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Once in the hall, I stopped to ask Pax what the matter might be.
“Another time, vixen.” He kissed my temple and steered me out of the room. Jack caught us up at the stairs, and rested a hand on the back of my neck was the only warning I had before Pax picked me up in his arms.
The sound I made was undignified. But Pax juggled me so that I had to wrap my arm around his neck. “You are in a good mood,” I muttered.
“Did you know that you are adorable,” Pax chuckled. Jack had run ahead of us and was whistling again.
We reached Jack’s room, which seemed odd as the nest was just down the hall.
“Orley procured a special licence for us.” Pax tossed me onto Jack’s bed. “Came to tell us after you snuck off like a thief in the night. The blessing will have to wait, but the marriage does not.”
“Say yes, Trix,” Jack said as he climbed on to the bed next to me. “Say yes and then we can nap.”
“Nap, sounds lovely.” I frowned. “But…”
“Yes,” Pax caged me with his arms. “Please. Do me the honour of becoming my wife.”
I nodded.
“I need to hear you say the words.”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?” His eyes looked so beautiful that I became lost in them for a minute. I pushed a stray strand off his face. “I want to know—away from your heat—you desire to be our wife.”
“Yes Pax, I want to marry you and Jack.”
I stood between my mates, dressed in one of Viola’s hastily altered dresses, and floated on their rich scents in front of my family and friends. Hero stood with her mother. I feared she’d avoid me, instead I’d been lucky enough to receive a tight hug and watery smile..
Had it really only been less than a month since we’d stood in this same temple celebrating Viola and Orley’s union? How much had happened since then?
Now I was bound by all the laws of the land and the Goddess to my mates.
That uncertain happiness, tender like a seedling breaking through to greet the world. I prayed that it was a dandelion, a weed. One that could return stronger and stronger no matter how many times it was trampled. I wanted a hardy love. Nothing delicate in this rough climate. But a weed with deep roots.
From there, we were to travel straight to London.
“A barouche?” I asked, eyeing the large open carriage with not a little disgust and even more surprise.
“It will be too stuffy inside a carriage, and I ain’t taking you to London in a phaeton. Too dangerous even if you were healthy,” Paxton smiled.
“I’m neither an invalid nor an infant.”
“Never thought you were. You are our omega. We’ll treat you as we see fit.” His tone didn’t change, but his eyes glinted with the pleasure of argument. “I am grateful you are well enough to think of shooting me.”
Secure, blankets on my lap, I watched in surprise as they mounted horses rather than join me. A stab of pain that had nothing to do with my wound pierced my heart. I wanted them with me. My omega craved her mates and the protection they provided. Of course, in riding, they provided a different kind of protection—one from highway men. I nearly told them it would not be necessary. We would be traveling through Hippolyta’s hunting grounds. My sister was more like to clear the road for us than permit the road to have rut that might slow our progress to London.
The sun had not begun to set when we clattered to a stop in front of a large posting inn.
“Why?”
“We are stopping for the night.”
“It isn’t… We could make it to London tonight!”
“No,” came two firm replies.
I pursed my lips together so the involuntary smile would not escape. How fickle of my omega. She wanted to coo and preen when they alpha’d me even after they had ridden rather than stayed with us.
