Omega's Wedding: A Royal Alphas M/M Erom Novella (Royal Alphas Mpreg Romance Book 3)

by Kaia Pierce

  “Thank god for you, Lucas,” Anastasia said, reaching for his hand. “The last time I saw it was when I dropped it off with the seamstress, but she sent it off to Rockport to fix some of the custom beadwork. That’s where we lost track of it.”

  “What’s the bead place called? Maybe I can head over there tomorrow,” Lucas said.

  “Oh, I have no idea,” Anastasia said dismissively. “But there’s probably only one beadwork artisan in the entire town. Rockport is quite small.”

  We finally resumed our meal, and the conversation around the table flowed effortlessly between various, polite topics: the state of human politics, Johnny and Charlotte’s milestones, whether the subjects in our respective kingdoms preferred coffee or tea.

  “What are shifter wedding ceremonies like here in the Northern Kingdom?” Lucas asked during a lull in conversation.

  “Very straightforward. Very predictable. That’s why Damon and I are doing a traditional human ceremony,” Alex said with a wink.

  “Why did we decide not to do a shifter wedding again?” I said before the thought had even formed in my head. It was as if the words were put into my mouth by the Wolf Mother herself.

  “Obvious, isn’t it?” Alex sputtered. “Shifter weddings are boring.”

  “But there are no seating charts in a shifter wedding,” I pointed out.

  “Because shifter weddings are always outdoors,” Anastasia said, clearly catching on.

  I felt a slow grin of relief seeping across my face. Excitedly, I turned to Alex and grabbed his hand under the table.

  “Instead of the grand ballroom, let’s hold our wedding outside.”

  After I explained my brilliant plan to our table, I noticed Alex turning away as King Henry tapped him on his shoulder. If I wasn’t a shifter, I probably wouldn’t have heard the words he whispered in my fiancés ear.

  “I need to talk to you after dinner.”

  Chapter 5: A Meeting of Kings

  King Alexander led King Henry into the reading room. Although the room was filled with books, maps, and cozy chairs, all perfect for reading, Alex’s preferred activity in the reading room was to drink.

  “Bourbon?” Alex asked.

  Henry sank into a high-backed chair. “Yes, please.”

  Alex opened the liquor cabinet and poured two generous glasses from a crystal decanter.

  “So, Richard Godefroy,” Henry began.

  Alex handed Henry his drink and sat in the chair directly across from his. “What about him?” he asked, crossing his legs.

  “He showed up in my kingdom. He was tracking an individual named Andrew Yates and investigating an organization called the Shadow Society. I need to know how much of his story is true.” Henry set his glass on the side table and folded his hands. “My brother followed Richard to join him on his mission.”

  “Well, to start off...Andrew Yates is my best friend,” Alex began. “The Shadow Society discovered that he was the bastard son of the late Southern king and…and I’m just worried about him. So I sent my best advisor, Richard, on his trail.” He suddenly cut himself off and became strangely fascinated by the picture window to his left, which showed nothing but the shadowy hedge growing outside. “They want to make him king, you know.”

  When Henry didn’t respond, Alex finally looked away from the window.

  “You look like you have something to say,” Alex said.

  Henry appeared to be staring at his right knee. “The Shadow Society is a bigger threat than you think.”

  “What do you mean?” Alex said, setting down his drink.

  At the same time, Henry picked his up and swirled the bourbon around the glass. He seemed to want to take a drink, but thought better of it. Grim-faced, he placed the glass back on the side table.

  “When Richard came to my kingdom, we learned that the Shadow Society’s goal isn’t just getting Andrew on the throne. They’re trying to infiltrate all three shifter kingdoms by recruiting followers to their cult. They worship a figure called the Father of Light,” Henry said.

  “My god. That’s...blasphemous!” Alex sputtered. “But Andrew only joined them so they’d help him win the throne. I guarantee he doesn’t buy into that—”

  Henry raised a hand. “It doesn’t matter. Andrew will be indebted to whoever gets him on the throne. And whoever has influence over Andrew has control of the entire Southern Kingdom...for a start.”

