CHAPTER 5: BRANDED MORE

The ceiling is too white when my eyes open.

It blurs, then sharpens again as I blink hard and that notice my throat is dry and my body feels oddly heavy.

A clean, sterile scent fills my nose with the familiar scent of antiseptic from the infirmary.

I try to sit up, but something warm grips my wrist.

"Don't move."

It's Fenric’s voice sounding all possessive and I turn my head to see him sitting beside me with his dark brows pulled hard together like he’s ready to fight.

His other hand clamps around my wrist tightly like he’s afraid I’ll vanish.

“She’s awake,” Orien says from somewhere near the foot of the bed. His voice is lower and, smoother, but sounds just as possessive.

Having seen the two, I turn my neck, searching for Nyall, instinctively wanting to see all three of them, and see him standing stiffly at the far end of the room with his arms crossed over his chest.

His gaze meets mine, but it's so intense that I have to look away.

“Why…” My voice is hoarse so I stop and clear my throat then try again.

“Why are you all here?”

Fenric leans in, brushing a strand of hair from my forehead, “Because you fainted. That damned ceremony turned into a warzone because you’re ours.”

I freeze.

“No,” I whisper, shaking my head. “I—I didn’t —”

“You don’t choose the bond,” Orien says gently cutting in as if he already knew what I was going to say again.

“It all of us.”

Nyall finally moves, although his jaw is clenched hard.

“And we’ll figure it out, but right now, your only job is to rest.”

He's talking but I'm not completely listening to what he's saying.

They’re all so close, so close that the heat from their bodies wraps around me drawing me in.

Something inside me tightens.

A sweet ache that makes no sense starts low in my belly and I remember how they touched me at the ceremonial ring.

'I want them to touch me again', I think before I can stop myself and my eyes widen.

What’s wrong with me?

I pull the blanket up to my chin, trying to disappear into it away from the bad thoughts I'm having.

“I don’t understand any of this,” I whisper, telling them how I feel.

“You don’t have to,” Orien says. “Not right away.”

Fenric then moves to sit on the edge of the bed with his thigh brushing against mine.

“We’re not going anywhere.”

A soft growl vibrates through the room and I realise it's from Nyall.

His eyes move to Fenric. “Get off the bed.”

“Don’t start,” Orien warns, going in between them. “She just woke up.”

“She’s mine,” Fenric says.

“She’s ours,” Nyall corrects.

The growl becomes louder and I sit up fully, feeling my heart begin pounding.

“Stop it! All of you!”

They stop, probably because I'm shouting from the first time, but it's all because I'm confused.

“I can’t think with you three growling over me...,” I rasp. “I need to breathe.”

There's silence for a while but then they surprise me back taking a step back, although reluctantly.

Just then from outside the room, people coming to see their sick loved ones start to gossip to them about what happened at the courtyard.

... And because the infirmary has thin walls with no special substance to dull our wolf hearing as in the Alphas' rooms, I hear everything they discuss

“…never seen a bond like that before…”

“She’s dangerous I tell you. You should have seen it happen.”

“She’s just an Omega, how can she survive it?”

“Or maybe she’s not.”

"What do you mean?"

"Haven't you heard of a Royal Omega? It seems you're the one who needs to stay in this infirmary and not me."

“…Royal Omega? That’s just a myth."

"I don't think it's a myth, it's just that no one’s seen one in more than a hundred years…”

I flinch at the last person's sentence.

Royal Omega; I’ve heard of them before— in the secret stories, older pack members said was whispered by elders around fires.

They say Royal Omegas are rare Omegas born with divine blood, with magic that could beat Alphas or collapse packs, but those were legends.

Weren’t they?

The door to the room I'm in creaks open, and the High Priestess enters.

Her robes trail across the floor as she walks to my bedside, nodding slightly to the triplets, who tense at her like territorial beasts.

“I need a moment with her,” she says.

Nyall’s lip curls into a snarl. “No.”

“She’s under our protection,” Fenric growls.

“I won’t hurt her,” the Priestess says softly. “But I will speak with her. Alone.”

Orien’s eyes move to mine. “Do you want us to go?”

I pause for a second or two, then I nod my head at them.

They too also pause for a while and Fenric growls low under his breath, but finally, they leave the room with heavy reluctant footsteps and the door closes behind them.

The High Priestess go over to sit on the stool beside my bed.

“Do you know what you are?” she asks quietly.

My chest tightens at her words. “I’m an Omega.”

“You’re more than that,” She says and leans in.

“You felt the pull, didn’t you? Not just one mate but three. Do you know what kind of power that bond requires? What kind of blood?”

I say nothing but continue to look at her then she continues.

"Royal Omegas haven’t been born in generations. Most think they were wiped out because they were too powerful and too uncontrollable. That is why the Moon chooses them sparingly.”

I shake my head. “That’s not me. I’m not... I’m no one.”

She studies me. “That’s what makes it so dangerous. The Lord Alpha is already panicking and pack members are whispering. If word spreads and other territories learn a Royal Omega exists—every kingdom will want you.”

“What do I do?” I ask because sincerely I want to know; I'm very confused by all these.

“Stay quiet young one, and stay hidden. Let us figure this out.”

“Us?” I ask carefully.

Why would anyone help an Omega?

She stands up from the small stool “I’ll do what I must to protect the balance of this pack.”

What she said should comfort me but there’s something though in her voice now that makes my skin crawl.

However before I can think too much about it she leaves.