Chapter Thirty-Five
“ H e will not be gone long,” Bedivere told me soothingly as he and Gawain watched me pace back and forth in my chambers like a crazy person. The same chambers that smelled of Arthur’s allspice scent and reminded me of what my husband was doing.
He sure had left a damned mess in his wake. Everyone in the castle wanted to know what he had meant by creating a pack and I didn’t have the answers to give them.
I couldn’t tell them that I was a woman from the future that had been pulled back in time by magic, could I? I wasn’t sure and that was why I needed my brash husband to get his ass back here and explain to his people what he had meant.
“I know he won’t,” I told Bedivere, every inch of frustration I felt with Arthur clear in my voice. “But I wish he would talk to me before he does shit like this.”
“He just wanted to make sure you were safe if something should befall him,” Gawain jumped in unhelpfully but quickly backed down when I shot him a glare. “Or perhaps he was being thoughtless.”
“I knew you were a smart man, Gawain,” I said before continuing to pace.
Lancelot, who had posted up in the corner of the room with his usual broody expression, just sighed. “I do not know what he meant by doing such a thing just before riding off.”
Without me. He didn’t even have to say the words, but they were there. He had been the most offended about being left behind.
Earlier, we had been going about our usual archery lesson—one of the first since I had kissed him in the forest that night—when the horns had sounded and Lancelot told me that it was a call to battle and that he needed to go to the barracks to suit up.
Except, he had never gotten the chance. Upon making it to the courtyard I had seen Arthur standing in his chainmail and holding a shining helmet in one hand. Arthur had made his proclamation before the entire courtyard of people, making it clear that Gawain, Bedivere, and Lancelot would stay behind.
Irritation filled me once again followed by the sensation of a burning itchiness rippling across my skin.
I was fairly sure I was allergic to one of the early summer flowers that surrounded the castle because my skin had grown increasingly more itchy as the days had gone on.
Bedivere’s soothing presence washed over me as he gently tugged me into his arms and wrapped me in his sandalwood scent.
“I see that you have also joined the pack,” I heard Lancelot say dryly, his words followed by a growl from both of my alphas.
“Watch your tone, Lancelot,” Bedivere said, his voice more angry than I had ever heard it.
I gave the alpha’s chest a little push, looking up into his concerned silver eyes before sighing. “Let me speak with Lancelot alone.”
“Guinevere—” Bedivere began to argue but I cut him off by giving his end of the bond a yank.
Bedivere still looked as if he wanted to disagree with me, but the man eventually let out a heavy sigh before leaning down to press a kiss to my forehead. “Very well.”
I basked in his attention for a moment, surprised at how quickly he had seemed to settle into his place in our pack despite us only bonding less than twenty-four hours prior.
He and Gawain then left the room quickly, shooting last glances over their shoulder before the doors shut with a heavy thud.
“You,” I said, turning around. “Are you angry with Arthur for practically forcing you into the pack with his words?”
Lancelot seemed taken aback by my question, his dark eyes widening with surprise before he shook his head. “No. I am not.”
“But you never sought me out after… after what I did that night.”
The kiss. I had been on a tear at that point, I realized later on after Arthur and Gawain comforted me in the baths.
Insecurity was something I had never dealt with before and I most definitely did not handle myself in a way that I could look back on proudly.
Between Bedivere, Merlin, and Lancelot, the feeling of inadequacy had filled me so potently that I was sure that there had to be some kind of a mistake and there was another omega named Guinevere walking around in the future who was actually meant to be pulled through time rather than me.
The original Guinevere from the myths was blonde haired and blue eyed after all. Me with my overly curly brown hair and brown eyes didn’t really fit into the myth at all.
Then again, the myth had also never mentioned anything about time travel, so what did I know?
“I…” Lancelot trailed off, his gaze drifting away from me. “I did not know how to approach you, your majesty.”
“Guinevere,” I corrected. “If we’re going to be talking about us and the pack, you should call me by my name.”
