hell.”

The Dair we’ve spent ten years dealing with definitely would have had some ball-busting comments—but this version? The duke who can’t keep his eyes off the small blonde lying limp in his arms?

“She’ll like them,” he murmurs. “You want to put them on one of the beds or something?”

I fight off a smirk and fail, flinging my focus up to the ceiling eaves.

“Not exactly.”