Ren’s expression eases a bit at the princess’s reassurance.
“There was only one way this was going to end, Florence,” Forsythe tells her, thumbs sweeping over her cheeks in a gentle caress. “With my bite on your pretty neck, and your soul bound to mine. I was a fool to ever think this wouldn’t be it.”
Ren hums, like she’s not fully convinced, but she doesn’t argue. “So we’ll stay here for a bit,” she concedes, “But I don’t want to write off Bravonne entirely. Okay?” She flicks her kaleidoscope gaze to Thayer. “Dual citizenship, like you said.”
On the other end of the line, Lizzie blows out a relieved breath. “We’ll do what we can over here. I don’t think it’ll take too long, but you never know. Grams is a stubborn old bitch.”There’s a thumping on her side and then she says. “I’ve got to go, we’ll keep you informed of what’s going on here.”
She hangs up after we all chorus our goodbyes, and then there’s a strained moment of silence as we come to terms with what this means. We’ve essentially been exiled from our home. Sure there’s an end to it, but this has always been Forsythe’s greatest fear.
“You’re sure about this?” Florence asks, wrapping her arms around our prime’s neck. “You’re next in line for the throne. Do you really want to give that up? Your duty?”
Our prime scoops his arm under her butt and lifts her onto the counter in front of him, using her ass to push his plate back. Her legs winding easily around his hips. “I’m sure. So sure, love.” He pauses for a moment and then sighs. “In the interest of being fully transparent, you should know I’m also not next in line for the throne. Or at least I won’t be.”
Florence’s brow wrinkles. “Wait… is Elizabeth pregnant?”
He pecks the tip of her nose. “No, Bree is.”
Thayer lets out a curse. “No wonder the queen threw a fit and passed that obnoxious law.”
Florence flicks her gaze at all of us and I can practically see her mind working, trying to figure it out. “I don’t understand,” she says eventually. “What does the law have to do with it?”
“On the surface,” I say, happy to clear up the confusion. “The law protects omegas from coercion and unwanted or forced bonds, right?”
Ren rolls her eyes. “On the surface, the law restricts omega movements and their rights to choose who they bond with and when. But sure, what you said.”
I chuckle while Forsythe gives her a sharp smack on the butt and mutters, “behave.”
“There’s also another facet of the law buried near the end where lawmakers probably overlooked it. It states that in royaland noble packs a child’s lineage must be verified for them to be named heir to any titles.”
Ren’s pretty pink mouth drops open. “So what you’re saying is because Bree is the mother of the child and not Elizabeth, their pack’s first born wouldn’t be the crown prince or princess? Because they don’t carry the Ashbourne blood?”
“Exactly,” Forsythe says, nuzzling into Ren’s neck as she tilts her head to give him access. “Needless to say, Lizzie was pissed when she found out about it and has been working to keep the law from going into effect ever since, right alongside working to get Grandmother dear to abdicate.”
“She’s never going to willingly give up her throne,” Court says, stalking toward our prime and omega, intent clear in his eyes.
I shake my head. “Of course, she won’t. Not without a fight. But her base is already weakened, has been weakened for years. She just doesn’t want to admit it.”
“It shouldn’t take much for Lizzie to apply the right amount of pressure to get her to cave. And once that happens,” Thay shrugs. “We’ll be able to come and go as we please.”
“Can we help?” Ren asks, eyes closed, brow wrinkled like she’s trying to focus but finding it hard when Sythe is tonguing his mating mark. I know exactly how hard that can be. “Find a way to destabilize her from here?”
Court lets out a little growl as he presses into our omega’s side, fisting her hair to lift it and give him access to the other side of her neck. Her perfume, already wafting off her in waves, grows thicker with need.
Thayer strokes his fingers over his chin like a movie villain as he considers Ren’s question. “I’m sure we can think of something.”
“Enough talking,” Grieves mutters, stool scraping against the tile as he stands. “Our omega is needing. Nothing else matters.”
Ren opens her mouth like she’s going to argue, but the only sound that comes out is a moan when Forsythe grinds his cock against her. “You’re needs always come first,cor mea,” he tells her, scooping her off the counter and carrying her toward the pool house. “Always.”
Episode 36: Queen of Heats… Er, Hearts
Florence
I honestly never thought I’d be here again.
Sitting across from a journalist, a camera pointed at my face. But unlike that regretful interview with Heather Howle, this time I’m surrounded by my pack and have five mating marks visible on my neck.
Oh, and the interviewer is Cleo Hartwell, with Lulu and Marshall hovering over her shoulder.
