20. Oran
H ardly an hour ago, Cillian came crashing into my quarters with urgent information and a new plan to win our omega’s love. Right away, I could sense a change in him had occurred. He’s spent years carrying the burden of guilt over the injustices that befell his mother. But one night with Ivy, and the weight of the world did not seem so heavy upon his shoulders.
Not for the first time, I envied my king’s access to our mate. That he can shower her with affection so openly, that she has so clearly accepted him as her alpha; the list is as numerous as it is defeating.
Regardless of my petty discontent, I truly believe no one deserves Fate’s gift as much as Cillian. His pure heart and dedication to the service to others make him the perfect mate for Ivy. He can give her things I could never dream of—most important being an open heart not jaded by the cruelty of the world.
Still, the hope to which I foolishly clung swelled when he spoke of her family leaving. I allowed excitement to take root, thinking I too might experience some of the healing magic that comes from being in Ivy’s presence. And much sooner than we intended.
I held on to that small joy, silently, as he and I gathered Sloan and our closest comrades to strategize our next moves.
But the closer we venture toward Cillian’s study, the more I can’t shake the feeling something is amiss. Urgency presses against a primitive part inside me, propelling me down the hall with determined steps. Not even Cillian rambling on to Tiernan and Fiona could cut through the single-minded focus I have to seek out this wrong and right it at once.
Sloan trails behind us, speaking in hushed tones with Sir Liam, Cillian’s captain of the guard. Where Lord and Lady Dempsey go, the captain is never far away. Like Sloan, he is common-born and blessed by Fate with an omega of his own.
It’s been just over a year now since he secretly bonded with Fiona. An entire year of watching as Tiernan gets to love her in the open while he remains in the shadows. I don’t understand how he can manage being kept a secret. But watching the way he and Tiernan have come together to serve their omega is awe-inspiring to say the least.
I’m pleased the king has brought our dear friends in on his mission to change the world; truly I am. But at this moment, their easy conversations grate on my nerves.
Something is wrong. How can they not sense this?
Acrid, burnt sugar lingers in the air. It reeks of desperation and turmoil, and my heart pounds with feral rage over what could have caused such distress.
My Ivy was here. Beneath the layers of unpleasantness I can taste her crisp apple settling on my tongue. Without my permission, anxious thoughts invade my mind, setting my teeth on edge.
Is she hurting?
Does she ache for me?
How quickly can I ease her suffering?
If I find her, I’ll make it all better. I can take her in my arms, touch and tease her—have her begging for my teeth in her pristine, unmarked throat. Perhaps if Ivy were to experience this obsession I harbor for her, she could love me in return.
Maybe then she would deem me an alpha worthy of her precious heart.
But my sweet love eludes me now, just outside the reach of my care. Frustration like I’ve never known rips a sound from deep within my chest. An animalistic growl to silence the happy chattering around me.
“Oran,” someone calls out.
Not my Ivy, so they’re not important right now.
Did she wander these halls looking for me? Or for Cillian? I’m not even positive I want to know the answer. But I’ll soon need to be prepared for her reaction once she knows the truth about me.
Can I ever truly lay myself bare for her? Hand her a knife so she can either spare me or plunge it straight into my chest with her rejection? If she can’t accept me, I’ll go fucking mad with grief; I know it.
I can’t decide if this bond, this tether to my mate, is a gift from Fate or a curse. How can anyone stand to be so on edge? So dependent on the love of another?
It’s maddening.
Thrilling.
All-consuming.
And I’m losing myself amidst the uncertainty.
“Oran!”
Eyes like dark amber meet mine with panic emanating from their warm depths. Tiernan’s furrowed brow looks so out of place upon the smooth elegance of his handsome face. In all our years of friendship, I’ve rarely seen him direct so much worry my way.
But the sensation of his hands grasping my shoulders is dulled by the buzzing need to seek out my mate and soothe her. To give her pretty things and promise her the world.
“Say something , you growly fucker. You’re scaring us all.”
At any other time, I would indulge my dear friend in this most simple request, but he doesn’t understand. He can’t sense her distress like I can.
