8. Cillian
P anic, ice cold and biting, courses through my veins as my mate faints in my arms. While her soft, luscious body pressed against me is the sweetest joy I’ve ever known, it wasn’t meant to happen like this. I overwhelmed the princess by acting like a beast prepared to mount her in front of an audience.
But her scent, gods, her scent . I was fully unprepared for the way it bloomed in our year apart. She was intoxicating before, but she’s now downright irresistible. The second the wave of her apple-cinnamon scent hit me, I was overcome by an animalistic imperative to take Ivy into my arms and mark her for all to see.
She is mine .
Anyone who dares to look upon her should remember that well.
“Ivy!” I shake her with equal parts urgency and cautiousness. She doesn’t stir or grace me with her endless ocean eyes. I’m confident I’ll burn this world to ash if she doesn’t wake by the time I take my next breath.
It’s as though someone has driven a sword clean through the center of me. What else could cause pain so visceral as this? Agony is all I know—agony and the decadent scent of honey-soaked apple cake that serves only to torment me. I won’t let her go.
Not like this.
Not ever.
“Darling,” I beg, my voice hoarse with my sorrow. “I’m so sorry. Please open your eyes.”
Oran drops to his knees beside me. I want to be angry at him for rushing toward our omega the moment she came into view, but how can I fault him when I’m no better? He’s just as affected by her presence as I am, his scent swelling like a freshly fed fire in her proximity. When I dare to look away from our mate, his pupils practically swallow the emerald of his irises.
He leans closer to her, smoothing away strands of her hair and pressing the back of his palm to her cheek. While he gazes at her with open longing, the stirrings of aggression spark to life inside my chest, inciting me to wrap my hands around my packmate’s throat for even daring to be so close to her.
It doesn’t matter if it’s Oran. This part of my nature can’t stand to see another alpha lay his hands upon my mate. It breeds a selfish, impish desire to hoard my woman— my fate —to myself.
But another, louder voice inside my heart is ready to remind me—this is Oran . He’s no threat, but my brother in every sense but blood. He’s the one who will help me keep her safe and fulfilled.
Unconcerned by the company and chaos surrounding us, he leans forward, resting his cheek upon her brow. It’s a dangerous move. Were it any other circumstance, I would have chastised him for putting our precarious situation on display.
“All is well, brother. Our princess must have worked herself into a frenzy when she scented you,” he says quietly, so only I can hear. “Purr for her. Bring her back to us.”
Oran speaks with such surety and calmness that it eases the feral rage burning in my heart. With clearer eyes, I see how her chest rises and falls with her breathing, confirming what he has said.
This small relief allows room for smugness to carve room alongside my dwindling concern. To know my alpha signature affected her so remarkably—had her perfuming so sweetly—is a rush like none I’ve ever known.
Ivy must have realized what we are to each other. Each of her sweet little whimpers and how she openly bloomed under my touch confirms this perfect creature in my arms knows I belong to her. I would move mountains, sink the moon into the sea, cross worlds and time itself if it would please my darling mate.
“What in the hell do you two think you’re doing?” Princess Rose screeches, coming into view.
If she wasn’t my mate’s sister, I would demand she back away from us at once. The wildness beneath my skin still surges with the need to protect my omega, and anyone who’s not a member of my pack threatens our connection. But, I don’t wish to upset Ivy by waging war with Rose.
“Let my sister breathe, you overbearing beast!” she yells again. I fight the urge to curl my lip and snarl as the fiery princess assesses Oran with horror in her eyes. He pulls back from our mate as if burned. We knew it must be this way, but I don’t like how he has to hide his affection from the world.
Ivy deserves all of our doting at any given moment.
“Apologies, Your Highness,” he mumbles, getting to his feet. “I was merely checking your sister for a fever. She seems to be all right.”
“All right? She’s unconscious!”
Her tone holds an accusation, and I don’t like the implication. I would never knowingly cause my omega distress. But Rose isn’t aware of what transpired between Ivy and me just now. She couldn’t feel the raw magic tethering her sister’s soul to mine the moment our eyes met. She doesn’t know of this hole in my heart. It will remain unfilled until my mark is on my mate’s throat and we are bound for life.
Oran stands and retreats further into the throng of the frenzied court, leaving me to explain what transpired without his assistance. I understand why—Ivy can’t find out about him this way. Not when her reaction will be scrutinized by an audience who wouldn’t understand. He throws me a sharp look before disappearing from view, urging me to do something , and his prior words settle into the forefront of my mind.
“Purr for her. Bring her back to us.”
I cradle Ivy closer to me, tuning out the mayhem surrounding us. At this moment, only her and our budding bond matter. From deep within me, I muster every ounce of devotion, every desire I have to comfort and care for her, and let it reverberate from my chest.
“Come back now, darling,” I plead. “I need you.”