Knot My Fairytale Ending, Part 2 (FatedVerse #7)

Episode 1 Turning Into a Pumpkin

Florence

“It’s all my fault,” Haven says, from where she’s wedged between me and the rail of the hospital bed. It's a tight fit, shoving me as far over as I can go to make room for her and her giant belly.

“How do you figure?”

“I never should have made you go on that fucking show.”

There's a brief swell of bitterness behind my ribs--one that tells me some small portion of me agrees with her--but it’s quickly smothered by guilt for feeling that way. “You didn’t make me do anything. I chose to go. I could have said no.”

She shifts and nestles further into my side, being careful to not jostle the needle and tubing coming out of my other arm.

“But I’m the one who applied for you. I’m the one who talked you into going.

I’m the one who had Jude write your name on the completed list of contestants.

” She freezes like she hadn’t meant to say that last one. “Damn baby brain.”

I smooth a hand up and down her arm. “It's okay. I figured you’d done something like that from the beginning.”

Haven’s head shoots up. “What?”

I arch a brow and smooth her dark messy hair.

She’s barely left my side since I fainted in the airport.

Since I had my heart stomped on for the entertainment of the masses.

“It was pretty obvious, Haves. There’s no way I would have been picked for Alpha Love Getaway, let alone a special season with the Royal Ashbourne Pack. Of course I knew.”

“Actually,” a voice says from the doorway of my hospital room, drawing our gazes to where Jude is lingering. “You were on the short list, Ren. I only had to ensure you stayed on the list.”

My heart lurches. Of course.

There wasn’t any other way for me to meet them. I likely would have never gone to Bravonne, not once my knee shattered. I never told Haven, but before everything happened with her father, I’d been invited to the Bravonne Royal Ballet in Durvain for a season.

If everything hadn’t happened with Frederick Bell, and I’d gone, I might have met them then. The ballet is often attended by the royal pack. It’s likely we would have met and scented each other.

Would they be more or less likely to pick a dancing omega as the royal mate? If they did, would the queen have as big of a problem with her, if it was a true match? If we met in the real world and not in the vacuum of a television show?

You already know the answer to that, Florence.

I do. I doubt even if they knew I was their scent match that they would have been free to choose me.

Because that is apparently what I am.

The Ashbourne Pack’s scent match.

Their fated mate.

I must be. It's the only way what the doctor told me moments ago makes any sense.

“They were going to take you no matter what,” Jude adds, shifting just a little closer with a sheepish shrug.

Haven cuddles closer to me, wrapping an arm tight around my middle, her pineapple and chili scent a bit sweeter than normal thanks to her pregnancy hormones “We never should have interfered in the first place.”

I shake my head. “You couldn’t have known, Haves. None of this is your fault… None of this happened because of you. What are the chances that I’d be… That fate would…” God. I can’t even bring myself to say it. “I mean with the Royal Pack of Bravonne.”

It's almost like fate didn’t want me to find them, putting us a half a world away from each other. But then she seems to be a vicious little thing, doesn’t she? Making Haven the fated mate of a pack of alphas who hated her father for what he did to their first omega.

Now this.

My fated pack is royalty of a country I don’t even live in.

I was set up to fail from the beginning. They were never going to choose me and now I’m going to have to live with the consequences for the rest of my life.

The door to my premium private hospital room opens and the rest of Haven’s pack comes in looking grim. I huff softly at their dire expressions.

“It’s not as bad as all that,” I tell them, even though it really is.

“Rejected Mate Disorder is a big deal, Ren,” Atticus says, folding his arms over his chest to glare down at me. He’s not upset with me. I know this. There isn’t a reason for him to be. No. He’s angry at the situation I’ve found myself with.

I flinch at his blunt tone, at how he’s just said it as a matter of fact. Rejected Mate Disorder.

“I know,” I tell him. “Believe me I know. I’m the one who's going to have to live with it for the rest of my life.”

“We could-”

“No,” I cut off my friend before she can finish the thought. I already know what she’s going to say.

“Ren.”

“No, Haven. We aren’t telling them. They made their choice on national fucking television. I’m not going to beg them to change their minds.”

