Omega Embraced: Pack of Princes, #2

By Victoria Kent

Charlie Prince has always gotten what he wants. Now he wants her… so why is courting his fated mate–his true f**king love–proving to be such a challenge?

 

Charlie

Even after Charlie Prince started his own tech company, his pack still thinks of him as a baby alpha. With the multi-million dollar acquisition of his startup, he has more money than he knows what to do with–and even more free time–and Charlie knows something is missing from his life of luxury: someone to share it with him.

When he meets Ella–her eyes finding his across a crowded ballroom, her scent going straight to his… alpha instincts–he knows instantly that she's the one: his fated mate. Ella is beautiful, funny… and totally not convinced by Charlie's old-fashioned notions of true love and destiny: she's a modern woman who dreams of a bagging a Pulitzer Prize, not a Prince Charming. Charlie is a modern man, too… but that doesn't stop the alpha from wanting to make her his, inside and out.

 

Ella

Despite her dreams of becoming a Serious Journalist, omega Ella Booker has somehow landed at her city's glossy magazine, CityStyle, where "current events" means galas and opera openings, and local celebrities, not politicians, fill the interview pages.

When Ella attends a gala in place of her editor, she is surprised to find herself falling for a handsome stranger. Charlie is charming, confident… and the youngest (and richest) of the Prince brothers, infamous not only for their wealth, but for mating their omegas instead of just marrying them, like civilized people. So why is it excitement, and not fear, that makes her heart beat faster every time the alpha's blue eyes meet hers?

After Ella is assigned a story on the Prince brothers' world, she falls back into their orbit–and into Charlie's bed. But is she willing to submit to her alpha–completely–if it means he'll be hers forever?


Omega Embraced is a sweet and steamy standalone romance within the Pack of Princes timeline with a Happily Ever After guaranteed.

 

Author's Note

The Pack of Princes series takes place in a human Omegaverse setting. There are no shifters in this world, but there are alphas, betas, and omegas. Widely available suppressants and scent blockers mean that alphas and omegas can live like betas, and for the most part, they do. People in this universe have largely left behind antiquated beliefs like fated mates and crude practices like claiming marks… unless they're into that kind of thing.

And the Prince brothers? They are.

They hope you are, too.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Victoria Kent
• Release date: Jan 16, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215162224

Book preview

Omega Embraced

A PACK OF PRINCES NOVEL

VICTORIA KENT

Contents

Copyright

Untitled

Author’s Note

From the Pages of CityStyle Magazine

Ella

Charlie

Ella

Charlie

Ella

Charlie

From the Pages of CityStyle Magazine

Ella

Charlie

Ella

Charlie

Ella

Charlie

Ella

Charlie

From the Pages of the Clarion

Ella

Charlie

Ella

Charlie

From the Pages of the Clarion

Ella

Charlie

Ella

From the Pages of the Clarion

Charlie

Ella

Charlie

From the Pages of CityStyle Magazine

Ella

Charlie

Ella

Charlie

Ella

Charlie

Ella

Charlie

Ella

Charlie

Ella

Charlie

From the Pages of CityStyle Magazine

Ella

Charlie

Ella

Epilogue

Ella

Charlie

From the Pages of CityStyle Magazine

Also by Victoria Kent

About the Author

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2022 by Victoria Kent.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. For more information, address: [e-mail].

FOR A FREE, STEAMY PACK OF PRINCES BONUS SHORT STORY AND INFORMATION ABOUT UPCOMING BOOKS, JOIN THE VICTORIA KENT NEWSLETTER: BIT.LY/VICTORIAKENTAUTHOR

Author’s Note

The Pack of Princes series takes place in a human Omegaverse setting. There are no shifters in this world, but there are alphas, betas, and omegas. Widely available suppressants and scent blockers mean that alphas and omegas can live like betas, and for the most part, they do. People in this universe have largely left behind antiquated beliefs and crude practices like fated mates and claiming marks… unless they’re into that kind of thing.

And the Prince brothers? They are.

They hope you are, too.

From the Pages of CityStyle Magazine

Omegas in Tech Gala, November 18. This exclusive, invite-only event launches a new national non-profit, headed by omega Natalie Marke, former CTO of SPARQ. Rumor is it’s funded by a young prince–could an engagement be ahead for Ms. Marke and a certain alpha charmer known for his recent top-dollar acquisition?

CITYSTYLE MAGAZINE, UPCOMING EVENTS, PAGE 12

Ella

Friday afternoon at the office was a restless kind of hopeful.

I could tell by the energy of the place–and the distinct lack of keyboard clicking–that we were all sitting at our desks, counting down the minutes until five, hoping that there wouldn’t be any breaking news before it would be acceptable for us to start trickling out. Not that it was likely: the CityStyle was a local magazine producing hard-hitting investigative journalism such as The City’s Hidden Gems for Galentine’s Brunch and Family Fun at the Plaza. Hardly what I had thought I was dedicating myself to when I graduated with a shiny new degree in journalism, but I was thankful to have a job in my field, even if I was writing puff pieces and society gossip.

