Page 24

Chapter 23

Proud

Sinclair

“ O o, I love it! ” Merigold claps her hands, and I give a little spin in my dress for the ball. “It’s sexy and villainous, yet elegant. Don’t you think?” she asks Penelope, who is pinning the hem.

She giggles quietly, barely audible. “You stole the words out of my mouth, miss.”

Much like I did at the beginning of the Trials, Merigold has been avoiding her alphas as much as possible. She’s been spending a lot of time in our wing, and I’ve found I don’t totally hate her company . . . . I may even like her.

Plus, the gown fitting was a welcome distraction while my alphas meet with some of the most powerful men in the city. Ecker insisted I come along, but I declined. I am secure in my role within this pack now. I don’t need to be included in this meeting to prove it.

Another thing I don’t need proof of is the deep-seated misogyny that seems woven into the DNA of all powerful men. Maybe if this wasn’t our one shot, I would have taken him up on his offer, but it is. I’ll pick and choose my battles to win the war.

And I might as well look stunning while I do it. The black dress is truly the most beautiful thing I’ve ever worn. The high-fitted waist tops a subtle mermaid skirt with a daring slit up one side. The off-the-shoulder neckline is capped with short sleeves and has a plunging V in the notched bodice.

“I’m out of pins,” Penelope mumbles under her breath, but before she can get up, I ask Merigold to grab them for her.

“They’re right next to that notebook—” I hold my breath, immediately regretting asking. Why did I just leave the diary lying out like that?

I’m internally cursing myself and praying Merigold doesn’t notice when: “Is that an azure aster?” Merigold tilts her head to get a better look at the leather journal without picking it up. “That’s the Azurite symbol. Is that from the vault?”

I swallow and debate my options. Merigold certainly has her flaws, but stupidity isn’t one of them. If I lie and she can tell, we might lose the fragile trust we’ve built. Something we can’t risk happening right before the ball. Same logic applies if I try to get away with only telling her half the picture.

We demanded she be brutally honest, so it’s only fair that I am too.

“No, it’s not from the vault. It was my great-great-grandmother’s. Four generations ago, she was an Azurite omega that ran away during the Trials.”

Merigold’s jaw literally drops. “Oh. My. God. You’re an Azurite omega. ”

“Yeah.” I grimace with a half-shrug.

“No, no, you don’t get it.” She waves her hands frantically. “You’re the Azurite omega.”

“What do you mean?” I ask and feel Penelope freeze where she’s working behind me.

“Your great-great-grandmother was the last Azurite-born omega.”

I try to process her words. “But what about Philomena?”

“She’s originally a Cobalt. All omegas since your grandma ran away have been from other families. The Azurites are terrified their bloodline is going to disappear. I’m assuming the Elders don’t know?” I shake my head. Her eyes grow wide. “Oh my god, do you know what this means?”

It feels like the blood drains from my face. “I have no idea.”

“Me either.” She laughs, almost manically. “But this gives us one hell of a wild card—or joker or—I don’t know card games!” she excitedly shouts. “All I know is this is something.”

When the guys come back from the meeting, Merigold has already left and I’ve changed into one of Titus’s giant tee shirts that fits me like a comfy dress while Penelope works on alterations for the gown. I leap off the couch as soon as they enter.

“How did it go?” I wasn’t feeling too nervous until Merigold went to have dinner with her pack. The new information about the Azurites left me reeling.

“I guess we’ll find out tomorrow.” Ecker shrugs and drops into the armchair.

I pry for more. “So, they agreed—wait, where’s Titus?” I look to the door like he’s going to walk in, right on cue.

Ecker gets an unreadable smirk on his face, and I turn to Bishop for clarity. He gives nothing away with a subtle lift of his shoulders.

“Is he okay?” My heart picks up pace anxiously, even though I know he must be fine if they are acting so lackadaisical.

“Seventeen, I think this is where you come in,” Bishop says encouragingly.

“Oh, yes, sir.” She squeaks and jumps up from where she’s working. “Omega, would you please come with me?”

“Okay . . .” I follow her to the door. Realizing we’re about to leave the wing, I ask, “Do I need shoes?”

She looks down at my bare feet for a beat, then says unconvincingly, “Um . . . no?”

“No, you’re fine,” Ecker says with more surety and a light laugh.

