31. Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty
Lysander
“ W hat is there to talk about?” Teddy bristles, sitting down at the metal table beneath the big square umbrella with Mavren, Ronan, Ash, and I.
Ash raises a silvery brow, fixing Teddy with an appraising look.
“I thought you were the guy who said we should be full disclosure when talking about sex stuff?” he challenges, shoving his lime wedge into the long neck of his beer bottle.
Teddy squirms uncomfortably in his seat, taking a swig of his own beer in lieu of responding to Ash’s question.
“I think there’s a lot to talk about.” Mavren shrugs, his posture loose but his gaze sharp—severe.
“Yeah, as much as it’s new territory to me too, I am inclined to agree,” Ash grumbles grudgingly—doing his best to hide behind his massive sunglasses.
Too embarrassed to actually say anything, I just nod fervently along—adding my approval to the chorus.
“Alright then, why don’t you start off the sharing circle then, Chef.” Teddy smiles, but his words are sour—his smile not quite reaching his eyes.
Mavren rolls his eyes before he begins.
“After tonight, and Lysander’s date—we’ll officially be beyond the initial ‘courting’ phase as a pack,” he begins, his voice smooth and even.
“Everyone will have had a chance to pursue their individual chemistry with Ursula at a more…casual level.” He chooses his words carefully, his eyes meeting each of ours. “At which point, it seems like it would make sense for us to start exploring what our dynamics are going to start looking like as a pack.” He clears his throat at the end of the last statement to regain control, but everyone at the table can feel the tension.
“I know that I, for one, have not been the most…forthright about my experience since getting here,” Ash cuts in—his nimble fingers worrying at a paper parasol from his drink as he does his best to look anywhere other than at the men seated around the table with him.
The three of us lean in slightly, hanging on Ash’s next words—none of us willing to give up ground before the other.
“I’ve always had…pretty eclectic tastes in women,” he begins, doing his best to keep the tremor of nerves from his voice as his fingers begin to pick apart the tiny cardboard supports of the tiny umbrella one by one, methodically. “And I’ve always had a pretty generous sexual appetite in general,” he continues—making his way to the colored paper of the parasol itself, shredding the bright pink material to bits as he trudges on. “It wasn’t really until I saw Lysander and Teddy with Ursula on the dance floor…” he trails off—unable to help himself, darting a quick glance at Teddy and I.
I feel my own face heat, my Adams apple bobbing as I make a bid to swallow—my throat dry as a desert.
“I started talking about it with Ursula, exploring the idea of what it might be like…y’know, between her and…us,” Ash says the word ‘us’ so meaningfully, so tenderly that it momentarily steals my breath to hear it spoken.
I find myself nodding along my hands gripping the edge of the table so hard that my knuckles are bloodlessly white with the effort of it. I wait for Ash to say something more, for him to elaborate—but it seems that he’s used up his bravery—and now it’s time for me to get uncharacteristically reckless.
“I will go a step further…” I pause to clear my throat—using all my power not to wilt under everyone’s sudden attention as all eyes snap to me. “I will admit that I am not only interested in the prospect of what can unfold between us,” I do my best to mirror the tone and affection with which Ash had imbued the word seconds ago. “I am desperate to find out what things are like between us and Ursula together.”
I am no longer the only one gripping the table. My packmates sit around the table—charged, loaded, clutching on for dear life.
“I want to do this right. I want to give our omega everything she deserves—but I need guidance.” I can’t help myself. I look directly at Teddy—his beautiful almond eyes staring back at me with such intensity. “I am going to request that you all come home a little early tonight.” My voice sounds stronger than I feel, though I can feel my fear turning the knife’s edge into gleeful anticipation as I turn my gaze to Ronan—those rainy day sidewalk eyes alight with a mischievous potential. “I want to see where this goes, and I think Ursula does, too.”
There’s a long moment of silence as looks pass between one another around the table. I’m surprised when it’s Teddy who speaks first.
“Sandy’s got more balls than the rest of us to be able to come right out and say it like that, but yeah—I’m one hundred percent on board. I might be new at this whole turned on by my entire pack , thing—I swear to god I’ve spent more of the last few days with a raging fuckin’ boner than my entire teen years put together—which is saying something.” He shakes his head, the rest of us giving in to small chuckles and snorts of laughter. “I can only speak for myself, but I’d be more than willing to show you the ropes tonight—whenever you want.” Teddy grins, sitting back, crossing his muscular arms over his chiseled chest.
