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Although, I’ve read he’s the playboy of the bunch. Up close and personal like this,Wolf, as he’s known to his friends and conquests, looks like he was built for sex. Not just sex, but fucking. Hard, hot, multiple-orgasm-inducing fucking.
I know he enjoys working out and that his favorite hobby is horseback riding, but honestly, I wasn’t expecting to feel attracted to him the way I do. Then again, I was attracted to Taiyo as well. Their scents aredefinitelynot helping. Even only allowing myself tiny sips of air, I can’t deny what they are doing to me. Or more accurately, what they are doing to my body.
If I have to stand here much longer, the slick dampening my panties is going to push right through the fabric and start to drip down my thighs. I suck in my stomach as if I can hold it in, knowing it’s useless.
As I hold Wolf’s gaze, he winks at me—bloodywinks—and then he takes a deep inhale against the almost transparent skin of my wrist and instantly drops my hand, his nostrils flaring and something in his jaw clenching.
The veins in his thick neck bulge until I can see the blue tint of them through his skin.
If it were possible, it’s an even worse reaction than Taiyo had. I should never have looked up. I should have kept my head down.Stupid.
I suck in a quiet breath of air, more hurt and offended than I’ve ever been as I move to the last but certainly not the least of the pack. His Royal Highness Prince Kaspian Eaton casts a dark, almost frustrated look at his packmates, his jaw already ticking before he turns his gaze to me.
Don’t look, Maddie.
But…I can’t help it.
Despite the anger simmering in my gut over how the other two reacted, I’m taken aback by how dark and deep the prince’s eyes are in person. I don’t think I’ve ever seen eyes in such a glittering shade of brown. Looking into them is almost like looking up at the sky in the darkest part of the night, except technically, his eyes aren’t supposed to be black. I’ve read they’re brown.But jeez…
Thick black rows and long, pitch-black lashes frame them, a stark contrast to his smooth, pale skin. His hair, as jet-black as his eyebrows, eyelashes, and probably his soul, sits atop his head like no strand would dare shift out of place without his express permission.
On the other hand, I’d be afraid of a face like that myself. I know he’s a prince, but I’ve never seen a more regal-looking person in my entire life—his pictures don’t do him any justice at all.
His cheekbones and jaw are sharper than any real person’s should be. He’s even got a slight dimple in his chin. He’s unfairly handsome, but in a way that’s almost brutal.
It hurts to look at him. The kind of hurt that comes from knowing you can never andwill neverknow that kind of beauty.
In all my reading, I never came across a single mention of a misstep he’s made or a time when he misspoke, and I thought someone had simply buried it all. Looking at him now, though, I don’t think it’s been erased. I think there’s no mention of it because it never happened.
All three of them are Alphas.
Apparently, they presented at around the same time when they were fifteen or sixteen. Rumor has it that they went through their first rut together. I’ve never spent much time around Alphas, my father aside, which is probably why I have the strangest urge to both whine and purr at the same time.
I can do neither. I’ve already embarrassed myself enough.
When Kaspian takes a tiny sniff of my inner wrist, he exhales sharply before turning his head away, his eyes darkening.
Well, fuck.
They didn’t have this strong of an aversion toanyof the other Omegas. At least, not from what I could see on the silently playing monitors out in the hall. This is possibly theworstthing that could’ve happened here.
At least it’s over.
Walking back the way I came is a study in bottled emotion. The knifepoints I walk on have become even more perilous as I take cautious steps across the tightrope of the ballroom.
It’s everything I can do to tune out the whispers of the other royals in attendance and keep myself from crying before I’m out of sight of the cameras, but at least I don’t trip again.
Silver linings.
Tell that to the ocean of slick in your panties.
While I know for a fact that I took my mandatory heat suppressant just before I went into makeup, I haveneverfelt like this before.
Maybe it’s because of my lack of experience with Alphas, but as the ceremony finishes, the effect doesn’t fade. A few more Omegas take their turns to be scented, and the queen rises again, but I can barely pay attention to anything going on around me. The need rising from deep within threatens to engulf me. It’s so bad that I don’t know how I got down from the dais.
I barely remember the walk back. Their scents are stuck to the inside of my nose. Of my lungs. And I can’t seem to shake their images from my mind. The clear discomfort. The revulsion.
The ceremony finishes, but I’m so focused on pressing my legs together to relieve the ache that I don’t know if they were as disgusted by anyone else who came after me. Between the heels and the ache, the walk back to my room is a painful blur. It doesn’t help my mental state that above everything else, I’m ricocheting between need and embarrassment.