Lancelot seemed uncomfortable, but he corrected himself anyways. “Guinevere.”
My name coming from his mouth made a sudden shiver ripple down my spine and the itchiness in my skin seemed to increase.
Never before had I wished as badly that I had modern medicine here with me in the past because I really wanted to take Benadryl and go to sleep until my skin had a chance to calm down.
“You kissed me and then did not give me a moment to respond that night,” Lancelot finally said with a sigh.
My face warmed thinking of how I had done the same to Bedivere and Merlin as well. I put my hands over my eyes and groaned. “Yeah, I guess I have definitely developed a habit of running away.”
The confident take-no-shit daughter that my mother had painstakingly raised seemed to have left the building as soon as she died, and now to top it off, I couldn’t seem to face my problems head on. But I was working on it.
If only the past had some kind of therapist to go to I’d be all set, but they’d probably try to stick leeches on me or something, or god forbid, declare me insane.
The scent of bergamot filled my nose. At some point, while I was busy ruminating on my current mental state, Lancelot had gotten up from his seat and come to stand in front of me.
“I am nothing compared to a king, Guinevere,” Lancelot told me softly as he pulled my hands away from his eyes. “I have no lands, no wealth, and no title as it will be passed down to my half-brother.”
“I don’t need any of that,” I replied.
Lancelot’s eyes warmed, but his next words sent a wave of sadness through me. “What could I possibly do for you then? Sir Bedivere and Sir Gawain have use, what could I add to your collection of alphas that they cannot?”
“I am not collecting alphas, Lancelot, this is not Pokémon and I’m not trying to catch them all,” I told him, my voice filled with sarcasm. “I… I think what I’ve really been building is a new family after losing the only one I ever had.”
One thing I had quickly realized upon coming to the past was that I was never alone anymore. There were people here who cared for me—who loved me even. There were no days where I would never speak to another soul at work and then go home to my empty flat with barely any furniture in it.
Arthur, Gawain, Bedivere, Merlin, and yes, even Lancelot had made it so that I was never alone anymore and I liked to think that coming together as a pack would be good for them.
I rarely ever saw Lancelot speak with anyone either and assumed that he was just as lonely as I had been despite being in Arthur’s inner circle.
“What is a Pokémon ?” Lancelot asked, his dark brows furrowing with confusion.
“It’s not important,” I told him with a shake of my head. “What is important is how I feel and how you feel—” A violent twist in my abdomen suddenly stopped me in my tracks.
“Guinevere?” Lancelot asked before inhaling a ragged drag of the air around us. “ Oh .”
It had been years since I had an active heat cycle without using suppressants, so I almost didn’t realize what his exclamation meant until a hot shiver rippled down my spine.
“No,” I groaned, dropping into a squat in front of him as my body seemed to turn against me. “It’s too soon.”
I had only been off of the suppressants for a few months—but my doctor had told me that, when getting off of them after taking them for so long, it could take up to a year for the heat to return.
That was why I paid no mind to my itchy skin and yo-yoing thoughts. I figured it was a byproduct of being yanked through time into a magical land full of hot alphas and new pollen.
But no. There was no mistaking it now: I was about to fall headlong into a heat and my husband was out fighting a battle. Shit. Shit. Shit .
“I shall go and retrieve Bedivere and Gawain,” Lancelot told me, his voice tight as he tried not to breathe in my scent which was undoubtedly wafting off of me in thick waves.
I reached up and grabbed his hand before he could leave.
“I want you,” I said, my voice heavy with need. “ Please , Lancelot, don’t reject me again.”
It was pathetic, but my dignity was going to have to take a backseat as my inner-omega gleefully took over all rational thought.
I felt Lancelot’s fist clench under my fingers for a moment before he let out a long sigh.
“Very well,” he growled and suddenly I was lifted from the floor and into his strong arms. “This is not how I wished to court you, but it shall have to do.”
My back met covers as I was tossed into my nest, my and Arthur’s combined scents floating up around me as Lancelot stood at the edge, staring down at me.