Fuck. When he looks at me like that—that challenge, that promise he’ll keep pushing me—as long as I keep pushing him.
If anyone is going to help me show Ursula how I feel, make her feel as good as she can—it’s going to be Teddy. Teddy, and Ronan, and Ash, and Mavren. My pack.
“Teddy is right, for once,” Ronan yawns, stretching like a big orange cat in the sunlight before giving Teddy a playful jab in the ribs and a big pearly smile—and Teddy bumps Ronan with his shoulder—nearly sending his lithe body toppling off of his chair as the two dissolve into laughter.
Ash and I look at one another, his platinum hair sticking out every which way, his ice chip eyes wild with excitement. We share a giddy bout of giggles, like we’re back in school—planning the ultimate mischief.
Only Mavren seems to be slightly withdrawn—his eyes fixed on Teddy, as if he might only be seeing him for the first time in this very moment.
The time between my late lunch with the boys and the early evening beginning of my date with Ursula seems to dilate—the hours feeling like days as I prepare and wait.
Kimmy and Timmy informed me that Ursula and I would be served a private supper in the incredible Jade Museum—an impressive and intimate collection of pre-Columbian artifacts. As such, I made sure that I’d be dressed appropriately for the occasion—a pair of white linen slacks with matching jacket, a hand embroidered silk button down in a flattering shade of pale pink beneath—its short sleeves dotted with tiny white thread blossoms; a spray of tiny seed pearls appliquéd across the shirt’s sharply notched lapels.
I pat down the hidden pocket inside my jacket, the pale blue square of satin pocket lining re-assuring me with its telltale lump—my hidden treasure stowed safely away until the time is right.
Everything is ready, from the secret in my pocket to the last hair on my perfectly coiffed head, but I still turn to check myself in the large mirror mounted in the small vestibule between the open patio and the main living area.
Then, I catch a glimpse of Ursula in the mirror’s reflection—a vision in a little black dress, the bespoke black lace bustier pushing her decolletage to incredible heights, the waistline blossoming into an umbrella of gently shimmering black silk georgette that floats and bounces around her calves as she clicks down the stone steps from the main bedroom. She wears a pair of oversized round acetate frames the color of cayenne pepper—the same hot red shade as her lipstick, and the glossy bottoms of her spiked black patent heels.
“You look incredible!” I beam at her through our shared reflection.
“You look like a perfect tea rose yourself!” Ursula gushes as she tucks her clutch purse—a large resin slab made to look like a giant Mahjong tile, under her arm as she reaches for my shoulder, turning me from the mirror to face her.
I reach for her face, cupping her soft cheek in my hand as I lean in to kiss her.
“So, I know we’re going for dinner—but I don’t know where! Somewhere fancy obviously.” She does a little twirl—letting me see the entirety of her Dior-esque ensemble. Undoubtedly the work of Julian St. James…I’ll have to see to commissioning some more bespoke pieces from him once we arrive home, the man does exquisite work.
“We’re taking supper at the Jade museum tonight.” I don’t mean for the words to come out so formally, so stiffly. For a split second—I could have sworn I heard my father talking out of my mouth. I’m more than a bit disturbed.
“I see Mister Ewing,” Ursula teases me with a purse of her lips and a toss of her shiny french bob. I know it’s meant as a joke—but inside I’m squirming.
“Following dinner, I would very much like to spend some intimate time together with you…and the rest of the pack,” I force myself to say the words, rather than letting my nerves and this momentary discomfort derail all my hard earned progress.
Ursula’s eyes widen—her mouth quirking up on one side.
“As long as that’s alright with you—of course! It’s not that I wouldn’t—that I don’t want more time alone with you…it’s just that, well I thought that maybe it might be a good opportunity to bridge my lack of experience with our general lack of experience as a pack…” I physically bite my tongue to keep myself from rambling, finally giving poor Ursula the opportunity to get a word in.
Ursula laughs that sharp, staccato laugh that makes her throw her head back—her glasses slipping down slightly on the short bridge of her nose.
