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Alfred makes a scoffing noise and raises his brows. “ ‘Well’ is a subjective term when applied to the brat. I questioned whether she was really riding for pleasure or sent to assassinate us.” Alfred motions over his shoulder, and the small group behind him parts, allowing two warriors to approach with Penelope between them. One has a bloody nose. The other is walking with a limp.
Alfred sighs heavily. “The lass has injured half a dozen men and left as many more with nervous twitches.”
The king surprises me by chuckling. “Losing the omega is also inconvenient, not to mention I now have a dozen disgruntled suitors on my hands. I might need to offer them my daughter in her stead.”
“No!” The princess says in an unladylike screech. “I cannot come back.”
“What?” King Louie demands. “This is not the time for games, Penelope. I know I have failed—”
“We are mated,” she interrupts, waving an imperious hand in the direction of Alfred.
“Eh?” Alfred grunts, looking perplexed by this development.
“He kissed me!”
“The fuck does—” Alfred begins.
“He claimed me!”
Alfred scowls down at the tiny princess, planting his fists on his hips. “It was a heat of the moment thing, and we—”
“I could be with child!”
“We did not go that fucking far, lass!” Alfred states gruffly, folding his arms.
“Enough!” Louie hisses. “If the high king hears of this scandal, Pershore will be invaded by nightfall. You will have to get married.”
“I accept,” Penelope says with fake meekness, peeking at her husband-to-be under her lashes.
Alfred glowers. “Lass, your bottom will be cherry red and sore beyond reckoning by the time I’m done with you.”
“A big lavish wedding,” the king continues. “An alliance between our kingdoms is the only way we can pitch this.” He motions his advisor over. “Draft a notice. Send for the planners!”
“I’m a barbarian,” Alfred says, gesturing toward himself, although no one is paying him much attention. “And an alpha. We do not get fucking married.”
“A small detail.” The king waves a dismissive hand.
“It is not a small fucking detail to me!”
“I don’t mind mating him,” Penelope offers.
“Damn right, you will be mated, and then I’ll show you just how a lass gets with child.”
Penelope’s eyes turn hooded, and she coos with delight.
I bite my lip to hide my smile as Alfred snaps his jaw shut, perhaps realizing he has just been outsmarted by a slip of a girl and a wily enemy king who is about to become his ally.
The king is calling orders. Penelope is sidling up to the glaring giant who will soon be her mate-husband, or whatever they finally agree on, when I become aware of a familiar scent.
Lor.I glance up, breath catching as I stare up into his eyes. Not so long ago, I saw his wolf turn and limp away, gravely wounded and unable to shift. Tears of joy prick the back of my eyes—I feared I might never see him again.
He cups my cheeks and kisses me, a light promise of more that makes my toes curl, and traps my breath in my lungs.
“It is time we sort out this little matter of your unchanged bonding scent,” Aston says ominously.
“Oh?” I say, looking from Lor to Aston and back to Lor, who now wears a stern expression… with a distinctly wolfish edge. “How does one do that?”
“You have not mated all of us,” Lor says.
