AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I’m going to fall flat on my face.
No, you’re not. You got this.
You fucking got this, Maddie.
“Maddison Darling?”
Okay, apparently I am expected to move.
The Omega in line behind me gives me a little shove. As I wobble from the hall into the ballroom, arms out to steady myself, I see it in its entirety for the first time. My blood runs cold. There are far more people gathered to watch the ceremony than I was expecting. The king and queen watch from their lavish thrones off to the left, and cameras stand everywhere, broadcasting this event far and wide.
Moving more carefully than I ever have before, I make my way toward the steps where the Royal Pack are waiting on a dais. When I finally reach its base, I’m so relieved that naturally, I ruin it, tripping over the edge of the first step and landing on my knees on the next.
Gasps ring out and low giggling ripples across the room, but mostly, there’s just uncomfortable silence. Blood rushes to my cheeks, the heat of them practically radiating as I get up quickly, square my shoulders, and keep going toward the pricks who didn’t move a muscle to come to my aid.
Though I’d be even more mortified if one of them knelt to help me up. It would only draw more attention.
I haven’t looked at them since I’ve been too busy focusing on getting to them without breaking a bone, and now that I’ve made an absolute fool of myself, I still can’t bring myself to lift my eyes.
When I reach the landing, I clench my jaw, breathing fast.
Mary told me that the scenting is usually quick and is sometimes but not always accompanied by a brief touching of hands. If I don’t bring my skin close enough to them, they could take my hand to draw me nearer.
I thrust my wrist out at the first of them, my blood rushing in my ears. I don’t know what to say, so I say nothing, counting the seconds until this is over.
These are not royal alphas who could have you drawn and quartered,I tell myself.
They are just three guys. Three alpha males who—
Holy shit.
Their scents hit me like a sledgehammer to the chest, the force of them going straight to my head, making me dizzy. I’d caught a lick of their scents from out in the hall, but I’d barely breathed for fear of tripping on the long walk up here, and straight up held my breath after Ididin fact trip. But now…
My vision turns hazy and something deep and primal in my lower belly tightens, making my thighs press and my throat go dry.
There’s smooth bourbon and musk. There’s bergamot and cardamom. And woven through the headier scents is one that ties them all together, brightens them, and lightens them. It’s a breath of fresh air inhaled straight from an open meadow. It’s oakmoss and birch and heather and just…clean air.
My lips part on a muted gasp as surprisingly warm, tender fingers wrap around my wrist. Nervous as hell, still embarrassed, and with my pulse absolutely thundering, I lift my gaze to look at whoever is touching me.
I’ve done a bit of reading on this lot since I was selected. Of course, I’d seen the tabloids, but I’d never picked one up. Didn’t know a damn thing about the royals aside from their existence.
I know now that the eyes I find myself looking into belong to Earl Taiyo William Althorpe. Half British, half Japanese. He turned twenty-one last winter, supposedly practices archery, and once famously said that the best thing about living in the palace is the never-ending supply of some expensive type of imported tea.
Now that I’ve made the mistake of looking directly into his eyes—I’m honestly not sure if we’re supposed to—I find myself unable to look away. They’re warm and the most intriguing shade of brown I’ve ever seen, with hints of honey and rust shot through them and a ring of bright copper around the pupil.
The pictures I’ve seen of him didn’t do his sleek jawline justice, nor did they accurately portray how bright his silvery white hair is. It’s shorter at the sides than the top, carefully styled away from his face.
A face which, as he brings my hand to his arrow of a nose, contorts in what I can only assume is disgust. His fingers tighten on my wrist for a moment before he drops it like my skin has burned him. Then his gaze tears away from mine, his throat working as if he’s struggling to swallow the bile that raced into his throat. Like he might choke on it. He grips the arms of his throne-like seat until his knuckles turn white and I rush to the next royal, praying to finish this as quickly as possible.
Hot tears sting my eyes at the first royal’s clear rejection, but I swallow hard and extend my wrist again, ready for another kick square to the chest. Mistress Hartigan was right. I’ll be out of here before dawn.
If it were up to me, I’d have cut and run, but the entire world is watching so I have to continue with this farce. Knowing my father and little brother are watching, I lift my head up high as I extend my wrist to Lord Wolfgang Von Damme.
His gaze isn’t nearly as intense as the earl’s. In fact, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’s amused by his friend and packmate’s reaction. Light dances in his blue-green eyes, and it looks suspiciously like barely restrained laughter. As he takes my wrist in a sure grip and practically yanks my hand to his mouth, a lock of golden hair falls over his forehead, but he doesn’t bother brushing it away.
It’s…strangely endearing and some unconscious part of me wants to brush it away from his forehead just to feel how soft it no doubt is.
Unlike Taiyo’s, Wolfgang’s nose has certainly been broken a time or two if the slight hook in it is anything to go by. But instead of detracting from his shockingly good looks, it strangely makes him even sexier. Rougher. It suits him.