His face was more flushed than I had ever seen it and his normally broody expression was gone and instead replaced with a look so intense I was half-afraid it would melt my gown clean off.
“What must I do from here?” he asked, his voice hoarse as he stared down at where I had piled cushions, forming a low wall around the bed.
It had never occurred to me that Lancelot would not know the instinctual words that seemed to be ingrained into every alpha at a genetic level. He seemed to ooze the confidence that most alphas carried with them—so of course it should have translated into the bedroom.
But now, as I looked up at him and nibbled on my bottom lip, I realized that the alpha had no idea what to say in order to enter my nest. He just knew he couldn’t come in unless I allowed it.
Lifting one slippered foot, I pressed it into his thigh and felt the powerful muscles underneath twitch beneath my toes.
“You have to ask properly,” I told him, my voice sounding nothing like it usually did. I sounded sultry and almost seductive. “Say ‘Guinevere, may I enter your nest.’”
Lancelot scrubbed a hand through his dark, curly hair. “I have never said such words before, your majesty.”
I removed my foot, sitting up abruptly.
“Fine then,” I said with a sniff. “I guess I’ll have to do it by myself.”
Tugging at my dress, I pulled it down around my shoulders and was suddenly grateful that Andrivete had chosen a loose one after hearing me complain about my itchy skin.
Even still, it now felt like too many layers and I wanted to be free of them as soon as possible.
Balling the dress up, I tossed it in Lancelot’s general direction, making the alpha growl as I hiked up my shift and pulled it over my head.
“Tell me the words again,” he mumbled, his dark eyes on my now naked skin.
Blissfully, I ignored him as I ran my hands down my fevered skin, digging my fingers into the tightness at the base of my neck and running my other hand down along the spasming flesh over my womb.
At their core, heats were meant to get an omega pregnant, the cramps doing their work to pull in the seed of an alpha and encourage the egg released by estrous to take root.
Right now, my slick insides ached to be filled and I had to force myself not to act like an animal and dig my own fingers inside of myself in order to find some kind of release.
“ Guinevere ,” Lancelot finally repeated on an exhalation of a breath, his growl low and dangerous as he stared at me. Yet still he remained a respectful distance outside of my nest.
“You know the words, Lancelot,” I teased, giving one of my nipples a light pinch.
“Guinevere, my queen,” he began, already yanking at his sword belt and pulling it away from his waist. “May I enter your nest?”
Scooting back up against the headboard of the bed, I nodded.
Lancelot stripped out of his clothing quickly—harshly almost—and threw it to the floor behind him.
Like the others, his tanned chest was also nicked with various scars including one that criss-crossed from the top of his shoulder down to his stomach.
I stared openly and unabashedly as he finished undressing—he was more wiry then the others, only a tad broader than Merlin and only in the shoulders. Each muscle on his body was honed as if he had spent thousands of hours working on it, and when I really thought about it, he probably had.
Then he was in the nest with me, bringing his musky, citrusy scent with him. The need I was feeling spiked in a flush across my skin.
Lancelot’s curly dark hair floated in front of his dark eyes as he crawled up the bed to me, his fingers brushing the outside of my thighs as we came face to face.
“You smell of the heavens,” Lancelot whispered, gaze intent on mine. “I fear I have never smelled anything quite like it.”
“Are you sure you want me?” I asked, feeling one last surge of insecurity enter my mind. Things seemed to be moving too smoothly now and I was sure that the other shoe was going to drop at any moment.
Lancelot gave me one firm nod. “I believe I have been ready since I pulled you into my arms the night of the attack on that village.”
My brows lifted in surprise. “Really?”
For the first time I saw a true smile form on the alpha’s face. “Yes, but I have been too much of a, what was it you called me before?”
“A stubborn ass?” I provided, lifting a hand and pressing it into his warm chest, feeling his heartbeat that would, hopefully, soon match with mine.
“Yes, a stubborn ass,” he agreed. “You have a way with words that fascinates me.”