“Of course I don’t mind Lysander!” She takes my face in both her hands, planting a kiss firmly on my mouth before rocking back on her heels—a hair taller than me with the added height. “As a matter of fact, I’m most looking forward to it, darling.” She hooks her arm through mine, dropping her head to rest on my shoulder.
“Well then, that’s settled. Let’s not keep Timmy and Kimmy waiting.” I smirk, laying a hand over her own.
“At the risk of getting an answer I might not want to hear,” Ursula begins tentatively, her burnished gold gaze fixed carefully on me as we lower our glasses of champagne after my toast—tiny seafood canapes on a three tiered tower between us. “Have any of you talked about what things might actually look like after the whole…‘experiment?’ Y’know amongst ‘the guys.’” She doesn’t play for outright disinterest, but she’s obviously trying to play it cooler than she feels.
“We have, actually.” I place my flute on the white table linen and compulsively smooth the front of my dinner jacket, the imperceptible bump under my fingers like a balm for my nerves.
“Do tell.” Ursula sits back in her chair, her broad shoulders squared—her posture regal.
“Well, for starters—there’s the matter of a pack name,” I begin nonchalantly, though I can see from the twinge in her full cupid’s bow that Ursula wasn’t asking after such a dull tidbit as this. “Since we’ve come together around you, our omega, rather than an alpha pack lead—there had been the discussion of taking your family name.”
At this Ursula winces.
“Woof, I always hated that my pack decided to hyphenate. While inclusive of the family flavor, it is more than a little unwieldy,” she laughs tentatively, obviously not convinced.
“Which is something we also grappled with, so we thought about possibly using the first letters of our last names, or even syllables—to create a new last name, and nothing quite sounded right.”
She watches me intently, waiting for me to spit it out.
“Eventually, we came to the conclusion that modifying your surname to ‘Gold’ might be the best choice,” I explain before hurriedly clarifying with a little joke: ‘Pack Gold, party of 6’.”
Ursula lets out an unexpectedly loud, full laugh.
“Erm, is there something wrong with it?” I ask, utterly perplexed by her reaction. Disgust? Would have hurt, but I would have been able to understand. Adoration? An outside possibility, but I hadn’t thought it impossible, but just flat out laughing in my face? I hadn’t thought Ursula would be so cruel.
“No, no, no! I’m sorry—here you are sharing something with me that you and the boys have talked over so seriously, and suddenly it seems like I’m just shooting your idea down.” She reaches across the small table and clasps both of my hands in hers, a smile still pulled across her face.
I relax slightly.
“It’s just…well, you know—once we revealed ourselves, there was a little bit of the recognition game. Obviously I’m not famous like Ash, or even particularly notable about town, like Mavren—but people have seen me about, here and there, or heard me mentioned in conjunction with my best friend.” She gives my hands a squeeze.
“Daphne Dale,” I supply, without meaning to speak over her. Luckily for me, Ursula just nods graciously.
“That’s my girl.” She grins, continuing on. “Now, I can’t say on camera—because I would never do Daphne or her pack like that, but—” Ursula lets go of my hand and gently pinches her sweating water goblet by the stem. She looks at me deliberately before using her pinky finger to trace a word in teensy print in the condensation on the outside of the glass: ‘Silver.’
She allows me a moment to read the word—sees my features light with understanding, then uses her thumb to obliterate the word on the side of the glass, leaving no trace behind.
“Ah! Now I understand why you were so amused. It is incredibly ironic,” I scoff my own laugh at the situation, my hand once more flitting to my jacket pocket for comfort as a waiter arrives with two beautifully composed salad courses.
“Did you discuss anything else, besides pack name?” Ursula presses on as soon as the waiter has left the table.
“There was some discussion about a possible collaboration professionally between the five of us. Mavren has been talking about opening another restaurant, and it would appear everyone has a little something to ‘bring to the table’—no pun intended,” I say carefully, not wanting to give away too much, while also not alienating Ursula by being too vague. “I can’t say too much because it’s so early on in our conversations.”
“I see,” Ursula hums, her eyes narrowing—a little smirk twisting her lips. “So when you’ve been together you’ve been discussing all business, no play?” She plays at a pout, spearing a tuft of greens and a ripe sliver of mango on the tines of her fork daintily.
“That’s actually a very good segue into something that I wanted to talk about with you, our omega, before I really opened up a larger conversation to the rest of the pack.” I clear my throat, doing my best to keep my voice from shaking.
