Once Upon A Pack (Royalverse #1)

Chapter 62

sixty-two

Once upon a time, there was a lonely prince.

The image is so clear. A pond and a willow tree. Fog rolling across still water.

And a boy with a book, pretending to look busy as he reads all alone.

I’m not sure how I know he’s just pretending, but the way it feels to have to act like a kid who doesn’t want friends… the pain of that curls tight in my lungs, coiling right in the spot that squeezes tears into my throat.

Just as the story’s narrator drops off, another, deeper voice picks up. Which was sort of a problem, it says, because this story also has one very pissed-off duke.

The picture ripples, darkening at the edges. Turning into a dusky mansion with despair piled in its shadowy corners. And then there’s the young duke—with wild eyes, black hair, and bruises on his wrists that are so deep purple, they rival the ink painted up his forearms.

I watch him flex his fingers, those dangerous eyes glinting with determination. The sentiment echoes in my stomach—a scorching smolder of resolve. He will get out. He will find a way to make sure this cursed house ends up in a heap of ash. Even if he has to burn it down himself.

At first, I think the pride that swells in my chest is my own—the reaction to his staggering inner strength. But then, the first narrator speaks again, more solemn.

The two misfits somehow ended up forming their own pack, thanks to help from their friend .

A third, much more amused voice cuts in — who was much better looking, infinitely charming, and a world-class athlete… but still, against all odds, equally lonely.

The image glimmers into a new one. This time, the fancy house in the backdrop is a clean, happy place. But the young man throwing a squash ball against its white-brick walls—while gorgeous, blond, and built—is decidedly alone.

A dozen more clips just like it follow, memories from when the light-haired boy was younger. Opening Christmas gifts on his own, kicking a soccer ball against a tree, watching his parents drive away, knowing they’d be back but also knowing, while they were gone, he was on his own.

The first voice fades back in, explaining a new picture of the three men as young adults, sitting around a dinner table. For years , it says, they tried their best to make their own family . But as time wore on, they found themselves feeling just as alone, even with one another .

The next round of mental video clips is hard to take. My eyes are closed, I think, but I still feel the twitching sensation of a would-be wince when the angry, older faces of the three alphas flood my mind.

They needed something to bind them together. A mate , the most serious voice tells me. But the lonely prince was already in love with a girl he once knew. The only person who had ever made him feel less alone .

The roughest one interrupts, And the duke had a similar problem, since he was obsessed with a woman who pieced him back together in an alleyway. Someone so kind and good, she did everything she could to heal him even when he tried to break her apart.

Breathless pain accompanies that thought, followed by a deep river of regret. The third one adds, Meanwhile, the handsome baron had no idea he’d accidentally fallen for the gorgeous woman who talked to squirrels and folded their laundry .

All three storytellers flash their own images of the women they describe.

Except it isn’t three different women.

It’s just one.

It’s just… me .

…

Oh no .

Am I dreaming ?

Has all of this been a dream ?!

Panic bolts upright inside me, my brain staggering to process everything through the lens of reality. Those men weren’t royals from a fairytale; they were Asher, Dair, and Bast. And they were—they?—

Did I make all of this up?

A beat of surprise thuds behind my sternum, followed by an overwhelming rush of tenderness.

No, darling , the first voice— Asher’s —speaks in my center. It wasn’t a dream. Just us. Our story .

I told you guys we should wake her up , Bast groans, full of restless worry.

Dair answers, his tone grumpy in a wry sort of way, You told us to wake her up with a cunnilingus competition. Which I thought had merit, but the prince wanted to be romantic .

Asher laughs at his packmate’s internal eye-roll. The warm sound echoes internally and somewhere outside my consciousness, too. We’re all princes now, technically .

The last time I had a brand-new voice in my middle, it wound up being a whole thing . So this? Three of them?

It takes me a second to remember how to inhale… and open my eyes.

Asher’s beautiful face looms over me, his eyes warm with affection and a touch of concern. Hello .

I don’t think I’ll ever get over how adorable he is when he’s acting shy. An involuntary grin breaks over my face. Hi .

Soft lips brush the claim mark branded into my palm, Dair’s rough-edged rumble entering my mind. I told them I’d punch anyone who woke you up.

But he won’t, Bast chirps . Because he loves us.

Shut up , Dair answers, but his mouth curves against my skin . And, behind him, Bast grins bright enough to rival the sun. His sky-blue eyes find mine, full of pride and gratitude.

That one look is what finally forces it all to sink in.

I did it. We’re all bonded .

We’re also… outside? My head lolls, and I see we’re lying on a palette of blankets, including my very favorite silver one. It’s seen better days, frankly, but the scents embedded in the satin have every receptor in my brain pumping out geysers of pleasure.

Overhead, the branches of a weeping willow whisper back and forth on a breeze. The air is cool, with the distinct crispness of autumn. When I turn to the left, I see Maytown Manor’s small lake, dotted with lily pads.

Bast crawls to my side, bending to scent-mark my cheek, my chest, my shoulder. Which is right around the time I notice we’re all totally naked. And we’ve left the makeshift nest they built for me.

My blond alpha seems to read my mind, his eyes creasing in chagrin. “Are you upset that we’re outside, angel? We were going to stay in the bedroom, but then my Alpha kept shoving at me to get you out here.”

The old Dair might have let Bast take the fall for the decision, but my mate ? He shakes his head and admits, “I thought it was a good plan, too.”

Asher’s soft hazel gaze traces my face. “You were dreaming about the gardens. And the lake.”

Dair’s smirk smooths into something much more genuine. “It was nice,” he murmurs. “I like your dreams, little dove.”