  Alex blinked quickly as he put two and two together. “And meanwhile, they’ve been recruiting in other kingdoms.” A look of horrified realization unfolded across his paling face.

  Henry leaned forward. “Exactly. They came to my kingdom to open these spiritual wellness centers for shifters called the Sunset House. You need to make sure there are none taking root here in the North.”

  Alex whipped out his phone and scheduled himself a quick reminder. “Merciful gods. I can’t believe Andrew is mixed up in all this. I can’t believe he got you mixed up in all this, too. Did you say your brother is working with Richard now?”

  “Yes. Last I heard, they were in Vegas.”

  “Vegas,” Alex echoed absently. Then, the words hit him. His head whipped up. “They’re in the West?”

  “You know they have no kings over there. If the Shadow Society gains followers where we have no influence, and they gain control over the Southern Kingdom, we’d have nowhere to run. Remember what happened to King One-Eye the Barbaric.”

  “King One-Eye was unseated when his pack lost faith in him and put it all on my great-great-grandpa George. Is that what you’re getting at?” Alex said.

  “It’s precisely what I’m getting at, only we might be the ones who get unseated. Think about the future of the realm. We can’t let them infiltrate the West.”

  Alex cursed, furiously typing another reminder into his phone. Henry looked on, stone-faced but sympathetic. Alex was a much a much younger, much more inexperienced ruler, the responsibility thrust upon him when his father was unexpectedly murdered. The Shadow Society had been responsible for that, too.

  “Russell is supposed to video-call me in a few days. You should probably sit in on the call,” Henry said.

  “Absolutely,” Alex said without missing a beat. After putting his phone into his back pocket, he chugged the rest of his drink. “More bourbon?”

  Promptly, Henry chugged his own drink and held out the empty glass. “If it pleases your Majesty.”

  Alex snorted. He rose and walked back to the liquor cabinet, both glasses in hand.

  “So, did Prince Brendan ever confirm his attendance for the wedding?” Henry asked in a purposefully casual tone.

  Alex chuckled sarcastically. “Neither Prince Brendan nor Lord Sampson are coming. They’re sending a family representative instead.”

  “They would, wouldn’t they? For diplomacy’s sake,” Henry said.

  “Diplomacy. Is that what they call it in the South?” Alex said.

  Henry shook his head helplessly. “To the health of our kingdoms,” he said glumly, raising his glass once Alex handed it off to him.

  “May the Wolf Mother help us all,” Alex said.

  Chapter 6: Lucas

  “Are you only doing this so Damon will like you?”

  It wasn’t Henry’s question, but his tone, that finally made me pause in the middle of getting dressed.

  “Kind of,” I admitted, turning to face Henry with my shirt half-buttoned. “But I have nothing else to do, anyway. I feel useless being the only human here.”

  Henry was lounging on his side, one leg bent up as he regarded me. His hair was still slightly mussed from waking up.

  “Real friendship isn’t based on favors, Lucas,” he said.

  “But real friends also do favors for each other, don’t they?” I said. “Besides, you’re supposed to be friends with your boyfriend’s friends’ boyfriends.”

  “I can barely understand what you’re saying anymore,” Henry said, sitting up with an amused smile.

  “That’s be
cause you need to get your hearing checked, old man,” I shot back.

  With a growl, Henry leapt up to his feet. Wearing nothing but his boxers, his body was a lot to take in. Every inch of Henry was tan, firm, and strong, rippling with the power of the alpha wolf he held inside. He grabbed my chin, forcing me to step closer until my bare chest brushed against his.

  He playfully nipped at my bottom lip, making me whimper.

  “I can hear just fine, thank you,” he murmured as his fingers drifted down over my stomach. He held my gaze and groaned when he felt how hard I was already.

  I pulled away, biting my lip with regret. “The wedding’s tonight,” I said. “I should get going.”

  “Of course,” Henry said, blinking as if shaking himself out of a daze. “What’s your plan?”

  “Head into Rockport,” I said as I resumed buttoning my shirt.

