Chapter 6
Elliot
If there’s a hell for bodyguards, I think it probably looks a lot like this: forced proximity with your most annoying professional rival, the world’s most famous pop star, and a literal prince.
The latter two are also holding hands ahead of you, and a pack dynamic you’re supposed to ignore is quietly—and quickly— building.
One that can’t exist because of said prince and his royal role.
We’re two hours post-meeting with Kellen’s parents and Piper’s manager.
Paparazzi huddle outside the decorative gates of Hale Palace like wolves in a bad fairytale.
I swear I hear their lenses twitching every time Piper so much as flicks a pink strand of hair.
The gardens would be beautiful in this weather if I cared about floral arrangements, but right now all I care about is how many sight lines I have to cover and whether Nolan is adequately doing the same.
At least it’s not raining. Yet. The clouds have that “soon” look about them.
Piper and Kellen are doing their best imitation of a couple that’s been dating for more than three hours.
It’s not bad, honestly—Kellen’s a fast learner, and Piper has been performing for audiences for years.
I suppose this is no different. They don’t so much hold hands as they do interlace fingers in a way that looks accidental. Natural, even.
“Do you think they’re buying it?” I ask Nolan, who walks exactly one pace to my right and ten paces behind our charges, like the world’s most overqualified duckling.
He doesn’t turn his head. “The photographers or the public?”
“Both. The Palace PR people are betting on this becoming ‘the fairy tale of the decade.’” I draw out the last bit like I’m reading it off a cheap tabloid.
“The queen was right.” Nolan’s voice has the warmth of a freezer-burned steak. “This is standard practice among the wealthy. No one’s ever going to question a pretty couple in a garden.”
“Except you.”
He doesn’t rise to the bait. Instead he stays focused on a pair of groundskeepers at three o’clock. “I’m not paid to have opinions about optics.”
“Bullshit.”
He flicks his gaze to me. “My only concern is Piper and her well-being. You and your prince can worry about your own optics.”
So that’s the mood. I’d hoped the new set of orders for us both—protect two people not just our respective one—would mellow him out, but if anything, it’s made him grumpier.
“Suit yourself, but we’re going to have to coordinate if this is going to work.”
He grunts. “We already are.”
I glance ahead. Kellen and Piper walk along a paved path that approaches a marble fountain that’s either supposed to be an allegory for the fertility of the land or just an expensive excuse to show off the royal affinity for naked statuary.
Kellen gestures with his free hand, telling a story.
Piper’s laugh is genuine and bright as glass wind chimes.
The crowd outside the fence shifts as someone gets the shot.
“Are you always like this with your clients?” I ask. “Or is it just me?”
“I haven’t met you before today,” says Nolan, which is both technically true and a massive insult. All Ravenwood Shield Security bodyguards know of each other by reputation.
“So when did you finish the program?” I ask. “I was in the first cohort after they brought in the new curriculum.”
“Three years before you,” says Nolan.
I raise an eyebrow. “You’ve done your research.”
Nolan doesn’t even look at me. Good. His eyes should always be on Piper and Kellen. “Of course I did. You’re going to be as close to Piper as Kellen is.”
The fountain gurgles. Kellen is showing Piper something on his phone, probably a meme or maybe the fact that he’s the viral anonymous baker that millions of people watch weekly.
The prince’s profile is so perfect it could have been chiseled by the same artisan who did the marble nymphs nearby.
He smiles at Piper and, for half a second, I feel a clench in my chest that is so foreign, so not-bodyguard.
I almost miss Nolan’s next question. “Your alpha scent’s all over him. “Are you two—?”
“None of your business,” I snap, then regret it. “Sorry. Professional boundaries.”
“I ask because you’re not masking it well.”
He’s not wrong. My control is decent, but Kellen brings out the worst in me: the want to claim and protect, to lean into every instinct that Ravenwood drilled out of us in training.
But Kellen is off-limits, not just for the job, but because I’m not royal or even noble blood.
I’m not even rich. I’m just good at what I do, and what I do is keep him alive.
And now I have to do that alongside a pop star’s bodyguard who’s already clocked the feelings Kellen and I share.
