36. Cillian
I miss my wife.
After knowing the perfect ecstasy of having her in my bed, in my arms, and holding her high regard—I’m fucking withering away with this distance between us. It’s not right to be apart, especially when Ivy’s this close to her heat.
I should be at her side, growing this new love we only just began to nurture. At least, I thought our hearts were aligned. I can’t even tell how she feels anymore, only that when she looks at me, it’s no longer with tenderness. Instead she’s guarded, shuttering away the sweet smiles and witty quips I’ve come to adore.
I understand why Ivy’s upset, but I wish she would forgive me and welcome me back into the warmth of her affection. Never in all my life would I want to hurt my sweet mate.
Even before I knew of our scent match, I planned to do right by her. Though our betrothal wasn’t something we chose, I was eager to know her.
Like Ivy, I had romantic notions of falling in love and building a happy life. I hoped to show her that Oran and Sloan could be good alphas to her as well; together we could break the cycle of our predecessors and live in spite of those who would have us suffer and die for little more than vanity.
When I scented my mate, however, I lost my fucking head.
All plans of careful courting and spending time getting to know each other during her visit flew out the window. I could hardly stand to be in her presence for one minute without my teeth aching to claim her. My knot would swell at the mere thought of rutting her—of getting her round with my child like some mindless animal who sought pleasure over practicality.
Gods, I was an eejit. I know this now. Lying to her, no matter how noble the justification, was a fucking disaster of an idea. Ivy was always meant to be my queen—my partner—and she had every right to be informed once I learned of the gift we’d be given.
Even if she’d reacted poorly to the news of my plans for a pack, I could have spent the time and effort to win her over to the idea. But I was selfish, wanting her safe and secure in my court—in my bed—so no one could take my sweet fate from me.
Ivy deserves so much better than me and my stupid plans.
I’m just so used to making decisions for others. Even as a boy I felt the weight of responsibility for my kingdom, and my brothers. We may be triplets, but I’m the oldest—the heir apparent and their keeper. When my mother got sick and I learned my father knew how to save her but wouldn’t, I made a promise to myself to be better than he was. Not only for my brothers and me, but for all the people of Namara who’d been tricked into early graves for the sake of tradition.
All that will change when the people of our court learn of our pack and the plans we have for a new Namara.
“You’re not even listening to me!” Ciaran shouts, cutting through wallowing thoughts of my mate. “This is typical. You with your head in the clouds, Callan is fuck knows where, and me—invisible. No one pays any mind or respect to the middle child.”
“Fuck’s sake almighty, Ciaran,” I grumble. “Can we temper the dramatics a bit?”
My brother has been spectacularly on edge the closer we get to this coronation. I’m grateful to him for all he’s done to ensure its success while my focus is elsewhere. But I wonder if his short temper has more to do with personal matters.
His intended, Prince Lanier, is set to arrive in Namara soon. Once he does, he won’t be leaving; Ciaran’s wedding to the prince is not far off.
My brother and Lanier are like Ivy and me: betrothed since birth in order to forge alliances across the sea. Unfortunately, with Ciaran’s impending nuptials, his dalliances with Prince Aspen must soon come to an end.
We’ve yet to broach that subject, and I can sense now is not the time either. I only hope he’ll be happy, regardless of what comes.
Ciaran throws his head back, cackling. “Don’t speak to me of dramatics, you self-important prick. You’re about to turn our entire way of life upside down, and all I’ve done is support you. The least you could do is listen when I’m discussing details of your coronation.”
I sigh. As much as I hate to admit it, Ciaran’s right. “I’m sorry,” I offer. “Please continue.”
My brother nods, the flush of annoyance bleeding from his fair cheeks. “As I was saying, you and the queen will enter through the?—”
The echoing clang of the throne room doors interrupt the prince. The scent of spiced apples and all things lovely floats upon the air, making my mouth water. My queen—my beautiful omega—enters, looking the picture of sensual beauty with her ocean eyes trained on me.
I wish more than anything they held the same warmth as they did on our wedding night, but I’m prepared to do what it takes to win back her heart.
Beside me Ciaran exhales, resigned to the fact he’s now lost the very little attention he held. When Ivy is near, she steals all of my focus. “Well, this has been a splendid waste of time,” he says. “I’ll leave you to it, brother.” He greets my wife, bowing at the waist with a polite “Your Majesty” before exiting and sealing off the room to give us privacy.
I’m not sure that’s what Ivy wants, given the way she’s biting her bottom lip. But, if I’m honest, I’m pleased at the chance to have her full attention.
“You’re more beautiful every time I lay upon you, darling,” I say in hopes to draw a smile from her perfect mouth. My words may mean little at this point, but she deserves the praise.
Ivy nods, unsmiling, and steps closer. “I—” She hesitates. The flush upon her cheeks speak to nervousness, or perhaps her impending heat is affecting her greatly today.
I close the distance between us, hoping she won’t retreat when I place a hand beneath her chin and draw her gaze to mine. “What do you need?”
“It’s silly.” Her tense tittering unsettles me almost as much as her belief I would ever consider her requests frivolous.
“ Never , omega. I told you before, I’ll do anything you ask of me. Just tell your alpha what you need.”
My mate sighs, leaning against the steadiness of my chest and buries her nose against my throat. “I just felt like I needed you—needed your scent. But if you’re busy, I can take my leave.”
Panic courses through me and I secure an arm around her waist, holding her tight. She can’t leave. Not when this is the first contact I’ve had with her in days. Not when she sought me out. I’ll show her now that regardless of what’s happened, she can depend on me. “I’m never too busy for you.”
Ivy breathes me in, taking comfort in my alpha signature, her sweet scent perfuming the air around us. Gods, it’s so potent, so mouth-watering that I’d die to get her taste on my tongue. There’s so much we didn’t get to discover about each other and I could kick myself for not taking the opportunity to spend hours with my head between her beautiful legs.
This isn’t the important thing, at present. What I really need is for us to talk through our problems, but my scent match is so near to her heat. It’s a natural response, as her alpha, to be ready to please her at any given moment.
“I wish we could go back to the moment you realized,” she whispers. Her arms wrap around my neck, her perfect tits pressing against my chest, and I’m seconds from begging Ivy to take me back to her nest. “I wish we could start over.”
Gods. She has no idea.
While I can’t regret any of our time spent together, I would do things differently if given the opportunity. But all my wishes won’t turn back the hands of time. As much as I hate that I’ve hurt her, the only way through this mess is forward.
With my nose in her hair, I steal a bit of her scent, letting it ground me as I ask for absolution. “I’m so sorry I can’t grant you that wish, darling. But I swear, if you can forgive me, I’ll never do anything to lose your trust again.”
Ivy’s answering sigh is swift and sad, like she can’t fathom such a thing could be possible. She pulls back—her beautiful ocean eyes a storm of tears and anguish. “I don’t think I’m quite ready to do that.”
Sharp pain, like a searing blade, cuts open my chest to expose my bleeding heart to her. I can’t stand it—can’t stand how powerless I feel to make her see that my love is pure and full of good intention. But I deserve this, for breaking her trust. An omega should never have to question her alpha mate.
“I understand. I’ll wait as long as I must to earn a place in your heart again.”
Ivy nods, lifting up on her toes to bless my cheek with the soft press of her lips. “Soon, I think, Cillian. I’m trying.”
It’s so much more than I’ve earned, but I cherish the small hope she’s left at my feet. Just as I savor the warmth—the radiant resonance—that lingers where her lips touched.
It’s all I have to hold me over as she leaves the comfort of my embrace, taking my heart along with her.