10. Oran
I ’ve never hated general merriment so much as I do at this moment.
Cillian has wed our omega—an event I’ve long readied for. Yet I find myself wholly unprepared for the warring emotions this occasion has stirred in me. I’ve waited an entire year to see her again, hanging solely on the memory of the night we shared. But the ghost of Ivy pales in comparison to the vision she makes in the flesh.
And the way she smells? Fuck. Incredible, practically edible, and gods, would I love to eat her—lick every inch of her soft body and mark her up with my obsession.
Being close to her, even briefly, healed something inside my bruised, lonely heart. How could I have ever believed I’d be able to give her up? How could I have spent all this time in her absence convinced I wouldn’t do everything in my earthly power to win her? My faith in our mission was renewed the moment her scent wrapped around me and made my soul sing.
That is, until her sister accosted me like I were some wild animal daring to breathe the same air as my Ivy. Reality is a cruel mistress, and it stung to be reminded that, no matter what intense devotion I hold in my heart for her, my claim will never be accepted.
Never .
The world isn’t ready for the truth of what Cillian wants to expose. Parentage, title, inheritance: all of it more important to these noble alphas than living a long and happy life with their bonded omegas. Does he truly believe they don’t know why the nobility perish so young—why the common folk live to ripe old ages? This cruel cycle continues solely because of their pompousness.
They’ll never accept their inability to provide an omega with the care and attention required for a healthy life. Just as before, these alphas would rather their mates die than acclimate to pack living.
Even the knowledge that losing one’s bonded mate will inevitably drive them to madness doesn’t inspire action in these fools.
My mother— all of our mothers —doomed to live half lives. This court, and others across the western kingdoms, would prefer my mate face the same fate than see me at her side with Cillian. Worse still, the backlash that would come from learning we let a commoner into our ranks.
Sloan touching our new queen with his soil-stained hands? Unthinkable.
Today is a reminder of Cillian and Ivy’s inevitability. While what’s left of their lives may be joyous, she’ll grow more ill with each unsatisfied heat. If they’re lucky, they’ll produce an heir so the McKenna line can carry on once they’re gone.
The way the former king managed to survive as long as he did after the death of his queen was damn near a miracle. But given how callously he sealed her fate, it’s clear their bond meant little to him.
Cillian is ten times the alpha and leader his father ever could have hoped to be. But his good heart and determination alone won’t be enough to save Ivy. As much as I long for things to be different, I don’t belong in their lives beyond the role of dutiful advisor. This disinherited noble who has refused the conditions of his birthright, shaming the noble house of Rafferty, will never be good enough for them.
My family name will die with me, and that is something my father can’t forgive. Because I won’t marry—won’t be able to touch another woman—now that I know Ivy exists. I’ve witnessed the gift Fate has so cruelly dangled in front of me, and I would sooner die than accept another omega. No matter how many he shoves under my nose.
My queen is the beginning and the end of all my dreams. She is the love I’ve always craved, but never had the courage to believe could be mine. And though I can’t have her, I would never dare try to fill the hole in my heart with another. Not when it was carved by Fate with my Ivy in mind.