“Noted,” I say. “You planning on masking yours?”
Nolan actually laughs. Not a big sound—barely a cough. “Not when she can smell it a mile away.” He nods at Piper, who is now spinning a full circle in front of the fountain, arms thrown wide. If there’s a more obvious omega in this hemisphere, I haven’t met them.
“So you did know about her designation?” I ask.
Nolan shakes his head. “Not until you two did. She’s hidden it very well for as long as I’ve known her, and I think she’d rather keep it hidden.”
“Understandable.” An omega pop star would be quite the media spectacle. Even bigger than the one we’ve already got brewing right here.
If he’s anything like me, he hasn’t stopped thinking about the gala. “All I know is, she’s unbonded and unclaimed, and while we’re all scent-matched, that doesn’t need to change. Piper will be the one to decide.”
My jaw sets tight. “Agreed. We’re not animals.”
“Didn’t say you were.”
He didn’t have to. It’s clear how seriously he takes his job as Piper’s bodyguard and, inside that, how much he cares for her. I feel the same about Kellen. We have common ground, much as Nolan might be loath to admit it.
He’s silent for a while as we follow our charges through a series of hedges that could probably conceal a small army.
My left hand hovers near my sidearm out of habit, though we should be safe on palace grounds.
Anyone looking to start trouble would have to scale a fence and hide from guards posted high on the building’s roof. But never say never I suppose.
Unfortunately, said fence has enough holes for the press to snap photos through. Which is exactly what the royal PR department wanted.
“I’ll handle Piper,” says Nolan finally. “You focus on your client.”
“I plan to.” I have no interest in playing house with a bunch of unstable emotions and shifting social dynamics, but if anyone’s going to make this disaster work, it’s the two of us.
Kellen and Piper will be the face of the operation per royal PR.
But if Nolan and I can’t keep them safe, nothing else matters.
Nolan stops walking. He squares his shoulders and looks me dead in the eye. “Don’t make it worse.”
“I’m not the problem here.”
“I know.”
Great. Glad we’ve accepted this.
The rest of the walk is conducted in silence, save for the distant hum of the press and the sound of Kellen’s laughter carrying back to us on the wind.
Occasionally, Piper glances over her shoulder, and for a moment, I catch her eye.
She doesn’t wink or wave, but her eyes linger for three heartbeats longer than necessary.
As we reach the far edge of the grounds, I realize something beautiful in a deeply inconvenient way: Kellen and Piper really do look like a couple in love, even if it’s all for show.
I don’t know. Maybe it’s the adrenaline, or maybe it’s just the fact that we’re scent-matched idiots pretending otherwise, but I feel a little bit of hope flicker in my chest.
Don’t.
I squash the feeling seconds after it arrives. There’s no room for hope of anything when this is all fake for PR.
But is it really that fake?
Nolan breathes out, long and low. “You think they’ll pull it off?”
“Probably,” I say. “They’re naturals.”
He nods. “So are we.”
For the first time all day, I feel like we might actually have a shot at keeping everyone safe. We walk on, two bodyguards doing what we do best: staying invisible, even when we want everything in the world to be otherwise.
Later, after the royal gardens have been properly fertilized with enough half-truths and candid shots to fuel the tabloids for a week, I get a text from Kellen:
Meet me in the kitchen. Bring an appetite.
I don’t have to ask which kitchen. There are two in this manor estate but only one that Kellen actually uses. I head there, grateful for the excuse to be alone with him. Piper and Nolan vanished after the walk, presumably to let the omega decompress and the alpha simmer down.
The kitchen is empty when I enter, save for the faint hum of the oven warming. Kellen crouches by a lower cabinet, rummaging for something. His back is to me and his shirt is already dusted with flour. His hair is a mess—he’s run his fingers through it a hundred times today, I’d bet.
I lean against the island. “Is this an ambush?”
He straightens and grins, holding up a fistful of brown sugar like it’s contraband. “Only if you hate chocolate chip cookies.”
Kellen turns to wipe his hands on a nearby towel, and starts assembling ingredients with that frenetic, high-wire energy he gets when something is bothering him.
I take a seat at the bar and pretend not to watch his every move.
