9. Ivy
B liss is the scent of the sea on the wind, the weight of a warm embrace, and the pleasant rumble of distant thunder. Where wildness once ran rampant in my blood, overwhelming each of my senses to the point of delirium, now rests a calm like I have never known.
Something caresses my cheek, practically petting me while the sea swells around me. Thunder roars on, pulsating through my limbs until I’m all but adrift in this state of serenity.
“Wake up, little omega.”
A familiar voice calls out to me like a beacon in a storm, but he’s too far for me to reach. My inner omega demands I find the alpha who smells and sounds like home. She knows, as I do, we’ll find safety in his arms.
Consciousness creeps in—slow but sure—coloring the corners of my vision with the swaths of emerald draped around the great hall. Blinking past the burning light of day, I become aware of my body—how I’m sprawled across a rather large lap and cradled by arms I’ve often dreamt of. As the last of the haze clears, my eyes meet an icy blue gaze full of concern.
“Little terror, you gave me quite the fright,” Cillian says, using the pad of his thumb to stroke along the contours of my face.
His touch is featherlight—his words, whisper-soft, hardly audible above the loud rumble of his steady purring. I’m mesmerized that he would choose to soothe me in such a profoundly intimate way. My intended cradles me tightly against his impressive chest, and I’m happy to burrow into the scent that’s tilted my world on its axis.
He smells of freedom—of wishes carried on the wind and possibilities as endless as the sea.
Cillian is my scent-matched mate; there is no doubt in my heart. The desperate way he clings to me, as if I’m his salvation, is the surest sign. On instinct, my arms loop around his neck so I can further meld into the warmth of his embrace.
Nothing in the world could take me from him at this moment. Nothing, that is, except my overbearing brothers and sisters rushing toward us, barking questions and accusations all at once.
“Are you all right?” Sage shouts, bending to meet me at eye level. My normally stoic brother is damn near hyperventilating, his face a shade of scarlet I’ve yet to witness before. “We will leave right away, Ivy. Say the word.”
“No!” I protest as Cillian does.
Our shared sentiment rings loudly, leaving no room to question our connection. He tightens his arms around me, likely feeling a similar panic at the very threat of being separated. Fate has brought us together in this strange and beautiful way, and I won’t leave him for anything.
“What happened?” Hawthorn barks, clearly unsettled by the turn of events. Outside the safety of his court, no less. One moment he was ushering me toward my intended, and the next, I was being ripped from his side by a frenzied alpha.
“Ivy is…she and I…we…” Cillian rasps, cradling the back of my head and stealing sips of my scent. The act of verbalizing what we both know to be true is a feat for the prince. It seems he, like me, is a bit out of sorts.
“Scent matches,” I manage to finish the thought for him—equally ineloquent. It matters not, for the words spark a giddiness inside my heart that can’t be ignored.
Their rightness resonates deep within my soul.
Gasps and chatter echo excitedly throughout the hall at the news of our good fortune. This is likely the first time a royal wedding has ever been such a spectacle of carnality and precious revelations. I’m certain news of today’s events will swiftly; unsurprising, since courtiers across the kingdoms are known to trade gossip like currency.
“A scent match?” Aspen asks with cautious glee in his voice. “Are you certain?”
“Yes,” Cillian utters before burying his nose in my hair again. He breathes in the scent created to affect him like no other in existence. “I am Ivy’s. Her alpha.”
When the king declares my ownership of him, possessive satisfaction licks at my spine, curling around each of my limbs and stroking a sensual place inside me. It’s so unlike an alpha to defer to an omega, yet he does so without hesitation.
“This is truly a gift! A mandate from Fate herself that our two kingdoms were meant to be united,” Prince Ciaran calls to the crowd.
He emerges from the commotion with Prince Callan at his side, grins wide on their too-familiar faces. Their apparent delight is a welcome relief from the skeptical panic of my own siblings.
The surrounding court continues with their babbling—excitement swelling because Fate and her fairies deigned to bless our kingdoms so wonderfully. Surely this must be a good omen for the prosperity our mating will bring to us all.
