Episode 24 Love, Factually
Florence
“Can I help?” I ask Piers, who’s buzzing around the small kitchen, humming under his breath as he works on putting together lunch for us.
He pauses in cutting a head of lettuce and smiles at me. “No, little bird. I’m good. You should just relax.” When he sees the look on my face, he chuckles. “Or go sketch one of those gorgeous designs of yours.”
I could do that. But it feels like that’s all I’ve been doing lately.
Sketching, choosing colors and fabrics. Jude shipped a crap ton of swatches to me so I can choose what direction I want to go and get the manufacturing company started on the prototypes, but I’m just… feeling a little stir crazy I think.
“After lunch can we go out?” I ask, already knowing what the answer will be.
In the week that I’ve been here, I’ve left the flat exactly once. To slip into the palace in the early morning with Court and see his exquisite paintings.
I haven’t done any sightseeing, haven’t even gone to a coffee shop or a grocery store.
Everything is provided for me, either by the pack or their staff, and it’s starting to feel a little suffocating.
I can tell what Piers’ answer is going to be by the sad little smile he gives me. “Maybe just to the park?” I try to stall the inevitable denial. “We don’t have to do anything. Just walk around.”
“You know we can’t just ‘walk around,’ Ren.
That’s not who our pack is.” Not my pack, I almost say.
But I can recognize it for the lie it is.
“It’s a security issue. We’d need to have guards with us.
Grieves would need to vet wherever we go before we go there.
Make sure it’s safe for us. And Forsythe… ”
“Forsythe would need to approve all of that.” And he won’t.
I’m tucked away safe and sound and hidden, and he wants to keep it that way.
“All of you can come and go as you please, why do I need to stay here? Is it really for my safety? Or is it something else?”
Piers’ hazel eyes sharpen on me and he carefully sets the knife next to the cutting board before rounding the island. “What else would it be, sunshine?”
I shrug, not meeting his gaze as he stops in front of me, crowding into my space the lightest bit. “I don’t know. You tell me, dimples.”
His knuckle taps under my chin, lifting it until I’m looking at him. “You’re asking if we’re hiding you.”
“Yes.”
His thumb strokes along my bottom lip. “I wish I could tell you that’s not what’s happening here, Ren, but I don’t want to lie to you.
And the truth is I don’t know. I don’t know what the plan is for the long term.
But I do know that what we’ve been doing this week isn’t tenable. I know you need more than this.”
I swallow around the tightness in my throat. “Do you think this is what it would be like if I stayed?”
“If we stayed, you mean?” He smiles softly at the wide-eyed look I give him.
“I meant it when I said I’m choosing you, Florence.
I’m so grateful for the time you’ve given me with them, given them to get their heads out of their arses, but if that doesn’t happen…
Whatever you decide, wherever you go, I’m with you. ”
He kisses my slack mouth softly, lingering long enough for me to kiss him back.
He sighs and tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear.
“I don’t know if this is what it would be like.
We’ve never had a normal relationship. We spent so much time hiding what we were to each other, that it just became habit.
And I don’t want that anymore. Not for me, and certainly not for you.
So if it looks like this,” he motions around the apartment with one hand, “is the way it’s going to stay? We’ll leave.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.” He kisses me again, a sweet lingering thing that has my toes curling and my scent rising. “Now,” he says, turning me gently by my shoulders. “Go bother someone else so I can finish making you lunch.” He smacks my ass, making me yelp and glare at him as I rub the spot.
The grin he gives me is unrepentant and reminiscent of Courtland.
“Fine,” I grumble. “But you have to let me help at some point.”
“Says you,” he calls back as I move through the apartment.
I poke my head into what has become my work room, taking in the stacks of fabric, the partially draped dress form.
Really the fact that all of this has made it into this room in a week is impressive, and I know a lot of it is because of the Ashbourne pack. Most of it, actually.
They’re trying to make this someplace I can stay, can live. But no matter how many sketch books or dress forms or boxes of fabric they bring me, no matter how many plush pillows and soft blankets wind up in my bedroom, it just doesn’t feel right.
With a sigh I abandon my workspace and continue down the hall, toward the only other pack member currently in the apartment.