One of Lancelot’s hands drifted up from my side and his fingers trailed down the line of my pulse that was thrumming in my neck and in between the valley of my breasts. The motion created gooseflesh in his wake and I shuddered, wanting to be more than brushed by the man above me.
“These compliments of yours sure seem to be flowing freely now,” I teased dryly. “I always thought you just didn’t like to talk.”
I didn’t add that it always seemed that he hated being around me in general. That obviously wasn’t true now that I could feel his stiff length prodding my thigh.
“What comes from my lips and what I think in my head are two vastly different things,” Lancelot admitted. “And I am uncertain whether it is the drunkenness I feel from your heat or finally giving in out of fear of never being able to experience what it is like between your thighs.”
Lancelot leaned in for another toe-curling kiss, but I stopped him with a gentle hand on his mouth.
“What do you mean?” I asked with a frown.
Lancelot’s lips pursed together into a slight frown, his dark brows drawing together. “You chose Merlin, did you not? To complete your pack?”
I gaped at the man, trying to understand his words. Were men in all times so obstinately obtuse?
Not to mention the fact that he seemed to be finally ready to bare his soul to me… right when I was in the beginning throes of my first heat in years. I was torn between wanting to dig my teeth into his skin and pull him into me and the desire to talk about how I really felt about him.
But even if I was just about ready to light on fire like a bundle of dry kindling, Lancelot needed to know and know now.
“It wasn’t a one or the other type of situation, Lancelot,” I whispered softly.
Lancelot let his hips rest against mine for a moment, his skin feeling cool as he sighed. “But what could you possibly want with me when you have a king, a wizard, a musician, and a wise warrior in your pack?”
“Why do you need to be anything?” I shot back, reaching up to cup the back of his neck. “Why can’t you just be Lancelot?”
“I fear I am not very easy to love,” Lancelot mumbled, his eyes shifting away from mine. “Is it not just our instincts pulling us together like this?”
“You may feel you are not easy to love, but you are also incredibly hard to hate. Besides, even if we did live in a world without alphas and omegas, that isn’t the only reason I felt drawn to you. Not even close.”
Lifting my head, I pressed my lips softly to Lancelot’s, feeling them part after a moment of resistance.
I kept it short so I could continue my speech, spurred on by more than just my desire to feel his skin against mine. No, now I had a point to make in the same way I had with the rest of the pack.
“It’s true you are broody, mistrustful, and infuriatingly stubborn,” I began, pressing kisses in between each adjective used to describe the alpha above me. “But you are also a fantastic brother, unafraid to stand up to bullies like your father, braver than most people I’ve ever met, and a damn good archery teacher. All of those things made me look at you, Lancelot, they made me want you.”
It all sounded a bit like the end of a cheesy romance movie to me, but my words were true and Lancelot had no idea what a movie was, so he was none the wiser.
Then, much to my shock, I watched tears form in the corner of Lancelot’s eyes before he dropped his head into my chest so that I couldn’t see.
“I am… uncertain of how to respond,” he murmured, his breath tickling my skin.
“Just say you’ll be here with me—with us—and become a part of our pack,” I told him, running my fingers through his hair before adding in a tight voice. “And maybe help me through this heat because holy shit does it not feel good.”
Lancelot jumped up as if he had forgotten why we were lying naked in the bed in the first place, his expression shifting into one of desire.
“Apologies, my queen,” he rumbled, his tone shifting as he slid his hands under my ass and tugged me down from the headboard and flat underneath him.
Then, much to my surprise, the alpha began to slide down my front, his intent clear.
“You don’t have to—” I began but was cut off by the look Lancelot shot at me as he pulled my thighs around his shoulders.
The protest quickly died on my lips as he pressed his mouth to the slick apex of my thighs, his tongue darting out to taste me.
My hand shot out above me, pressing into the carved wooden headboard as Lancelot made short work of exploring the folds of my pussy, his tongue circling my swollen clit.
“ Yes ,” I found myself moaning wantonly, all propriety forgotten as I floated on the sensation that finally dulled the roaring flames of my heat. “Give me more.”