I hesitantly let Penelope lead me away. I start to think we are going to the dining hall, but when we don’t take that turn, I ask, “Why does this feel like a trap?”

“I don’t believe it is, Omega.”

“What kind of answer is that, Penelope?” I scoff lightheartedly.

I soon realize we are headed toward the Great Hall, and I can’t help my body’s physical reaction. My chest tightens with only bad memories from behind those doors. “Do you know what this is about?”

The corner of her mouth tugs in a shy smile. “I believe so, Omega.”

I laugh lightly, trying to dispel my budding anxiety. “And you’re not going to tell me, are you?”

The corner of her mouth tugs in a shy smile. “No, ma’am, I’m not.” 1

We reach the grand entrance doors and my heart thumps heavily.

“This is where I leave you,” Penelope says softly, and I nod, reaching for the door, my heart in my throat.

The first thing I see is the reflection of dancing flames on the polished marble floor. Memories of the ceremony come rushing back to me. Hands all over my body, causing pain. Anger. Heat. Lust .

But unlike the ceremony, candles form only one circle rather than five. A pool of white silk rests in the middle on the floor. Titus stands behind it.

He’s breathtaking.

Candlelight casts the handsome angles of his face with shadows. His broad shoulders and strong arms fill out a white dress shirt, his hands in the pockets of black slacks.

My bare feet pad across the cool marble. “I feel underdressed.”

His eyes drag down my body, making chills trickle down my arms. “You’re perfect.”

“What is this, Titus?” My voice sounds so quiet in the vast, empty hall.

He meets me as I step into the circle and takes both of my hands. The silk is soft under my bare feet. “The chance to rewrite our story.”

I take in the scene, so hauntingly familiar to the one where our story began.

When I first stepped foot in this hall and saw the candles and masked men, I was terrified. No matter how strong I tried to be, the fear was near crippling. The lack of autonomy only compounded everything. It was a weight I was sure would break me.

Now, I feel none of that fear.

I stand unbroken.

In no small part due to the man in front of me. He coordinated with Penelope and set all this up for me. A brute with a tender heart, one I’m so grateful he’s shared with me.

I’m so touched, I can barely get my words out, emotion choking me. “I don’t want to change our story because it led us here. Is that what you want?”

“I want . . .” His jaw clenches and he swallows tightly, as if unprepared for my question and struggling to find an answer. “ You,” he finally says in a gravelly admission, and the tension between his brows melts away, the simple truth lifting an invisible burden.

“That’s good.” I reach up to cup his face. “Because I’m yours. And not because some ceremony made me so. I’m yours because I want to be.”

My gaze drops from his storm-gray eyes to his mouth. His tongue flicks out to wet his bottom lip, and I have the inexplicable urge to brush my thumb across it. My skin sparks. “ Alpha ,” I breathe.

“ Omega.” The word slips almost silently from his lips.

The air crackles with electricity. I pull his face to mine. My stomach flutters like this is our first kiss. But when our lips finally meet, it’s never been clearer that all our pain and suffering was absolutely worth it for this moment right here.

His fingers spread across my hips, and he tugs me close. My chest flush with his, I fling my arms around his neck, my hands gliding up the back of his head. Kissing him feels like a free fall—breathless, untethered, and on the precipice of great love or great destruction.

I choose the former.

My fingers pluck at his shirt buttons, and he hurriedly untucks the hem from his pants without ever breaking our consuming kiss. I push the open shirt off his shoulders and trail my palms down his chest and abdomen. His fingers dig into my sides as he grinds our hips together.

I slip my hand between our tightly pressed bodies to tug on his belt. He rasps against my lips, “ Sinclair.”

The rough purr of my name makes me melt. Just like he melts when my hand strokes his silken cock in his pants. He sags into my touch, his forehead resting against mine as I lightly stroke him up and down.

I press my lips to his chest and whisper into his heated flesh, “ Please .”

He moans in acquiescence before falling to the floor, taking me with him. He lands in a seated position with me straddling his lap. He pulls his shirt off me in one movement.

His palm flattens against my bare chest while the other clasps the small of my back. He drags his hand down my chest and between my breasts until he can brush his fingertips over my larkspur carving.

His eyes, heavy and soulful, lift from my scars to mine. “I’m going to make you proud to carry our mark.”

“I already am.”

Then our lips are colliding for another heady kiss.

My head swims and my body blooms with heat as I rock against him, his hard cock straining his pants.