“ Mate ” is all I can manage to say. Or maybe I growl it, if he’s to be believed. At present I don’t know if I even exist inside my body any longer.
I push past Tiernan—past Cillian—and barge into his study, where this instinct drags me. She’s here, my Ivy. She needs me.
“Omega!” I call out, distraught and desperate.
On a normal occasion, I would revel in letting her hide from me—as she did last year. I would pretend as if her scent is not some divine beacon constantly lighting a pathway toward her. But now I’m keenly aware we have no time for games.
“ Goddess wept, Oran. What are you doing?” my prime alpha asks as he enters the room. He should be looking for her as I am. Surely he can scent her by now.
She is everywhere , her pungent perfume soaking into each corner of the king’s study. But I don’t see her, can’t find the source of her sweet despair. Until it hits me, a memory I keep hidden in the recesses of my mind: Cillian’s desk.
Confidently, and with haste, I stride to find my mate—my little mess of mischief—curled into herself under the desk. Sweat beads against her fair skin and she shivers with the heat racking her soft body.
When she whimpers, I let instinct take hold and drop to my knees without any regard for the impact of the hard stone floor. Maybe it would hurt if I were able to register anything besides Ivy’s every breath, her wildly beating heart, or the way her skin burns where my fingers brush against it.
My omega is practically on fire, a perfect complement to my scent and the way it intensifies in response to hers. Her perfume invades every part of my consciousness: sticky-sweet apples dipped in the decadence of honey, coated with cinnamon-sugar sex.
Ivy’s pliant body curls into mine as I scoop her into my arms and cradle her to my chest. I purr for her, a new and wondrous sensation thundering freely from my chest. It’s a show of my devotion—of the care and comfort I wish to provide her for all the days of my life. This is how alphas and omegas are meant to be: giving, taking, coming together as one.
Comforted by the steady rumbling of my chest, Ivy stirs, running her nose against my neck in search of the source of my alpha signature. I let it bleed out of me then, holding nothing back as I similarly burn from the inside.
Her soft panting against me is sweet satisfaction, as is the cool, wet drag of her tongue trailing my throat. She sucks there, drawing my skin between her blunt teeth as if she is the alpha and I’m her omega to bite—to claim.
Goddess knows I would gladly wear her bond if such a thing were possible. Still, my inner alpha is pleased with my mate’s attention and the heady decadence of her arousal in the air.
“Oran, dear,” a soft voice calls, feminine and pretty. Omega. Not my omega, but she poses no threat to the treasure in my arms. “The queen is having a heat spike. You need to get her into her nest so she can get her rest.”
I know I can trust this omega, my friend. What she says makes sense as to why Ivy’s perfume is so intense—why I’m presently damn near feral. But I can’t stand parting with her. Instead, I hold my mate tighter so no one is able to steal her from my arms.
Not Cillian.
Not Sloan.
Not even Fiona, who only seeks to assist me in keeping my Ivy safe. With her in my arms—needing me, tasting my skin, and finding comfort from my closeness—I don’t want to give her up.
“You can accompany her, alpha. Your mate needs your scent in the nest to feel secure. Liam will go ahead to ensure the coast is clear. Then you and your packmates can take her there.”
Better. I like the sound of this much better. Taking her to the nest we built for her sparks pride within me. She’ll see we can care for her—treat her so well. Be it her heat or any other matter, we won’t let her down.
Standing to my feet, I cradle the queen of my heart tightly—as if I hold the whole world in my arms. Fiona steps nearer, her brown skin glowing like sun-warmed mahogany as she regards me with a knowing smirk upon her lips. My friend is proud of me and how well I’m protecting my omega. Just as her alphas do for her. At least in this way, I’m succeeding.
“Very good, alpha,” she says, a little placating but I don’t give a shite.
I preen under the praise of caring for my mate.
“Let’s get the queen comfortable and all will be well,” Tiernan says, wrapping an arm around his mate.
I look at my packmates, feeling less like a territorial bastard and more like I want to burst from my own skin with excitement. In each of their gazes I find a similar devotion to the darling omega in my arms. A realization settles over me then.
The road ahead may be difficult to traverse. But this love, this perfect gift we’ve been given, will be more than worth every trying second of the journey.