It was with a mixture of excitement and annoyance (along with the ever present fear of losing my job), therefore, that I heard my name being called from lead editor Stevens’s office at 4:58.

Booker!

My head snapped to attention, my eyes, which had been half-lidded as I scrolled mindlessly, widened. I looked up across the workspaces of my colleagues, towards the editor’s half-open door.

Yes, ma’am?

Get in here for a minute.

I am going to lose my job. The irrational thought made my heart rate spike and my legs weak before I even had a second to talk myself out of it. I am doing fine, I reminded myself. I am a competent reporter; this is just imposter syndrome talking. I just have imposter syndrome, like every other twenty-three year old with her first job. This is just how I have been socialized. It’s not me, it’s the patriarchy. My pep talk was maybe a little over the top, but it did the trick as I walked between the aisles of desks, no one making eye contact, and stood before the editor’s door, taking a deep, calming breath. She waved me in, and I closed the door behind me with a soft click.

I can’t make it to the gala tonight, my editor barked. There was an event tonight for a new non-profit; I knew because I had put it on the Upcoming Events Calendar in last month’s edition. Family emergency. I nodded. The lead editor had a husband and three school-age kids at home–she had told me when I started at the office, informing me in her gruff way that just because I was an omega, she wouldn’t expect less of me. After all, she had huffed, "I’m an omega too, married with children, and you don’t see me leaving early." I had taken it as her awkward way of encouraging me: work hard and earn everyone’s respect. We won’t let you off easy, but we won’t expect less of you, either. It was the most I could hope for, I guessed.

Did you want me to send an R.S.V.P? I asked.

I want you to go, she responded, with her typical bluntness. Tickets are expensive; I don’t want to waste it. Have fun. She passed me a thick white envelope, slightly crinkled, as if it had been shoved into a cluttered briefcase. This was almost certainly the case. My editor was dedicated to her job, and great at it–but her messy desk was notorious around the office. I looked, bewildered, at the envelope, which bore the name Lara Stevens in elegant script, the hand calligraphy smooth over velvety paper.

You want me to go to the gala? Tonight? But… I had been planning a fun evening of doomscrolling, a bubble bath, and maybe a glass of wine.

She raised an eyebrow. What, you have a date? I shook my head. I never had dates. Good, then you’ll go.

I don’t have anything to wear.

Oh. She looked around, shuffling the multitude of papers on her desk and pulling out desk drawers before finding the object of her search tossed over a chair in the corner of her office. Here. A dry-cleaner bag was unceremoniously dumped into my arms. I was going to wear this. In the bag was a slinky, sapphire blue dress. I had a hard time picturing the editor wearing anything like it. It should fit you fine.

What? I couldn’t– I fumbled as the fluid, silk fabric and slippery bag nearly spilled out of my arms.

It’s rented, so don’t mess it up. Just get it back to me–dry cleaned, okay?--sometime next week. Oh, and like I said, she rose from her chair, haphazardly shoving her belongings into her nondescript black leather briefcase, before escorting me smoothly from her office, have fun.

I stared after her back as she retreated down the hallway to the elevators.

My bubble bath would have to wait. I was going to a gala.

My sister Anna’s apartment was closer to center city than mine, so after a quick flurry of texts and a short walk, I found myself standing at the entrance of her apartment, my knock interrupting the cheerful, hectic sounds of family life audible through the door.

Ella, you know you don’t have to knock, just come on in. Anna answered the door, ushering me inside.

I know…

Jessie! Her voice cut through my excuses. I was left standing in the hallway as she hurried off in the direction of the kitchen. Sit your butt down right now! What have I said about standing on the chair!

I continued down the hallway, following the noise. Anna’s youngest was standing on the kitchen chair, her whole body wiggling in excitement as she stole a strawberry off the momentarily unattended plate of her older brother. She earned a hey! and a swat from him when he realized what had happened. Anna lifted Jessie up, depositing her down on her bottom, then moved quickly into the kitchen.

I’ll get you some more strawberries, both of you, just please stay seated. Say hello to Aunt Ella! Without waiting for the children to speak, she continued, her voice floating out from the kitchen. Ella, you can change in my room, and if you want to leave your stuff here and pick it up tomorrow, you can. Or stay the night–no, wait, that won’t work, we leave for a swim meet early tomorrow and won’t be back until late… But you could pick it up Monday morning, or Tuesday after 2:00–

Thanks, Anna, but it’s alright. I escaped into the relative quiet of the bedroom with my dress, pulling off my work clothes and shoving them into my bag. I loved my sister–my stepsister, really–but I didn’t really fit into her life. After my dad died, my link with Anna was an uncomfortable one. She had her husband, her kids, her mom, and while I was always invited to family gatherings–Christmas, birthday parties, her wedding–I wasn’t a real part of the family. It was her family, not mine. We were friends, but not best friends, in the way I often heard sisters described: we didn’t have that intimate bond. It didn’t help that she was a decade older than me, married with school-age children, and settled in a way that I wasn’t. In a way that, if I was perfectly honest with myself, made a green tendril of jealousy twine into my heart, squeezing and squeezing until I had to pull away from her, or risk lashing out. We weren’t close, and I knew it was my fault: she had always been there when I needed her, like tonight. Even if her kids and husband took up most of her attention. Her love.