I like this , he adds through our bond. You and me. All of us .

He doesn’t just like it, though. He loves it.

I can feel that—his overwhelming gratitude, with glimmering edges of awe. Bast adds his own burst of appreciative amazement, putting on a cocky grin. “See? Told you he loves us.”

Dair huffs, grumbling a “yeah, yeah” while he lowers his face to my belly and nuzzles. I run my fingers through his unruly hair, sending him a tentative beat of thanks. Trying to get used to the feeling of sharing my feelings this way. He nestles closer, pressing a kiss to my bare skin as his eyes close and his purr kicks up.

Asher shifts, propping us both up and sitting behind me. His fingers start working through my waves, unraveling tangles while Bast updates me on everything I missed.

It warms my heart that the very first thing he does is fish out his phone and swipe through dozens of pictures of all my Everdeen creatures. My ducklings, squirrels, birds, and Andromeda. He’s gotten daily reports from the groundskeepers and stable hands, ensuring all my animals have their usual food and attention.

I was in my haze for six days. And during that time, their team managed to get Matilda detained without bail, find the pawn shop she sold Mama’s sewing table to, and discover that her ashes were still at the apartment. She pawned the urn, apparently—and I feel all three of my alphas brace at that, waiting for me to spiral. But I only feel relief.

“Can we… there’s a plot for her beside my father’s, but I couldn’t afford the burial and the grounds fees…”

Bast looks mildly horrified that he never thought to ask. Dair snarls softly, huddling closer, apologies and protective promises funneling from his section of our bond. Asher simply tucks me back into his body, his voice solemn. “Consider it done, darling. Whenever you’re ready.”

The others both nod fervently. I smile at Bast, not wanting him to feel bad. “What else, my lord?”

Toffee sweetness deepens as his lungs expand, his smile returning. “Well, we told Maman we won’t be having a bonding ceremony. Or, rather, I told her.”

Asher shrugs, hiding a smirk against my shoulder, right beside his bond mark. “You were already her least favorite, little cabbage.”

Dair outright laughs, his eyes full of surprised approval he directs at Ash. “That was a good one.”

I roll my eyes at them, reaching out for Bast’s hands. Squeezing them as I give a pointed look. “I think what we all mean to say is thank you . Right, guys?”

Asher’s smile widens, and he nods. “Yes, thank you Bast.”

Dair mutters his agreement, showing us his true appreciation inside. I have a feeling there will be a lot of that—outward grousing while only our pack gets to see the real him. Somehow, I can’t imagine anything better.

Soaking in my utter contentment, I stare out at the pond. Watching the water and listening to a nearby sparrow. A sudden beat of anticipation and nervousness stretches between the three of them. Asher snuggles me closer before I can ask why.

“We have a gift for you, goose.”

His nickname has me grinning, recalling what Bast told me that day at Everdeen. As Dair sits up and the former baron hunts for whatever present they’ve gotten me, I meet Ash’s eyes and whisper just to him, Geese mate for life, did you know that?

Absolute adoration swells inside him and smolders in his eyes. Yes. You said you picked that nickname, but I think I decided to keep calling you that because part of me always knew you were mine. At the very least, it was wishful thinking .

Wishes and dreams. So many secret hopes that have come true. Asher hears my amazement and presses his mouth to my bite mark. His claim. Shivery tingles roll down my back as I perfume.

Dair’s intensity hasn’t diminished one bit. If anything, he looks even more feral for my scent and pleasure than he was before. As Bast produces a periwinkle velvet pouch, my wild alpha stalks over on his hands and knees, stealing my lips for a lush kiss.

He pulls back when I’m gasping and cocks a dark brow at me. My favorite crooked grin graces his features. Later, Your Highness .

Sebastian kneels at my other side, presenting their gift. “We hope this is okay…”

Dair nods, his eyes bouncing between mine. “I know Maman explained that our pack will need a new crest now that we’re bonded. I took a shot at sketching something, and the guys liked it… but if you don’t…”

I reach for him automatically, laying his claim mark on my palm over the one I left on the back of his hand. Squeezing, I smile at him and Bast in turn. “Show me!”

Bast fishes out a delicate strand of silver. It takes me a moment to realize—it’s my locket. The one that fell off the night I ran from the ball. My face whips to Asher, who smiles wryly. “I told you I’d have it cleaned and get the clasp fixed…”

With shaking fingers, I take the small heart charm from Bast. It looks beautiful—polished to perfection, on a brand-new chain that doesn’t have any bent links. “It’s perfect ,” I breathe. “Can I put it on?”

Asher nods, taking the necklace from our packmate and draping it around my throat. He fastens it slowly, then runs his fingertips over the sides of my neck, remembering the day he untangled this same piece of jewelry from my hair… and gave me my first kiss.

He gives me another one. A soft brush of his lips along mine.

I pull back to sniffle, immediately plucking the locket up and lifting it for a closer look.

“Open it,” Dair murmurs, pressing my palm to his cheek. Watching me with an adorable pinch of nervousness between his brows.

I snap the small heart open, revealing a brand new plate of silver, carefully crafted to fit where a photo might. The sliver of precious metal is engraved. Etched with the image of—of?—

Our new crest , Asher supplies.

Dair’s design is perfect. Unlike the current Everheart crest, ours has an anatomical rendering of a heart at its center. One surrounded by a bright halo, with thorns wrapped artfully at its base.

It’s… the three of them.

Asher as the heart, Bast as the flare of light, and Dair—the thorns poised to protect us.

And surrounding all of it?

A delicate drape of ivy.