“Killer.”
“Pixie.”
“Cor mea.”
At each term of endearment the omegas grow a little quieter, a little more watchful. Like they’re suddenly realizing, after weeks together, that maybe being friendly with Piers has its benefits.
“How can we help you today, pix?”
I flash Court a quick smile. “I was hoping I could borrow Piers for a bit?”
“Me?” The beta sounds shocked at the notion, as if he can’t understand why I’d want to spend time with him alone.
Which really just breaks my fucking heart.
“Yes, you,” I say, shifting closer to him. “If you’re up for it, of course. And if your pack can spare you.”
The words are out before I can think better of it. Before I can make my tongue remember that Piers is not supposed to be acknowledged as part of the Ashbourne Pack because of stupid Bravonnian societal expectations.
No one comments on it. Not the pack or the omegas. Though the omegas probably think it's more to do with his employment than anything else.
“I’m up for it,” Piers says, sounding thrilled by the idea of spending time with me. The feeling is mutual, but Forsythe’s warning is still ringing in my ears to keep my distance from his beta.
So I level my gaze on him, waiting for him to give the go ahead. Even though it grates. Piers is his own person, capable of making his own decisions. But I’m also not here to step onanyone’s toes, or to sashay boldly over anyone's boundaries. Forsythe is the pack's prime and I know he takes that position seriously.
Even if he goes about it in stupid ways sometimes.
Like ignoring his beta in public.
The prince nods slowly. “Okay. Just… stay where we can see you.”
I cannot stop my eyes from rolling. “Yes, Daddy.”
A low growl, not menacing but heated. Courtland laughs. “Oh, shit, Pix. I think you just unlocked a new kink for Sythe.”
“Though to be fair, I think everything about Ren is a kink for all of us,” Thayer adds, knowingly.
I scowl at him. “Remember what I said about you going back to insulting me? I meant it.”
“What?” Grieves bites out, his head whipping toward his pack mate as he flexes his hands like he’s… readying to hit him. “You insulted her?”
“Relax, bruiser,” I chide, folding my arms over my chest. “Youallinsulted me. Except Piers. Remember? I believe the word you used was unpolished.”
His scowl turns on me then and if another alpha had looked at me like that I might have been worried. But this is Grieves and I know he’d never hurt me. Well, not physically at least. Emotionally is another story. “You know I didn’t mean that shit, bubbles.”
“I don’t know that that’s a thing that I know.” They all just blink at me. Yeesh. NoShe’s the Manfans here, I see.
Piers’s hand slides on to the small of my back, warm and supportive. I want to lean into the touch but am also aware of the still glowering prince watching our every move.
Piers gives my lower back a gentle nudge, subtle enough that no one but me would notice it. “Come on,” he murmurs. “Before they say something else they’ll regret.”
I snort under my breath but let him guide me away, weaving us through clusters of omegas and crew until the noise dulls into a low hum. We stop near one of the shaded seating areas tucked just far enough from the main group to feel private, even if it isn’t. A small table. Two chairs. A clipboard abandoned by production.
The moment we’re out of earshot, his hand falls away—careful, respectful, like he’s afraid of overstepping. It makes something in my chest ache.
I flop into one of the chairs, drop my notebook next to the clipboard and twirl the pen between my fingers, nervously. “So,” I say lightly, even though my heart is still doing a stupid little stutter. “I’m about to plan a date for your pack, and I’m realizing there’s a lot I don’t actually know.”
He leans back against the table instead of sitting, arms folding loosely over his chest. Watching me. Waiting.