Thayer looks up when I enter his makeshift study, a smile already on his face that lets me know he scented me before he saw me. That seems to happen a lot recently. I can’t seem to help it these days.
Being around my pack makes my omega incredibly happy… and incredibly horny. It's becoming a real problem.
“Killer.”
“Professor.” He leans back in his chair as I get closer to him, cock half hard and pressing against his zipper, thighs spread in invitation. It's one I take, perching myself sideways on his lap in a move that I wouldn’t have dared to do before we came here.
He lets out a slow breath as I settle, tension leaking out of his muscles, even as he pulls me closer, head dipping to take an inhale of my scent. “How are you feeling today?” he asks against my temple.
My fingers fidget with the buttons on his shirt, as I shrug. “Fine. Good. Just like I have been since you all came to get me.”
He hums like he’s not convinced. “You seem a little off today, though, love.” His tone is knowing. “You sure there isn’t something I can help you with? Any aches you need me to ease?”
Asshole knows exactly what's wrong with me.
It's not as though I can hide it. Well, I could I suppose if I wanted to start taking my suppressants again, but my doctor warned about the risks of prolonged medicating, especially since I spent so much of my early years as an omega taking them to schedule my heats around ballet seasons.
She strongly recommended that if I was able to spend time with my fated mates, that I shouldn’t medicate myself.
So this is the result, the more comfortable I am with them, the more my body and scent signal it. I just wish Thayer wasn’t being such an ass about it. A gentleman would ignore my near-constant horny state.
“Nope,” I say, popping the p. “I’m fine. What are you working on?”
His hum tells me he knows I’m lying, but he’s not going to call me on it. “Nothing much, just getting my notes together for my lectures for when classes start up again in the fall.”
At the mention of it, of his future plans to still be here in a couple months’ time, intending to carry on with his life, makes any lust I’d been feeling dry up. I know my scent turns a little sour, tinged with my own bitter emotions.
“What just happened there, omega?” He asks, voice a low rasp. “What upset you?”
“It’s nothing. I’ll let you get back to it,” I tell him, pushing my feet. He doesn’t let me go though, arms clamping down on me to keep me where I am perched on his thick thigh.
“Florence, you really need to stop doing this,” he growls, pinching my chin to turn my face toward him. “I’ve said something to upset you, I need to know what it is, so I can fix it.”
My hand curls around his wrist, intending to brush him off. But instead I just stay there, looking into those blue, blue eyes of his. “I’m not sure you can fix this, professor. It's just… the realization that even if this does work out, if you pick me-”
“I do pick you. Always.”
My lips curve into a small smile at the immediate declaration, but I make myself finish the thought. He’d asked me to after all.
“If you pick me, and we bond… I won’t be going home.
Not really. I’ll visit of course. Go on vacations to see my family, but I’ll have to move here.
” He glances around the office like that will provide him some clarification as to what the problem is.
“To Bravonne, a country that currently devalues its omega citizens, where I’ve been painted as a villain, to a palace ruled over by a woman who despises me on principle and nothing else. ”
“That’s not necessarily true.”
“No? You’re currently doing lesson planning for your job. Here. In Bravonne.” I meet his worried gaze head on. “I know we haven’t talked about it since things are still up in the air, but I suspect it’s assumed I’ll give up everything I know and trust and love, to move here and be with you.”
It certainly wouldn’t be the other way around. Forsythe is a prince. He does have a duty to his country as much as I hate to admit it. He needs to be close to the throne, to the crown.
And I can’t fault Thayer for wanting to continue to teach.
I understand that until recently, I didn’t have a career. Working as a bank teller and a yoga instructor is certainly not on par with being royalty. It's easier for me to dig up my roots and move than it is for them.
Doesn’t mean I think it’s fair, though.
Especially if they can’t give me everything I need.
They’re trying—well, some of them are trying—but we aren’t there.
I’m not sure we ever will be.
Maybe with the rest of the pack, but certainly not with Forsythe, not with how he’s been absent, all day every day.
Thayer studies me for a long moment, his thumb brushing absently along my jaw, like he’s mapping out the problem.
“Alright,” he says finally, tone shifting to something more deliberate, sharper. The professor in full effect. “Let’s examine that.”