It’s domestic and weirdly intimate, the kind of situation that would get me fired if the queen ever walked in.
“Where’s Piper?” I ask.
“With Nolan,” says Kellen. “I think she needed time to relax. Nolan looked ready to murder me every time I so much as smiled at her, so I let them be.”
“I’ll be the first murdered, I assure you,” I say dryly.
Kellen gives me a warm smile. “He’s not that bad.” Then he moves to crack two eggs in rapid succession. “So what’s the diagnosis, Dr. Blaine? Are we doing a good job?”
I can’t help but chuckle. “Jury’s out.” I watch the way he stirs the sugar and butter together, quick and neat. “You actually like her, don’t you?”
He glances up, blue eyes bright. “Should I not?”
“Just surprised,” I say. “She’s not what I expected. And I never expected you to change your mind regarding pack life.”
“I know, neither did I.” Kellen looks up at me. “But you have to admit this is all unprecedented.”
“That’s one way to put it.” Except I’m not sure Kellen’s right. Alphas and omegas bond all the time. If they’re lucky, they’re even scent matches.
This is, unfortunately, the most natural thing in the world. It’s just happening to strangers and people who can’t be together.
I don’t know what else to say about this, so I deflect. “Are you ever going to tell the queen about the baking videos? Baking is a great hobby.”
He snorts. “Not if I can help it. I like having secrets.” He shoves the mixing bowl at me. “Your turn while I work on the rest.”
I take it, and the spoon, and beat the batter while he lines a tray with parchment. The silence is companionable, filled only by the scrape of metal on ceramic and the soft thump of Kellen’s hip against the counter.
He’s not looking at me when he says, “I’ve been thinking about the pack thing.”
That dangerous word again. “Yeah?”
“I don’t think it has to be complicated if we don’t want it to be.”
I arch an eyebrow. “We’re a prince, a security guard, a pop star, and a walking slab of redwood. Nothing is ever simple.”
Kellen shrugs. “Maybe we could make it simple.”
There’s a world in that maybe. I feel it settle in the air between us, sticky and warm as brown sugar.
I still the spoon in the bowl. “Do you want to?”
Kellen looks at me straight on. “We only just met them, Elliot. And while I love the idea of scent matches feeling like fated mates, the only parts of fairytales that are real here is that I am a prince.” He sighs.
“Which is to say, I was opposed to strict pack life until the very moment Piper’s suppressants failed and she and Nolan walked into our life. ”
Our life.
My throat goes tight. I’m not built for these conversations; I’m built for choking out attackers and silently enduring the fallout of my own bad decisions. But I make myself say something because it’s clear Kellen’s waiting for it.
“I don’t know if I can be in a pack.”
It’s more than the idea of sharing Kellen with veritable strangers. It’s more than the pressures of Kellen’s royal duties and the weight of Piper’s career.
It’s all of it.
I haven’t had time to consider what a pack might even be like because I spent my entire childhood hanging out with Kellen and then, when we were of age, getting certified to become his bodyguard.
Now there’s all of this.
But none of these thoughts make it to words out of my mouth.
Kellen seems to understand. He takes the bowl from my hands. His fingers brush mine. The contact is electric, even after all this time.
The corner of my mouth twitches upward, and I feel the skin around my eyes crinkling despite my best efforts to maintain composure. “That’s cheating.”
He grins, smug. “You love it.”
I love you.
Kellen spoons out cookies onto the tray, then glances at me sidelong. “Are you going to help or just stare?”
I could watch you all day long.
I roll my eyes and start flattening dough balls. When he puts the tray in the oven, I close my eyes and inhale. Melting chocolate and butter wrap around me like a childhood memory. My shoulders drop an inch. My fists unclench.
Peace.
When the cookies are done, we stand side by side at the counter and eat them hot, not caring that we’ll burn our tongues. Kellen rests his head on my shoulder for a minute, and I don’t move away.
“I meant what I said,” he murmurs. “I want this. All of it.”
I wrap an arm around his waist and pull him close. “I know.”
We stand there until the sun slips down over the palace roofs and the kitchen is nothing but warm light and crumbs.