“But you’ll be in pain, Ren,” Hale says like I don’t already know, like I’m not already feeling it. “Every day for the rest of your life. You’ll be in pain.”

And alone, but he doesn’t say that.

It's a well-known fact that anyone who has RMD can’t bear to be touched by anyone else but their pack--their mates. Even platonic touches can be challenging if they aren’t given by family members.

At the moment, I can barely tolerate being in the same room as Haven’s bonded alphas, their scents, which had once smelled like home to me--my pack of big brothers--now makes me need to breathe through my mouth to avoid scenting them too much.

I’m going to have to get over it. I’m not spending the next fifty odd years of my life shut away from everyone. That’s no life at all.

And I refuse to let a few weeks with a pack who didn’t want me ruin years of my life.

I’m stronger than that.

“I know,” I tell them. “I know what is going to happen to me. We had a whole unit on RMD at the omega academy.”

“Then you also know that they are your only cure,” Atticus growls at me. “You need to tell them.”

Warmth blooms in my chest right alongside frustration. I know they only want what’s best for me, because they care about me, but I’m drowning in their alphaness. Their need to take care of the omegas in their family.

I love them, but I don’t want or need this.

“I’ve made my decision,” I tell them, straightening my shoulders as best as I can from a hospital bed. “They don’t need to know. It wouldn’t change anything. Over and over and over again they told me they would always pick duty over love. Always.”

“But they won’t pick duty over their mate, Ren,” Creed growls.

“They will.” When they all just stare at me, like if they do it long enough I’ll change my mind, I sigh.

“RMD exists for a reason. People reject their fated mates. Maybe not every day, but often enough that it’s a well-known illness, that we’re taught about it at school and that they have treatment plans at the ready.

It happens. And if any pack is going to be the one to continue to reject their fated mate, it’s the Royal Ashbourne pack. ”

“You can’t be certain-”

“I can be. And even if I’m not… I don’t want them to be with me just because I’m sick.

They had their chance to choose me and they didn’t take it.

They sent me home instead and made sure the entire world would see them do it.

They can’t go back on that. It’ll make them look weak, or wishy-washy or any number of things that the royal pack shouldn’t be.

” I shake my head. “No, the only thing telling them will accomplish is them rejecting me again, and then feeling guilty when they bond Isadora.”

“They deserve to feel guilty!” Haven snarls. “They deserve to feel the pain you're feeling, Ren. They deserve to know just how deeply they hurt you. I want them to suffer. So fucking bad.”

She’s so fierce and so sweet, it’s adorable. A small smile curls my lips. “I know, Haves. I know. And I love you for it. But please, just do this for me. They don’t need to know.”

Even now as heartbroken as I am, I don’t want to hurt them. Not really. I’m hurting enough for all of us.

The door to my suite opens and my little sister pokes her head in. Or not so little anymore, I suppose. Nearing fifteen and gorgeous as all get out. In the next year or so her designation should come in, though we’re all fairly sure she’s going to be a beta.

She pauses just on the other side of the door, taking in the four hulking alphas and Haven squeezed into the bed with me. “Sorry, am I interrupting something?”

I shake my head and hold out my hand to her. “No, nothing. Come here, Gin.”

She doesn’t waste time, weaving through the Calloway pack and slipping into the miniscule space left on my bed.

Which is really nothing. She’s basically laying on top of me, but when her familiar lavender scent reaches my nose, I just want to pull her closer.

Between her and Haven, I feel almost normal.

Almost.

“How are you feeling?” Ginny mumbles, as Haven strokes slim fingers through her honey blonde hair.

“Better,” I tell her. “A lot better. The docs have me on all the right medication and I’ll be one hundred percent in no time.”

None of the other people in the room contradict me, even though we all know it’s a lie. I’m never going to be one hundred percent again. Just like I was never going to be one hundred percent after my knee was shattered.

“God,” my sister says, tipping her chin back to give me a smile. “I really fucking hate hospitals.”

I should chide her for her language. If my mother was here, she would. But Ginny’s fifteen and I know I was swearing up a storm when I was her age. So I just smooth her hair back from her face and give her a sympathetic smile. “I really fucking hate them too.”