I huff a quiet laugh. “Of course you would say that.”
“Indulge me.” His brow lifts as he gives me a little shake. “You’re assuming a series of outcomes and treating them as inevitabilities. That you’ll have to stay here. That nothing about Bravonne will change. That you’ll be isolated. Hidden. Unhappy.”
“That’s not an assumption,” I argue, my fingers tightening slightly on his wrist. “That’s my current reality.”
“Current,” he repeats, pointedly. “Not fixed.”
I frown at him, not fully understanding.
He leans in slightly, his voice dropping, blue eyes more intent now. “Let me ask you this, killer. If the variables change—if the laws change, if the crown changes, if our duty changes, if we claim you publicly—does your conclusion remain the same?”
I open my mouth, then close it again.
Because… no, it doesn’t.
Not entirely.
“That’s a lot of ifs,” I say instead, dropping my hand from him, and shaking my head. “A lot of uncertainty.”
“It is,” he agrees easily, sliding his hand until he’s collaring my throat.
“But you’re already living in a world where impossibilities seem to happen with alarming regularity.
” When I only stare at him, his lips quirk.
“You found your scent matched mates on a reality dating show, and suddenly you’re resistant to entertaining hypotheticals? ”
I narrow my eyes at him. “You’re so damn annoying.”
“Accurate,” he says without missing a beat.
Despite myself, my lips twitch. He grins back, all charm.
“But you’re doing the same thing,” I shoot back. “You’re assuming that everything will work out. That you’ll find a way. That the crown will bend or break or magically stop being… what it is. That your duty will change.”
“I’m not assuming,” he corrects quietly. “I’m committing. We’re all committing, killer.”
That wipes the smile from my face.
His hand slides to the back of my neck, holding me there. Grounding me in the way my omega craves.
“I don’t know what it’s going to look like,” he admits.
“I don’t know where we’ll end up living, or what compromises will need to be made, or what the political landscape will look like in a month, let alone a year.
But I do know this,” his thumb presses lightly into my pulse under my ear.
“I’m not building a future that doesn’t include you. ”
My breath catches and my eyes and nose sting at the certainty in his tone.
“Whatever that means,” he continues, softer now. “Wherever that takes us. I will figure it out. We will figure it out.”
Something in my chest loosens, even as the fear still lingers, stubborn and sharp ready to cut.
“And what if Forsythe doesn’t change his mind?” I ask quietly. “What if he chooses duty over me?”
Thayer’s expression doesn’t flicker, remaining steadfast and determined. “Then we adjust the equation.”
That startles a soft laugh out of me. “God, you really are a professor.”
“And you, killer,” he says, blue eyes warm, “are catastrophizing.”
“I am not-”
“You are,” he cuts in, gently. “You’re taking the worst possible outcome and treating it as the most likely one.”
I hesitate. He’s got a point.
“Maybe I am,” I sigh in defeat. “But given my life experiences so far can you really blame me? I just don’t want to build a life on something that might disappear and hurt me irrevocably when it does. I’ve done that before, Thay.”
His expression softens fully at that.
“Then don’t,” he says simply.
I blink at him.
“Build it on what’s real,” he continues.
“What’s here. What’s happening now. What we’re doing, day by day.
” His fingers trace lightly along my spine.
“I know it’s not exactly as you’d prefer it, Ren.
And I know what we’re doing right now isn’t enough.
But it is something, isn’t it? Something worth building on, worth shaping. ”
I study him, searching for doubt.
I don’t find any.
Only certainty. So much of it, in fact, that I find myself borrowing a bit from him, tucking it into my chest right along with my hope that this will all work out.
“Okay,” I say finally, the word quiet but firm.
His lips curve slightly, like he knew I’d get there. “Good.”
I roll my eyes a little, but I don’t move off his lap, settling more solidly against him, letting him hold me the way he’s holding my fears.
“Still annoying as hell,” I mutter, tipping my chin to brush a kiss to the underside of his jaw, inhaling his coffee and parchment scent as I do.
“Still yours,” he murmurs back, dipping his head to brush his mouth against my temple.
And for the first time since we arrived in Bravonne, the future doesn’t feel quite so uncertain.