Lancelot growled his approval at my words and the vibrations sent more tingles of pleasure rippling out from my core.
His fingers dug into my flesh, pulling me flush to his face as I gripped the headboard, my back arching as I came.
The flush of pleasure overtook the hot sensation of my heat and I settled back down feeling much more content than I had moments ago. Even the cramping subsided for a moment as I lay in the haze of it, nearly oblivious to the alpha above me until I felt the thick head of his cock nudge in between my thighs.
“Not yet,” I whined without any effort, my instincts already pushing me to go again as he slowly pushed inside, filling me completely.
“Hush,” Lancelot purred, the sound awkward as if he had never done it before. “Let me care for you.”
He ducked, pressing his face into my neck as he began to thrust, the solid wood headboard hitting the wall with a loud thud as I was carried off into the delirium of my heat.
After that all I knew was the slide of Lancelot’s skin, the way his knot pressed in and out of me teasingly, and the sound of his ragged breathing as I gave myself away to the sensation of it.
I barely even registered the sharp pain just behind my ear and the sudden existence of another soul in our bond as I drifted off into blessed oblivion.
“Get up!” a familiar but harsh voice barked as a hand wrapped roughly around my arm and dragged me up from where I had been asleep on Lancelot’s chest.
I barely registered the words as a sleep-heavy panic filled me as my eyes flew open to look right into the eyes of my husband.
My very angry husband.
“Arthur?” I asked, my voice slurred as I stared at him in confusion.
Something was very, very wrong with him. In fact, everything about the way Arthur was looking at me was off.
“I leave for battle and you are here bedding my men?” the king growled, dragging me from my nest and destroying the carefully made sides in the process.
Lancelot, who had awoken during the scuffle, let out a low growl. I could feel his anger and confusion at Arthur’s behavior through our now shared bond.
The sound of a sword being unsheathed filled my ears as Arthur pointed the tip of Excalibur at Lancelot’s throat. “You keep that growl in or it will be the last sound you make.”
“Arthur, what is wrong with you?” I asked, trying to pull my arm from his so that I could grab one of the linen sheets and wrap it around my naked body. My legs shook with weakness, and I realized with dismay, that I was still very much in heat.
I groaned as a round of cramps rippled through me and I heard Lancelot make a noise behind me.
But oddly enough, Arthur seemed unfazed by my clear distress.
Reaching out in our bond, I tried to touch it but found it to be completely dark. The bond itself still existed, but I couldn’t access it. It was as if I was being blocked.
“My sister was right,” Arthur said, his voice dangerous as he threw me to the stone floor, causing me to skin my elbows as I tried to keep myself upright. “You are nothing better than a whore.”
His words hurt as if he had taken a whip and lashed me with it.
“Arthur what do you—” but I was cut off by my husband who I no longer recognized.
“Guards!” he bellowed and suddenly the room was full of the green livery of the court of the king of Benoic. Behind them came a much dirtier looking group that I didn’t recognize.
“You brought the Saxons here?” Lancelot hissed as he was yanked from the bed by the men in question and his arms were pinned behind him.
“I do no such thing,” Arthur bit out at the other alpha. “But my sister, Morgana, has lent me her men so that I may root out the corrupted souls within my castle.”
“Corrupted souls?” I asked incredulously. “Have you lost your mind?”
Arthur tossed a sheet over my naked body. “Take the queen down to the dungeons and take her lover as well.”
“Arthur,” I tried, softening my voice as I stared at my husband as if I had never seen him before. Something was clearly very, very wrong with him. If I could just try to reach out and feel with my magic…
But then Arthur turned to me again and I saw a flash of something in his eyes, almost like recognition, before the blue depths glowed a purple color and his expression twisted into hate.
“I loathe a whore,” he spat as I was lifted to my feet by the men in green livery and barely given enough time to wrap the sheet around myself before I was dragged from the room and away from my husband who clearly was under some sort of magic spell.