  “And?” Henry said.

  “And look for any businesses that do custom beadwork.”

  Henry raised his eyebrows skeptically. I rolled my eyes.

  “Rockport is a small town,” I said confidently. “I’ll find Princess Anastasia’s dress in no time.”

  * * *

  Unfortunately, finding Princess Anastasia’s dress wasn’t as easy as I thought.

  My day began with a drive into town in the backseat of the Thornriel’s many towncars, driven by the same driver who had picked us up from the airport yesterday.

  Jules steered with two gloved hands on the wheel as the defroster blasted at the crystals clinging to the windshield, not saying a word. A morning talk show played over the speakers with the volume turned low.

  Rockport came into view after just twenty minutes.

  It was a quaint, Norman Rockwellesque town, the type with lampposts, front porches, and strangers saying hi to each other. Jules took us right down Main Street. It seemed like businesses were just beginning to open for the day.

  “Just half a block further,” I said, gripping my phone against my knee. With a little help from Google, I’d deduced that there was only one location within a hundred square miles that had any business dealing with custom beadwork.

  When the car stopped in front of Betsy’s Alterations, I stepped out onto the sidewalk and asked Jules to wait for me.

  Betsy’s Alterations was open for business. I paused in front of the window to get a closer look at a wedding dress and a marching band uniform displayed behind the glass. Both were out of style by at least two decades, but the work was good.

  Notably, the wedding dress had some flashy, silvery beadwork across the front of the bodice.

  Bingo, I thought, swinging open the door to walk inside.

  The first thing that greeted me was a small reception and sitting area. The rest of the shop was the workroom, with two sewing machines, clothing racks, and a few other gadgets I didn’t recognize.

  “Can I help you?” a voice called from the back of the shop.

  A woman’s head popped out from behind a rack of choir robes. Everything about her was narrow and thin, from her nimble fingers to her slim nose to the thin, gray braid hanging over her right shoulder.

  I slipped off my gloves and waved. “Hi. I’m Lucas. Are you Betsy?”

  “Maybe. Why are you asking?” she said suspiciously.

  Taken by surprise, the first thing I blurted out was, “I’m here about Princess Anastasia’s dress.”

  Betsy plucked a pair of glasses from the top of her head and put them back on her face. “Princess who? Is that the one from England?”

  I froze behind the reception desk. With a start, I realized that Betsy wasn’t a shifter.

  She was human.

  Damn. She has no idea who Princess Anastasia is.

  If I was a shifter, or if I had Henry here with me, I would’ve known right away.

  Betsy began walking towards me, her brow cinched with suspicion. “What is it we can help you with, exactly?”

  I shook myself out of my daze and peeled off my gloves as I tried to remember all the details Princess Anastasia had told me. “I’m looking for my client’s dress. It was a red evening gown with beaded...uh…”

  Betsy finally stopped on the other side of the desk, close enough to see the lines of worry in her expression. “Butterflies?” she said.

  “You know what I’m talking about then,” I said. “I just need that dress back. Today. Right now.”

  Betsy’s mouth moved without sound, and her face flushed. In that moment, I knew she was hiding something.

  I decided to follow my hunch.

  “You have to tell me what you know,” I said firmly, “or else I’ll be forced to call the police and report you for theft.”

  Betsy’s pale eyes widened behind her plastic-framed glasses. Her thin lips parted, issuing a dry, rasping squeak. She reached up and began clawing at her neck, as if invisible ropes were tightening around her throat.

  My confidence swiftly dissolved. “B-Betsy, you okay?” I stammered.

  “I have no idea where the dress is,” Betsy blurted out before collapsing across the top of the reception desk, gasping, like she’d just been released from a chokehold.

  “Betsy,” I tried again. But before I could ask what the hell was going on, Betsy pressed a finger to her lips, pulled a pen out of her apron pocket, and scribbled some words onto the back of an advertising flier.

  “You have to go,” she said as she handed it to me.