“ Please,” I beg again, pulling his belt from the loops. His hands reach between us to undo the front of his pants, and I slide his down his thighs so he can free his cock.

I clutch the side of his face with one hand while the other encircles his thick length. He tugs my panties aside as I slowly lower myself. His tip fills me, and my mouth falls open. He fits me so perfectly.

We fit so perfectly.

“I want your other mark too,” I confess, my body and heart burning, yearning for his.

His hand knits in my hair and tugs my head to the side, baring my neck. His eyes flash up to mine and they sparkle with gold, but he’s not in full rut yet. Which means he’s just as clearheaded as I am as he swipes his tongue in a wide path up my throat.

“You know . . . ,” he whispers in my ear. “You’ll always be mine, whether you wear my bite or not.”

At first, my stomach sinks with disappointment until I realize his words aren’t a rejection, but an option. He’s letting me know that if I don’t want to bond with him right now, it won’t change how he feels about me.

He doesn’t want to take anything more from me, unless I am giving it freely.

I’m sure this is what I want, but even so, I take a moment to feel the certainty in my bones.

“I want everyone else to know too.” The thought of wearing all three of my alphas’ marks excites me beyond measure. I used to hate the idea of belonging to them, and now I can’t imagine anything else.

His face softens. “I love you, you know.”

His confession comes out of left field, but returning it is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.

“I love you too.” With tears in my eyes, I chuckle softly. “Now fucking bite me.”

There seems to be relief in the way my words make him hold me tighter, like he wants to bask in this moment, not cling to it—because he knows I’m not going anywhere—but savor it. My heart skips a beat when his eyes meet mine for one last reassuring look. They flutter close and his hot mouth covers my neck.

I suck in a breath when I feel his teeth graze my skin. He bites me, his teeth sinking into the tight muscle at the same time I sink fully down his length.

He groans when he breaks the skin, and the sound claws at the most primal part of me. My body grows hot and feverish as our bond ignites. Pleasure blossoms in every muscle and my carving feels on fire.

A flood of emotion surges through the bond, lust and desire of course, but even stronger is relief. Relief that he doesn’t have to hide parts of himself anymore, relief that all those terrifying moments when he showed vulnerability were worth it, and relief that our pack is finally cemented together forever.

The claiming tips me over the edge as I feel his cock thicken and throb inside of me. I don’t know how it’s possible to come without any movement, but I do.

“ Fuck, Omega ,” he groans as my pussy clenches uncontrollably around him. “Mine. Mine.” I gasp as he lifts my hips, only to shove me back down on his cock.

He looks up at me, eyes fully gold and my blood dripping from his lip. I don’t fight the desire to taste it, kissing him with a passion only heightened by our new bond.

It’s the most beautiful sensation, his warm body all around me, inside me, and the glowing rush of claiming each other.

I gently ride him, sliding my wet pussy up and down his hard cock. Desire is a twisted, pulsing thing wrapping around us, lassoing us together. Our lips continue to dance as we breathe with one set of lungs, survive off the beat of one heart.

“Alpha . . .” Pressure begins to coil in my core again, light dancing behind my eyelids. “ Oh, Alpha.”

“My name,” he pleads into my skin, his voice tight and rough with pleasure. “Please say my name.”

“ Titus,” I moan, and he curses, arms squeezing me tight.

“My mate,” he says on a husky exhale, thrusting up into me.

“ God , Titus.” I gasp as he strokes a spot inside of me that makes my legs shake.

“Yes, Sinclair, let me feel your pussy beg for my cum.” He repeats the movement, hitting the same angle again until I shatter. “That’s a good fucking omega, milking your mate’s cock— Fuck . . .” He growls, and the sound strums the chords of our bond.

“Titus, Titus,” I chant over and over as my orgasm consumes me.

“You want my knot, Omega?” He groans coarsely, and I mewl. Yes, please . “I’m gonna come in this perfect pussy, fill you up like you’re mine. And then I’m going to knot you because you are really — fucking —mine.” He spills inside, and I feel his release like another orgasm through the bond. I don’t know if my body can contain any more pleasure.

And then he knots me. The thick base of his cock swells, stretching and filling me until it locks in place, and I explode in a shower of light. I exist everywhere and nowhere, tied to nothing but him and our bond.

1. “MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT” by Elley Duhé