Then again, the myth had also never mentioned anything about time travel, so what did I know?
“I…” Lancelot trailed off, his gaze drifting away from me. “I did not know how to approach you, your majesty.”
“Guinevere,” I corrected. “If we’re going to be talking about us and the pack, you should call me by my name.”
Lancelot seemed uncomfortable, but he corrected himself anyways. “Guinevere.”
My name coming from his mouth made a sudden shiver ripple down my spine and the itchiness in my skin seemed to increase.
Never before had I wished as badly that I had modern medicine here with me in the past because I really wanted to takeBenadryland go to sleep until my skin had a chance to calm down.
“You kissed me and then did not give me a moment to respond that night,” Lancelot finally said with a sigh.
My face warmed thinking of how I had done the same to Bedivere and Merlin as well. I put my hands over my eyes and groaned. “Yeah, I guess I have definitely developed a habit of running away.”
The confident take-no-shit daughter that my mother had painstakingly raised seemed to have left the building as soon as she died, and now to top it off, I couldn’t seem to face my problems head on. But I was working on it.
If only the past had some kind of therapist to go to I’d be all set, but they’d probably try to stick leeches on me or something, or god forbid, declare me insane.
The scent of bergamot filled my nose. At some point, while I was busy ruminating on my current mental state, Lancelot had gotten up from his seat and come to stand in front of me.
“I am nothing compared to a king, Guinevere,” Lancelot told me softly as he pulled my hands away from his eyes. “I have nolands, no wealth, and no title as it will be passed down to my half-brother.”
“I don’t need any of that,” I replied.
Lancelot’s eyes warmed, but his next words sent a wave of sadness through me. “What could I possibly do for you then? Sir Bedivere and Sir Gawain haveuse,what could I add to your collection of alphas that they cannot?”
“I am notcollectingalphas, Lancelot, this is notPokémonand I’m not trying to catch them all,” I told him, my voice filled with sarcasm. “I… I think what I’ve really been building is a new family after losing the only one I ever had.”
One thing I had quickly realized upon coming to the past was that I was never alone anymore. There were people here who cared for me—who loved me even. There were no days where I would never speak to another soul at work and then go home to my empty flat with barely any furniture in it.
Arthur, Gawain, Bedivere, Merlin, and yes, even Lancelot had made it so that I was never alone anymore and I liked to think that coming together as a pack would be good for them.
I rarely ever saw Lancelot speak with anyone either and assumed that he was just as lonely as I had been despite being in Arthur’s inner circle.
“What is aPokémon?” Lancelot asked, his dark brows furrowing with confusion.
“It’s not important,” I told him with a shake of my head. “What is important is how I feel and how you feel—” A violent twist in my abdomen suddenly stopped me in my tracks.
“Guinevere?” Lancelot asked before inhaling a ragged drag of the air around us. “Oh.”
It had been years since I had an active heat cycle without using suppressants, so I almost didn’t realize what his exclamation meant until a hot shiver rippled down my spine.
“No,” I groaned, dropping into a squat in front of him as my body seemed to turn against me. “It’s too soon.”
I had only been off of the suppressants for a few months—but my doctor had told me that, when getting off of them after taking them for so long, it could take up to a year for the heat to return.
That was why I paid no mind to my itchy skin and yo-yoing thoughts. I figured it was a byproduct of being yanked through time into a magical land full of hot alphas and new pollen.
But no. There was no mistaking it now: I was about to fall headlong into a heat and my husband was out fighting a battle. Shit. Shit.Shit.
“I shall go and retrieve Bedivere and Gawain,” Lancelot told me, his voice tight as he tried not to breathe in my scent which was undoubtedly wafting off of me in thick waves.
I reached up and grabbed his hand before he could leave.
“I want you,” I said, my voice heavy with need. “Please, Lancelot, don’t reject me again.”
It was pathetic, but my dignity was going to have to take a backseat as my inner-omega gleefully took over all rational thought.
