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To the ones who wish on eyelashes, dandelions, and stars. The universe hears you. xx
His/Her Highness: a prince or princess His/Her Majesty: a king or queen His/Her Grace: a duke or duchess Lord/Lady: any other noble title (like our baron)
The prince. Asher Leopold Everhart. The Fifth. Biscuits. Mama is going to be mad. That was the king’s one rule. The housekeeper wanted me to behave like a lady, but His Majesty decreed that none of the employees’ children should “fraternize” with the prince. Which I guess means I’m supposed to leave him alone.
“His official title is ‘Bartholomew Waddlesworth, of the Maytown Manor Ducks.’”
he tilts his head slightly and holds up his book. Solving the mystery of its title once and for all. How To Ballroom Dance for Morons. The fingers wrapped around my wrist twitch again as he blows out a deep breath, scowling seriously. “Do you, by any chance, know how to dance?”
Prince Asher made a pack with his two closest friends from the Royal Academy: our oh-so-charming Baron Sebastian Burns… and Dairragh Vreeland, the notorious Duke of McAffry.
“Oh yes. Dairragh Vreeland, Duke of McAffry. Heir to a veritable fortune and—apparently—in possession of a dick that can run through three women at once. The poor dear.”
Little do they know; logic and duty aren’t the reason I won’t ever find my match. They’re the reason I already lost her.
“I’ve almost finished torturing mon petit.” Her little love. She only calls Asher that, and I suspect he secretly likes it, because he never balks at the endearment. While I internally cringe every time she uses mine. Hailing from France, Maman has one for each of us. Mine—cherie—means darling. And Bast’s—petit chou—literally translates to “little cabbage.”
Okay. Well. That’s… fucking adorable. Am I just supposed to go on with my life? Like knowing there’s a squirrel named Nigel wandering our grounds hasn’t made my entire year?
It’s the image of her dancing under the deluge, smiling at the sky. Now I know. That was the moment I fell in love. Young and clueless, but true. And permanent, apparently.
She has no jewelry. And, goddamn it, that’s wrong. She should be dripping in diamonds and aquamarines. My omega should always— Whoa. WHOA. Wait. What?
The ballroom’s lights reflect off her skin and hair, glowing. And holy shit. Holy. Shit. That’s our mate.
Unlike Asher’s stoic stillness, Dair’s body is slack. His mouth hangs wide for several seconds before the features visible under his simple, black mask twist in absolute horror.
I suck in a deep breath, inhaling absolute heaven. And it smells like shortbread.
All the things I said when she had me vulnerable and open. This is why. The maid is our mate. And—oh Christ—the things I’ve said. The things I’ve made her do. The ways I tried to push her away. I can never take any of it back.
She inhales sharply as our palms meet. I understand why when an answering snap of electricity thunders through my veins. Crackling up my arm, right down to the quiet corner where my heart sits. Covered in ivy.
Dark, shining beams connect with my gaze. The voice inside me rises, higher and more frantic. I’m here, I’m here, I’m right here. And, this time, Dair answers her. “Hey,” he murmurs, low and urgent. “Hey, I see you. It’s okay. Stay with me, all right? Stay with me, baby.”
“Who’s Ivy? Our mate? You know her?” Asher closes his fist around the silver heart charm and swallows. His free hand gestures at his chest—where we both know he only has one tattoo. “The girl,” he says. “Her name was Ivy. Is Ivy.”
“That was her?” Bast crows, his eyes somehow even rounder. “No,” I bite out. My eyes drop closed while regret and fear hurtle through me. “That was our maid.”
No. Today, I go back to being nobody. The maid Dair hates and Ash ignores and Bast chats to while he texts other people.
Asher will want his tea straight away, along with whatever’s left of that banana bread I baked him and a plate of bacon. Bast likes a green juice—but if he’s had too much to drink, he also downs a glass of raw eggs and allows himself half a muffin. I giggle every time I order it, knowing the cooks will roll their eyes. After a big party, Dair always requires fresh sheets and… rehydration. Three bottles of Voss water and a plate of fruit with his toast usually does the trick.
“So Ivy is a late bloomer?” Dr. Grant grimaces. Dair’s chest snags on a new snarl as Asher shifts, his eyes flashing. The poor man mops his palms on this white coat. “Actually, Ivy’s results are more consistent with an omega who’s been… abused.”
“Pardon me?” To my shock, Dair stands and steps away, walking back toward our pack leader. “You and I are leaving. Ivy is in pain, and she needs help. But neither of us has even apologized to her yet. Can’t you sense how sad she is? Because of us. She’s more comfortable with Bast right now. So. Out.”
Her crystalline gaze drops to the tattoo branded there, the image I got to remind me of her. A perfect anatomical rendering of my heart, wrapped in delicate vines of ivy. Our omega gasps. Her burned scent starts to brighten. “A-ash…” I purr without effort, bending to rub my forehead against hers. “If you’re the same girl I knew,” I murmur, “then you are the one I’ve loved and missed every damn day since I made the mistake of letting you go. And that makes you my queen.”
If they go back to their real home without me, who will bake Asher banana bread when he’s had a bad day? Or leave strategic bottles of water around for Dair? And Bast never remembers his keys…
Our omega better be careful, or she’ll end up wearing tattooed hand necklaces every night.