Smiles stretch across the faces of every person I’m able to perceive. All but my sister, Rose, who eyes my king and me with obvious cynicism. Knowing her, she’s keen to spout off something that would ruin the moment. Luckily, she chooses to hold her tongue. A rarity, but I’m glad for it.
“Darling,” Cillian says softly, pulling my focus back to his profoundly handsome face. Such joy, such wonder, is painted on his flawless features. “I’d very much like to make you my wife. Are you feeling well enough to continue?”
Unable to stop my eager hands, I trace the shape of his lips with my thumb. Now more than ever, I long to feel his mouth on mine, just as his letters promised. Instead he kisses the pad of my thumb so reverently the breath is nearly stolen from my lungs. “I would like nothing more.”
Cillian raises a brow, a secret smirk upon his lips as this unspoken thing passes between us. If our lust-addled scents are any indicator, we have similar thoughts on the one thing we would both enjoy more. Something which requires no audience—and no clothing for that matter.
Though omegas are not known for their patience or delaying gratification in any regard, I’m quite sure this wait will be well worth it.
* * *
My palm looks so delicate encompassed in Cillian’s massive hand. The warmth of his grip and the sureness with which he stares at me is as dizzying as it is consuming.
It is one thing to marry an alpha who looks as though the gods took extra care in his creation. It’s quite another to have him regard me as though I were something sacred and fleeting—like I would disappear if he let his eyes stray for even a moment.
I thought he would at least break his gaze when the Namarian handfasting ritual began. Each of our respective siblings came up one-by-one and bound our joined hands with silk ribbons. I thanked each of them, making sure to meet their eyes as they bestowed their blessings on our union.
I assumed my intended would have done the same.
But I was misguided in thinking my alpha’s devotion would be so easily shaken. If anything, the king became more firm in his resolve to catalog each and every detail of my face as we entered into our marriage.
Now, as Prince Ciaran finishes tying the final knot, Cillian finally breaks his focus from my face to see the work our families have done. Thread by thread, they have sealed what was already written in the stars: Cillian and I joined, at long last.
The king’s smile is near blinding—bright as the sun and equally warm. I’m the lucky omega who’s destined to bask in it.
“I’m yours, Ivy. Until I’m ash upon the wind—longer even,” he vows. A final promise to make us truly one.
“As I am yours. Now and forever,” I return with a shaky exhalation. Though it isn’t doubt that makes the words hard to speak, but rather wonder.
“I think it’s time I kiss you, wife.”
The deep timbre of Cillian’s voice drips with eagerness to deepen our physical connection, and I’m inclined to give myself over to similar urges. Not to indulge with such an exceptional alpha specimen would be a crime against nature.
“Kiss me then, husband.”
Something animalistic tears from the king’s throat as he bands his free arm around my waist. The spark of wildness in his eyes is a sure sign he would have no qualms about handling me rather indecently were our hands not bound.
My perfume blooms, eyes fluttering shut, as my mate bends to take my mouth against his in a kiss that is both tender and possessive. The firm press of his lips, the heat building between us, the scent of the sea permeating every ounce of my being—nothing has ever felt so right as this.
Around us, cheers ring out in celebration of Namara’s king and queen. And while this may very well be the happiest moment of my life, something unsettling lingers in the back of my mind. Be it a figment of my earlier delirium, or a truth I’m not sure how to process, Cillian is not the only one to whom my soul calls.
Blazing fire, all-consuming in its potent beauty, and emerald eyes that burn just as hot. I swear I scented him—saw him there beside my mate before the heady wave of heat knocked me down. My heart races and my scent swells at the very idea he could be mine.
But is this a delusion driven by my selfish desires?
When Cillian breaks our kiss to present me to his court, familiar green eyes are the first thing I see. Lord Oran Rafferty watches me, devouring me. His stare is like a brand, searing my skin with his possessive claim. I’m little else but a captive to the knowing smirk pulling at the corner of his plush mouth.
“Now, we feast!” Cillian calls to the crowd.
Before I can find my bearings, my new husband leads me off the dais and away from the mysterious tug I feel toward his best friend. I have many questions about this new life of mine—but they will have to wait for another day. For now, I vow to give my husband the attention he deserves on this most special day.