I slipped the plastic dry cleaner bag off of my borrowed dress, marveling again at the fluidity of the fabric. I checked the tag, and–oh. It was silk, and I recognized the designer: one I would never, ever be able to afford, even if I did a thousand freelance articles on the side. Handling it with care, I pulled it over my shoulders, feeling the smooth material settle against my body. Anna’s mirror was above her dresser, and was decorated with printed photos of her and her kids and her husband. I could only see my top half, but… it fit perfectly. I had been expecting it to be too big–my boss’s boxy blazers and pleated slacks didn’t suggest a svelte figure–but the fabric draped over my body like a caress. The cut was conservative, but the color was striking: almost the exact shade of my eyes. There was nothing to be done about my hair and makeup; I pulled a hair tie from my bag and pulled my blonde locks into a high bun, hoping it looked cool and chic and not librarianish. I pinched my cheeks to give them some color, leaning in towards the mirror, and a picture I hadn’t noticed before fluttered in the slight gust of air I created as I bent closer. My stepmom, and… Dad. Even after five years, I still hadn’t gotten used to the gut punch that was seeing his face unexpectedly. My chest never failed to constrict painfully, my eyes sting. I took a deep breath, calming myself. Red, puffy eyes wouldn’t help my already iffy no-makeup look.

How are you doing in there, Ella? Anna asked, nudging the door open. I saw the moment when her eyes lit up. Oh my god, you look gorgeous!

Her expression was warm, looking at me for a moment as I stood half-dressed in her bedroom. My step-sister did love me–I had needed the reminder more than I realized.

A crash came from the direction of the kitchen and the moment was lost. Anna rolled her eyes and moved towards it as if drawn by a magnet; but looked over her shoulder at me. I have a pair of silver heels in the closet. I haven’t worn them in years, but they would be perfect with that color.

I retrieved the heels–she was right. They were nothing extravagant, just plain, stiletto-heeled shoes, and a few years out of style, but they fit me, and the silvery leather peeked out from beneath the hem of the ocean blue silk as I walked like tiny fish darting in the water. Collecting my belongings, I made my way back into the living room, where Anna and the kids were now cleaning up a huge mess of building blocks.

They’re perfect, Anna, I told her, pulling up the hem of the gown to show her. Thank you.

I’m just glad someone is wearing them. I haven’t had a reason recently… She smiled up at me from the pile of toys. Have a great time at the party, and seriously, Ella, come over anytime.

I smiled back at my sister, but she had already turned back towards her children and their happy mess.

Charlie

You remembered your notes, right?

I remembered my notes, yes. God fucking damn it. If Jack didn’t stop nagging me, I would… I didn’t know what. I had enough to think about without worrying about how I would get away with the murder of eldest brother. Just a life update for you, Jack, I also know how to tie my own shoes.

He scowled at me, his jaw set as if he wanted to say something like I don’t like that tone of voice, young man, but was worried about sounding too much like an old woman. Well, you blew by that milestone years ago, so you may as well go ahead and say it, I thought, knowing my face likely had an identical scowl. I knew we looked alike, all four of us brothers. Like someone copy-pasted our father.

If only Jack wasn’t still trying to be my mother. I was 25 years old, after all: an adult. I had graduated from college. I had gotten a masters degree. I had started a business, and sold it. And still:

Just checking. Doors open in 5 minutes, I don’t want you to be scrambling at the last minute, trying to find it. It’s in your pocket?

My hand betrayed me, patting my breast pocket like I wasn’t sure. Like I hadn’t already checked for my notes a hundred times. Yes, I have it, I said, trying to keep the growl out of my voice. That was the last thing I needed to do: blow up like a baby alpha who can’t contain himself, and in front of Jack, master of self-control. I took a deep breath, steadying myself. I returned to the mantra I repeated a thousand times a day: Jack loves you. Don’t kill him. Jack loves you. Don’t kill him. When I was sure my voice would be calm, I opened my mouth again. Thank you, Jack. He smiled distractedly, half at me, half at the waiter passing by with a tray of canapes. Seriously, I said, and my tone made his focus snap to me. I appreciate everything you’ve done getting ready for this.

I know it’s important to you, he said, in that warm, confident voice of his, the one that reminded me so much of our dad. He clapped me on the shoulder. I’m proud of you.

I blinked away the tears that threatened, wondering where they sprang from–I wasn’t usually a crier. I forced a broad smile onto my face instead. I knew it was useless; even if he hadn’t known me since birth, even if he hadn’t practically raised me, I knew he could scent what I was feeling in that moment, my emotions bubbling up until my skin practically radiated with excitement and anxiety and grief and love. I did it anyway, and said, my voice admirably jovial-sounding, Let’s get this thing started.

I paced myself with the champagne by shaking hands. I hated doing it–hated the feel of all those stranger’s hands touching mine, hated