Asher looks right into my eyes, ignoring the raindrops falling from his brows. “I love you, Ivy.”
my center. He says them again, closer. Our lips brush as he presses his forehead against mine. “I have loved you since the day I met you. And I think you may be the only person in the world who’s ever known me well enough to love me back. So, even though I don’t deserve it, I hope, one day, you will.”
“That won’t happen,” I whisper. “Because I already love you. I never—I never stopped, Ash.”
“If my princess needs a lesson,” he decides, “I’ll be the one to teach it.” Dair’s mouth drops open as the prince works Ivy free from his half-full knot. She squeaks as he lifts her onto her knees and abruptly moves to put his face under her leaking pussy, guiding her hands to balance on his abdomen. I hand the breakfast tray to Dair, who turns and sets it outside the nest, his dark eyes never leaving our mate’s thighs, spread over our pack alpha’s face. “This,” he murmurs darkly, “Is queening. Riding our faces until you get off. Any way you want.”
Desperate need simmers in her irises when she suddenly pulls back far enough to speak around the veins throbbing up Dair’s length. “Please, my lord,” she pants, glancing at Asher’s groin. “Please.” Well, fuck. What did I say about insulting a queen on her throne? Asher’s ragged groan confirms the prince is down for anything his princess desires. And if she wants to watch one of her alphas jack another off?
I press a button on the small remote, illuminating the constellations I installed above us. It took hours to get that shit right. I spent two afternoons sitting up here with a map of the stars laid out in front of me, carefully adhering pinprick LEDs in the correct patterns. Now, our girl has an exact replica of the night sky in her nest.
“This way, you always have a star handy. I figured my girl deserves as many wishes as she can make.”
“That tiara was my mother’s,” he tells me, taking a slow sip from the tumbler in his right hand, flashing a gold ring inlaid with the Everhart’s signature sapphires. “And her grandmother’s before that.” Oh, figs. I open my mouth to apologize, but the king suddenly pins his golden gaze on mine. “I’m honored for you to wear it, Ivy.”
“I know I was doubtful about all this,” he goes on. “I apologize if I ever made you feel less welcome here. I only… I know better than anyone how hard this job is. And I want my son to have a partner who will make it bearable for him the way my Selene has for me.”
My heart aches, emotion finally spilling down my face when Asher cups my chin and turns me to face him. “Be our queen,” he whispers. “Because you’ve always been the center of my whole damn universe. But now you’re the center of ours.”
“Why didn’t you wake me, huh?” I ask, squeezing her tighter. “I would have snuck out with you.” “I—I know,” she warbles. “B-but I needed to fit my mom’s sewing table in the back of a car with me, and I was trying t-to—” Pain creases her forehead. “—surprise Bast. Get Asher’s approval. Make you…” I scent-mark her cheek with my own, murmuring against her temple. “Make me…?” “Proud,” she croaks, almost too quiet to hear. Fuck. Her heat’s about to start, and all she wanted was our approval. Our… love. She snuck out to surprise us, not to leave us behind.
Our baby’s Omega has a different nature with each of us. For me, she’s an abominable brat, demanding and spoiled. To Bast, she’s playful and teasing. But our pack alpha gets this softer, more vulnerable version.
Instead, there’s a little alcove. A secret place that reminds me of the one we used to hunker down in together. Behind him, I sense a gate. A straight path to him. And another at my back. But now, we’re both here. In this magic hiding spot we made. There you are, he thinks, full of raw emotion. It feels like I’ve been missing you forever.
I love you, goose. My heart has always belonged to you—but now my soul does, too.
You did it, angel, he exults. My perfect girl.
Because he cares so much, it crushes him. So much, he has to find ways to turn it off. Stuff it down. Talk himself out of it. Except now he can’t. Now, he loves me. And it’s shifted the very foundation of his being. She knows I love her, right? Please, God. She has to know. I hear him and start to cry, whining as I fling my arms around his neck. I hear you, I tell him, and then repeat the one thing he’s always said for me. I see you. Do you feel how much I love you, too?
Exhaustion winds its way into my body. Rest, now, darling, Asher says, his pride and adoration warming me. Yeah, baby, Dair agrees. We’re here. We’ll always be here, angel, Bast adds. Forever.
Once upon a time, there was a lonely prince. The image is so clear. A pond and a willow tree. Fog rolling across still water. And a boy with a book, pretending to look busy as he reads all alone. I’m not sure how I know he’s just pretending, but the way it feels to have to act like a kid who doesn’t want friends… the pain of that curls tight in my lungs, coiling right in the spot that squeezes tears into my throat.
Which was sort of a problem, it says, because this story also has one very pissed-off duke.
The two misfits somehow ended up forming their own pack, thanks to help from their friend.
A third, much more amused voice cuts in —who was much better looking, infinitely charming, and a world-class athlete… but still, against all odds, equally lonely.
The first voice fades back in, explaining a new picture of the three men as young adults, sitting around a dinner table. For years, it says, they tried their best to make their own family. But as time wore on, they found themselves feeling just as alone, even with one another.
They needed something to bind them together. A mate, the most serious voice tells me. But the lonely prince was already in love with a girl he once knew. The only person who had ever made him feel less alone. The roughest one interrupts, And the duke had a similar problem, since he was obsessed with a woman who pieced him back together in an alleyway. Someone so kind and good, she did everything she could to heal him even when he tried to break her apart.
