I would be doing my duty to Forsythe, to the crown, to my own family, and I would be experiencing a pleasure that can only occur between an alpha and an omega.
But now, I can’t imagine doing that with anyone but Florence. Sharing a heat, helping her through it, filling her with my cum. No one but Florence.
Isadora is staring at me hard, waiting for a response, apparently. “As you say, that was before.”
“Beforeshegot her claws into you.” As insults go, this is fairly tame. In fact, it’s not really even an insult, just a turn of phrase. But my alpha still bristles like it is.
“Exactly,” I hiss out. “Once we saw what else was out there,whoelse was out there, can you really blame us for being disappointed with…” I wave a dismissive hand in her direction, “you.”
Isadora makes a wounded sound, but I know she’s not really hurt. She doesn’t care enough about me to be injured by my words. When she doesn’t receive any sort of a response from me, she sighs and pushes to her feet, turning toward me as she smooths her skirt over her hips. This time when she reaches for me, she doesn’t stop when I try to avoid her hands, slipping her fingers into my hair and gripping tight.
I loose a warning growl as she bends, her lips hovering just over mine. “Well, regardless of whether you're disappointed ornot, you’re still going to bond me, aren’t you? Still going to make me a fucking princess because that is what the queen wants. You’ll still bite me, and Florence will see it every fucking time she looks at a picture of me and be reminded that she wasn’t good enough for you.”
She gives me this triumphant look, as though she thinks she’s won something, when really the only thing she’s getting is a broken pack.
I let out a harsh laugh, right in her face and her mouth parts in surprise. “If you think any of us are going to actually bond with you, you’re bloody mad. Do you hear me? We might have to marry you, we might have to act as though you’re our mate.” I reach up and stroke one finger down the column of her neck, making her head tilt and a shiver work its way over her skin. “But I can guarantee you, you will never wear any of our bites. You will never be a bonded member of our pack. You’ll wear a crown, but you will never fucking belong with us.”
I’m being cruel. I know it. I just don’t care.
Isadora has been cruel too. To Ren. My mate. And she was just delighting in the thought of continuing to hurt her, through photos, through our bites.
And I’m being honest.
Knowing what we know, that Ren is our scent matched fated mate, we won’t bond with anyone else, not when that reality might hurt her more than we already have. God, I don’t even want to think about what might happen to her if she were to see our bites on Isadora.
There’s a flicker in the omega’s eyes like she sees my words for the truth they are and it scares her a bit, worries her. She’s no doubt been promised that we’ll be a real pack, that she’ll be adored and pampered and cared for. Pampered? Sure. But not by us. Adored and cared for? No. Not a chance.
She releases my hair and straightens. “You say that now, but just wait. With my first heat you’ll be panting after me, begging to bite me, to knot me.” She shrugs. “It’s just biology, Thayer. I’ll be needing and your alpha will want to provide.”
Again she has that smirk on her face like she’s won something. The corner of my mouth twitches into a smile. She just doesn’t fucking realize what she’s in the middle of. “No, Isadora. That’s not going to happen. At the very first indication of your heat, we’re going to send you away. What you do while you're gone, I couldn’t care less. Rut a pack of roving alphas to get relief if you like, but no one in my pack will touch you.”
It's the least we can do to honor our mate. Ourdyingbloody mate.
It's not enough, though.
I know it’s not.
It's only a matter of time before my alpha snaps, and forces the issue, makes me run to Ren’s side to try to make it right. It's already an itch under my skin, already a need that’s pounding through me. Twenty-four hours of knowing who she is to me, and I’ve nearly called for our plane at least six times.
But Forsythe isn’t ready for that yet. Isn’t ready to say, ‘fuck it’ and choose Ren over everything.
I have to believe he’ll get there, though.
I can only hope that when he does, it won’t be too late.
“But…” Isadora starts, and I don’t wait to see what tripe she might spew from her mouth.
“And with the lovely new laws that the queen has enacted, that you have spoken in support of, any child you bear will have its paternity checked. What will you do when it comes back as none of ours, Isadora?”
She shakes her head. “But the Ashbourne line-”
“I don’t give a fuck about the Ashbourne line.”
“Forsythe does. He won’t leave me to suffer a heat alone.”
I almost laugh at her again. Because no matter what he says, I’m about ninety percent sure that Forsythe won’t be able to stomach touching Isadora. Especially not now. Now that we know Florence is our scent match.
No, we might marry her, make her a princess, but she’ll never be our bonded omega. Never have us with her during her heat. I’ll make sure of it.
