29. Oran
A ll night I rehearsed what I’d say when I saw my mate again. All of it was shite, and not good enough, never encompassing exactly how I felt when it came to her.
She upends me, my Ivy. Her presence drives me to madness. Would it feel like this in our bond? Crazed, untethered? How would I be able to withstand such a thing? And why do I want it anyway? Sloan is sure the storm inside me will settle once she and I bond. He says she’ll ground us all, but what does he know of bonding, really? Secondhand accounts are no match for the real thing.
Regardless of what I practiced to say, no matter how many ways I thought to tell her I’m sorry and ask for her to just fucking love me—the moment Ivy turns and faces me, every thought evaporates from my head.
She is ethereal, as always. Her long, earthen hair shines, her eyes a master study in the deepest shades of blue. Unreal .
My omega defies the bounds of beauty.
But this morning, it’s not her pretty eyes or her rose-petal lips that have me speechless, but rather the shining, silver crescent adorning her elegant neck.
Gods. What in the fuck did Sloan do?
I move from the chamber, panicking—is this panic? This rapid thumping in my chest?
Ivy bonded with Sloan, and that is decidedly not good—not what we planned. So why am I grinning and aching to laugh?
Fuck.
She bonded with Sloan. The gardener. The common-born alpha before her beloved royal husband. Sloan is twice the alpha of any noble I’ve ever met, but I’ve known him my whole life. She’s known him a day and already let him claim her?
She chose him.
Hope cracks the stone walls that enclose my heart.
Maybe we could really have everything. Maybe she could want me too.
Fuck, this isn’t panic. This is madness— glee .
Cillian is going to lose his mind. He’s a planner—such a careful man—but it seems all bets are off in this new life we’re forging. Ivy has brought light, and chaos, and magic upon us.
“Lord Rafferty.” Her silky voice rings out from behind me as she steps into the hall and regards me with an arched brow.
“Stunning,” I say, eyes trained on her throat. I watch how it bobs when she swallows. I think my mark would look rather beautiful there as well.
What I wouldn’t give to taste her in my mouth as her soul twines with mine.
“I—” She pauses, wide-eyed and uncertain of how to explain herself. But she doesn’t need to. She is perfect. A masterpiece.
Mine.
Ours , it seems, at long last.
“You are stunning, omega. What a treasure you’ve given our Sloan.”
It’s dangerous to utter such a thing, to speak the truth of what’s happened out in the open. But before we get to Cillian, she should hear it. She should know how sacred and beautiful it is to bond. She may be angry with me, but she’s my mate. I want to shower her with praise so long as she’ll let me.
“Thank you,” she breathes. She reaches to trace along the mark, and I all but shudder just thinking of her skin beneath my fingers. I’d love nothing more than to mark her up so prettily—give her something more to admire.
In time, I hope. If she can find me worthy. Gods know, I’m not. But hope is a powerful, drugging thing. Just as the world took it from me, Ivy has given it right back.
“You said the king required me?” she asks.
I try to regain my composure and blink the sparkling wonder from my eyes. “In your chambers. He’s waiting.”
She bites her bottom lip. A move too sensual not to be criminal. “And will you be there too, alpha?” Ivy’s scent sweetens, her eyes glassy with what looks like lust. Goddess. My heart will give out for how much it pounds when she’s near.
“I’ll be there for as long as you like, omega.”
She nods, turning to make the short trek to where her king awaits. The view from behind is far too enticing. Every step, every sway of her hips, and I’m another foot deeper into the pull of her orbit.
I hope she never exiles me from the warmth of her light again. It’s too intoxicating, and I couldn’t stand to lose it.
“Ivy—Your Majesty,” I correct myself as we traverse the castle corridors.
She turns her head, her eyes soft and questioning. “Lord Rafferty?”
I exhale, letting go of the hurt I’ve carried since last night. Each time I try to deny myself this woman, I’m reminded what a fool I am. “I’m so very sorry.” I need her to believe me, to know that what was done was all in pursuit of our future together—of her health. When Cillian explains, I’m certain she’ll understand even better.
Ivy’s answer is a quirk of her lip and heated longing in her ocean eyes. “I know, Oran.”
When she turns back and continues on her way, my grin is wide—bright as this new day.
My omega will forgive me. She’ll allow me the same honor she gave to Sloan. What she didn’t say with words, she said in her loving stare.
My mate will have me.
I just need to prove myself first.