It vanishes as soon as I hear Court’s voice call out, “it’s only us, Pix!”
Blowing out a breath of relief, I finish doing up the side zipper on my dress and pick up my heels, carrying them as I exit my room, and hurry down the stairs, only to pause midway when I catch sight of the Ashbourne pack—my pack—waiting at the bottom, looking up at me with hungry intensity.
My breath catches as I take them in.
Forsythe stands at the center in a perfectly cut black tux, all sharp lines and quiet authority. Crisp white shirt, black bow tie, not a single detail out of place. He looks like power—controlled, contained—and his gaze locks onto me like he doesn’t know how to look away.
Courtland is temptation at his side, dressed in midnight blue instead of black, the fabric catching the light when he shifts. No tie, his collar open just enough to be distracting, his smirk slow when he sees me staring.
Thayer is softer, but no less dangerous in charcoal and a dark tie. He looks like he belongs behind a lectern, not standing there watching me like that—focused, intent, barely holding himself together.
Grieves is all blunt edges in all black, his jacket stretched across his shoulders, collar open like he couldn’t be bothered with formality. His gaze drags over me, heavy and possessive, and my breath stutters.
And Piers…
God.
Piers in deep navy, softer than the rest, his tie just slightly crooked like he’s been fussing with it. He looks warm, approachable. And the way he’s looking at me? Like I’meverything.
They all are, actually.
And it’s overwhelming.
“What’s going on?” I ask, feeling dazed and wholly unprepared for the majesty of all five of them dressed up like this. In suits and ties and looking so goddamn dapper.
Court grins and bounds up the stairs to my side. “What’s going on, Pixie, is that you look bloody gorgeous.” I start to shake my head. But he pinches my chin to keep it in place. “No, don’t deny it. It is simply a fact. You look gorgeous. The end.”
Heat gathers between my breasts and spreads upwards. He grins and then bends to brush the lightest of kisses over my lips, so unlike him that it startles me. He grins when he pulls back. “Don’t want to mess up your lipstick before the night begins.”
I’m still hazy when he guides me down the stairs to the rest of his pack. We pull to a stop in front of Forsythe and the restof the pack closes ranks around us—around me, clustering close. Hands brush over patches of bare skin. My hair is pushed over my shoulder to tumble down my back.
“Court’s right,” Thayer murmurs. “You look bloody gorgeous, killer.”
Grieves shakes his head. “You might need to call me that tonight, Thay, because I will straight up murder every person who even looks at our omega in this dress.”
“Is it too much?” I ask, fingering the skirt near the top of the slit. “Should I go change?”
“No,” Forsythe tells me. “No. You look perfect,cor mea.”
“Gorgeous, as I said.”
“Grieves just means you look good enough to eat, and he doesn’t want anyone else thinking they might like a taste,” Piers reassures me with a soft kiss to my cheek.
“Oh, okay.” I still feel a little shaking, a little unsure, but I’d definitely felt beautiful when I put on the gown, so I should let their reassurance bolster that.
“May I?” Forsythe asks, motioning to my shoes dangling from my fingers.
“What? Oh, I can-” I cut off when the prince takes them from my limp, unresistant fingers and drops to his knees in front of me… for the second time in a few days.
I blink at the top of his head as he looks at his pack mates. “Hold up her dress.”
So many hands rush to do as he ordered, carefully holding the fabric up and out of the way and I have the absolutely crazy thought that Forsythe is going to eat me out right here in the living room, but he just taps the side of my right ankle and orders, “up.”
I do it on instinct more than anything, as he cups my heel and helps lift it while the rest of the pack keeps me steady. It's a good thing too. If left to my own devices, I would have tumbledright over when Forsythe, the prince of Bravonne, bends further and brushes a reverent kiss over the top of my foot.
I mean… what is even happening right now?
A whine pulls from my chest as he lingers there, breath warming my skin. I feel him smile against it, a sly knowing thing, before he reaches for my first heel, carefully slides it on my foot, and then sets it down.
