Page 142 of Psycho Pack
It's… beautiful.
The fabric looks impossibly delicate, like woven moonlight. Golden embroidery traces patterns across the bodice and sleeves. Birds in flight, flowering vines. A matching beaded veil,adorned with tiny golden and blood-red gems that catch the light like stars, rests beside it.
"The queen requested something special for the omega," one attendant says softly, noticing my stare. "Will you allow us to help you dress?"
I hesitate. The thought of being touched by strangers, of being vulnerable... but these people have been nothing but gentle. And I need to start trusting sometime.
Don't I?
"Okay," I say quietly.
The alphas exchange glances, clearly not wanting to leave me alone. But the attendant gestures to the adjoining room where their own clothes wait.
"We will take good care of her," she assures them.
Wraith comes around the corner, his footfalls loud even on the plush carpet. A low, wary growl rumbles in his chest. Thane is right behind him, his brow furrowed as his dark gaze flicks between the attendants.
"It's safe," Plague says to the other alphas.
Whiskey is the first to relent with a stiff nod. "Alright."
Wraith rumbles again. Thane puts a hand on his shoulder and the rumbling stops as some of the tension eases out of the feral alpha's guarded stance.
"Don't take her far," Thane says pointedly.
"Or there will be hell to pay," Valek adds.
Plague shoots him a look, but one of the attendants just laughs lightly. "Duly noted," she replies, the smile on her painted lips clear even through her veil. She gestures to me to follow her and the others.
I glance back over my shoulder at my alphas, unable to suppress a smile at their concerned expressions. They look like a pack of anxious guard dogs, all barely restraining themselves from following me down the hall.
"I'll see you at dinner," I say softly, hoping to ease some of their worry. "Try not to start any wars while I'm gone."
Whiskey snorts. "No promises, wildcat."
It's strange how, despite everything, I have such fondness for these broken, beautiful men who've somehow become my family. Maybebecauseof everything.
Even Valek, as angry as I am.
All of them.
I turn away before the emotion overwhelms me and pad down the hall after the attendants. The weight of their collective gaze follows me until I round the corner and disappear from sight.
The attendants lead me deeper into the guest wing, through archways draped with gauzy curtains. Everything here feels dreamlike, otherworldly.
"Through here, honored guest," one of the attendants says, gesturing to an ornate door. Her veil shifts as she moves, the tiny golden beads catching the light.
The room beyond is like everything else in this impossible place. It's clearly some kind of dressing chamber. Tall mirrors line the walls, their gilded frames carved with delicate birds in flight. More of those brass lanterns cast a warm glow over everything, and the air smells of jasmine and something sweeter.
"May we?" another attendant asks, gesturing to my robe. Her hands are gentle as she helps me shrug it off, careful not to startle me. Like I'm a wild animal.
And I guess I am.
I force myself to stay still as the betas begin preparing me for the royal dinner, though every instinct screams at me to run. To fight. To not let anyone touch me. But their movements are careful, precise.
Like Plague.
The thought helps somehow.