  I was barely aware of myself holding it between my fingers, I was so confused. “What—”

  “Go. Leave,” Betsy said, worrying her hands in my direction until I was forced to make my way to the exit.

  Apparently remembering her manners, Betsy added a curt, “Have yourself a nice day, now,” before practically shoving me out the door and slamming it in my face. With one final look of fear through the glass door, she flipped the “open” sign to “closed,” and retreated back behind the diaphanous racks of clothes.

  It wasn’t until I got back into the car that I remembered her hastily scribbled note. After smoothing it against my knee, I read over it once. Then, I had to read it again.

  Am under spell.

  Can’t talk.

  Go see Selene—

  An address followed, and it was right here in Rockport.

  Chapter 7: Damon

  “I hope you’re not pregnant,” Anastasia remarked after I came back from the bathroom.

  “That’s impossible. You need to have sex to be pregnant,” I said glumly, collapsing back into the chair I’d vacated just moments earlier. “It’s just wedding nerves.”

  “Have you even eaten today? You should have one of these tea cakes,” Anastasia said from across the table. She gestured to the spread between us.

  The breakfast room was quiet, and it was filled with the milky light of a wintry afternoon. A bay window offered a view down the gently sloping hill to where several groundskeepers were making preparations for an outdoor shifter’s wedding. The view was why I’d picked this room as the place where Anastasia and I could hammer out a brand-new wedding day itinerary.

  The tea had been Anastasia’s idea.

  I placed a sandwich point on my plate. “So what’s first on the agenda?”

  Anastasia consulted her laptop. A pen was stuck behind her right ear. With her auburn hair parted and clipped to one side, she was the perfect vision of Queen Sophia.

  “We need a way to occupy the guests after the hunt,” Anastasia reported. “I propose a fireside cocktail reception.”

  “Good idea. Let’s put a pin in that. What next?”

  “We need to recruit some friends to keep Lady Dorset and Lady Buchanan as far away from each other as possible. I’ve already gotten Melanie Dowd to agree to do it,” Anastasia said.

  I swallowed a tiny bit of tea. “And I’m sure I can get Lord Douglas to keep Buchanan occupied. Next?”

  Anastasia straightened up in her seat and paused. By the way her lips were set, I could tell she was grinding her teeth, which meant s
he was irritated.

  “Neither Lord Sampson nor Prince Brendan are coming to the wedding. So we need to decide if Princess Opaline should be officially recognized as a royal,” she said, nose wrinkling in clear disgust.

  “Princess Opaline?” I said faintly before I suddenly realized. “Wait. You can’t mean Lady Opaline—”

  “Yes. The very same,” Anastasia said.

  “But she’s Lord Sampson’s sister. That doesn’t make her a princess.”

  “Well, tell that to the entire Southern Kingdom, I guess. She has an official seal and everything,” Anastasia said.

  “Oh, this is ridiculous,” I snapped. I set my teacup clattering in the china saucer. “I’m not a royal yet. I’ll just let Alex handle it.”

  Anastasia clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “As Alex’s co-ruler, you need to get used to making decisions. You might as well start now.”

  “Fine. We will address her as Princess Opaline, but she’s not getting a royal reception,” I said.

  Anastasia’s nails clicked on the keyboard as she updated her notes on the laptop. “That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

  I chewed and swallowed my sandwich furiously, ignoring her last statement. “This Southern Kingdom business is really getting on my nerves. I almost want them to make Andrew legitimate and be done with it once and for all.”

  “Or the Shadow Society could just force them to legitimize Andrew,” Anastasia said, “but that would only cause more drama, wouldn’t it?”

  “But you love drama,” I pointed out.

  “Not if it puts my kingdom in danger. Our kingdom now, Prince Damon.”

  “Hey, I’m not married yet,” I grumbled.

  Chapter 8: Lucas

  The address led me to a nondescript duplex on a quiet residential street. The windows were dark and shuttered, so I didn’t expect anyone to answer the door when I knocked.

  A slim-faced woman answered, dark eyes peering out from under a blunt layer of fringe. Her expression remained neutral, and she didn’t say a word.