Ursula pulls the fork from between her lips and lays it on the table soberly.
“Oh?” She becomes very still, her hands clasped together in her lap.
“Like you were saying earlier—after the reveal, a couple things sort of came more clearly into focus.” I make my way cautiously, as if the ground might give way at any moment. “I know we talked about my family’s expectations for me in the bubbles, how I didn’t quite meet those expectations.” I can hear the tremulous wobble to my voice, but I continue on—I have long passed the point of no return, there is nothing to do but lay my cards on the table. “While I may not have been either the alpha nor the omega my parents would have wanted, since I’m still the only child they had…” I trail off—my fingers slipping inside the silk lined pocket of my jacket, the tiny hinged velvet box like a teensy second heart, laid over my own. “If you wish it, we can nest at Redthorn—the estate that had been prepared for me and my prospective pack; before it was discovered I was such a…disappointment.” I swallow down my tears, producing the pale blue velvet box—worn and enchanted with over a hundred years of family-heirloom-exchange, opening Ursula’s hand, uncurling her fingers until it lay flat—and placing the soft, ancient thing in the center of her warm palm.
She looks at me dumbfounded, then at the velvet box in her palm—marveling at it, stroking its domed top gently, as if it were a mouse or a baby bird. Her mouth works soundlessly, Ursula’s eyes snapping back up to fix on me almost accusingly.
“Open it,” I urge her—my heartbeat beating like a timpani under my tongue—in the pulse at my throat.
Ursula opens the box, a ring of brilliant yellow gold fashioned to look like a rose in bloom, its ruby petals captured in carefully placed gold bezels that seemed to rise and fall much like the ridges of a key. Inscribed on the mirror shine inside of the band reads the family name: Ewing.
“Oh my god,” she breathes, barely above a whisper, her eyes snapping back to my face. I can’t tell if she’s horrified or if she’s delighted—neither or both.
“Of course, we don’t have to stay at Redthorn at all if that isn’t what you want. Wherever you want to nest for your first heat, for any heat, that’s where we all want to be. I haven’t even mentioned the possibility to the others yet—because this is a decision that you, our omega, should make,” I explain, praying she’ll say something instead of just staring at the ring in shocked silence.
“I mean—I guess I had anticipated that you were from a well to do family—the way you had talked about schools—and possibly by virtue of your profession.” Ursula turns the box over in her hands—her eyes still big as saucers and fixed firmly on the ring. “But this looks straight out of some kind of princess movie, and I’ve never been the kind of girl who gets invited to the ball—I’m just the plucky-best-friend of the girl who gets invited to the ball.” She shakes her head, still disbelieving.
“I’m sorry.” I squirm slightly, shrugging out of my jacket—suddenly aware of how swelteringly hot I am, now that I’m no longer carrying the precious cargo of the ring pressed clandestinely against my chest. “Is that a yes, or is that a no?” I push my Tokyo tortoise shell glasses’ frames up my nose—my heart still in my threat.
Ursula doesn’t answer at first, just turns the ring over in her fingers—before finally slipping the loop of gold and ruby over her left ring finger—holding her hand out for me to see.
“It’s a yes, Lysander. I still can’t quite believe that this…this fairytale is happening to me.” She blinks a few joyful tears from her eyes. “But it’s a ‘yes’ from me.”
Unable to contain my excitement, I lean forward, eager to cover Ursula’s face in fervent kisses—but in my excitement I knock over my crystal wine flute—the high chiming shatter cutting high and sparkling through the air.
I freeze—worried that my clumsiness has created a bad omen.
Ursula, to my surprise—grins from ear to ear, taking my face in her hands.
“I can’t wait for you to meet Mama, Poppy—Dad, Pops—and my brothers.” She beams before grabbing a hold of her small, empty salad plate and dashes it on the floor with a loud crash and an even louder whoop of “Opa!”
Before I can say anything—she crushes my mouth with hers, her unbridled zest for life coursing through me as she does so.
“Already smashing dishes—and you haven’t even met the Laskaris side of the family yet.” She claps happily—the gold and ruby ring winking from its place on her finger.
We arrive back at the villa after the date, wholly unprepared to be greeted by low candlelight on the terrace; tiny floating lanterns dancing across the surface of the pool.
Somewhere inside, an old Xavier Cugat record plays—the sound of sambas and low woodwind instruments carrying through the balmy night air.
“Did you know they were going to do something like this?” Ursula asks quietly as we walk arm in arm toward the stone steps into the swimming pool—two glasses of gently fizzing champagne, the telltale brown cone of a blunt sit on a bamboo tray, a small note folded beside them, a black plastic lighter and acrylic ashtray weighing it down.
I shake my head, reaching down to collect the blunt, ashtray, and lighter; passing the trio to Ursula—who takes the kit gleefully, lighting up almost instantly.
I unfold the paper, the words Ditch the fancy duds—meet us around back. In artsy scrawl in blue ink.
Dumbly, I realize that I have no idea who the handwriting belongs to. In all of our chatting and business discussions over the past few days—nothing has actually been in writing. It strikes me just how close we are to being relative strangers.
Still, I couldn’t be more sure of what I’m doing as my free hand moves to the buttons of my shirt.
“What does it say?” Ursula exhales a lavender plume of smoke before propping her chin on my shoulder—her eyes scanning the paper.
“I think the boys would like us to join them around back.” I look over the top of the paper—nodding to the trail of gently glowing lanterns on the water’s surface leading around the corner of the villa.
Where one could typically see the nesting room through the floor to ceiling panes of glass straight on through to the opposite leg of the wrap-around pool—there is a gathering of gauzy off- white curtains and soft glowing lights amidst the pockets of night time dark; completely obscuring both the nest as well as its private patio poolside entrance.
“You don’t say…” Ursula cranes her neck—the blunt still perched delicately between her fingers as she steps out of her shoes.
“Well, I’m ready if you are.” I toss the paper onto the bamboo tray and resume unbuttoning my shirt—Ursula’s eyes turning back to me.
“Remember Lysander,” she begins—her eyes following my hands as they drift from the last button of my shirt to the brass buckle of my leather belt. “There’s absolutely no rush, we do as much or as little as you want.” Ursula turns away from me, slowly giving me her back—shoulders bare—an elaborate ladder of heavy silk rope laces crisscrossing the back of the corset-bustier.
I nod—my eyes glued to her.
“Would you mind untying me, Lysander?” She looks back over her left shoulder, and I almost trip over my own feet as I scramble for her so quickly.
Fiddling with the knot doesn’t take long, and before I know it—Ursula has stepped away from me—shimmying out of the dress to reveal a pair of French briefs in black silk—her large, pendulous breasts completely bare.
“There, that’s better,” she sighs, stepping out of the spare black silk panties—giving a gentle stretch. “Here, let me help you,” Ursula purrs, closing the small distance between us—unbuttoning my linen slacks—my cock already starting to stir at the sight of her.
I see her eyes widen imperceptibly as she tugs at the elastic waist of my boxers, the loose cotton falling away to expose my knotless, not yet half hard cock.
Ursula shakes her head gently—a worried smile quirking the corners of her mouth.
“Everything alright?” I ask her—her gaze snapping back to mine with a giddy, guilty glee.
“Oh everything is fine…it’s just something that Ronan said is coming back to me now. I think I can see what he means.” She nods absently—her gaze drifting back downward before bungee snapping back to eye contact.
“What did he say?” I have to focus all of my brain power not to just reach out and touch those incredible breasts—every single thing in my monkey brain is crying out to put my hands and mouth on them, my cock growing harder with each heartbeat.
She places the ashtray and the blunt on a side table.
“That I’m going to have my hands full, shall we say.” She smirks, as if having read my mind—taking my hands in hers—lacing our fingers together briefly, before guiding my warm palms to her hard pink nipples.
We stand there—my hands roving over her soft flesh, gently tweaking the hard nipples.
Ursula moans into my mouth—the two of us leaning against one another—my rock hard cock pressed against the softness of her belly.
My hands are about to travel lower when we hear a faint, distant splashing—the soft whisper of voices.
She breaks the kiss, snickering.
“Sounds like they may be getting impatient.” Ursula lets me go, retrieving the blunt from the tray and grabbing her champagne glass—raising them both to me as she prepares to step down into the pool.
“Yes, yes—better not keep them waiting.” I agree, hurrying after her—grabbing my glass of champagne—cock bobbing all the while.