Alpha Enchanted: Pack of Princes, #0.5

By Victoria Kent

What they said about omegas... I knew in that instant it was all true.

 

Madeleine Dupré never put much thought into her father's collection of dusty old books… until he calls on her to deliver a rare, old volume of fairy tales to an American buyer. The omega heiress expects the trip to be a momentary detour in her carefree life of luxury, but the alpha book dealer is nothing like the tweedy old man she imagined: handsome, charming, and… her destined mate.

 

John Prince would do anything to save his floundering rare book business. When a contact abroad offers to sell him the centuries-old book of fairy tales a wealthy client needs for his collection, John knows this is a chance of a lifetime–even before he realizes the courier is his fated mate. Destiny itself has delivered the beautiful, seductive omega to him… how could he resist?

 

An instant spark grows to a passionate flame, but when they learn it wasn't fate that orchestrated their burning romance, will the fire consume their kindling relationship–and the priceless book that brought them together?

 

Alpha Enchanted is a sweet and steamy standalone novella with a Happily Ever After guaranteed. It is a prequel to the Pack of Princes series.

 

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.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Victoria Kent
• Release date: Jan 16, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215165485

Book preview

Alpha Enchanted

Alpha Enchanted

A PACK OF PRINCES NOVELLA

VICTORIA KENT

Contents

Copyright

Author’s Note

John

Madeleine

John

Madeleine

John

Madeleine

John

Madeleine

John

Madeleine

John

Madeleine

John

Madeleine

John

Madeleine

John

Madeleine

John

Madeleine

John

Madeleine

John

Madeleine

John

Madeleine

John

Madeleine

Epilogue

John

Madeleine

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.

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.

John

Thirty days.

I had thirty days. Thirty days to get my life together, get my business off the ground and my father off my back. Thirty days to find it.

I knew I should be thankful: after all, not everyone had a father who was willing to float even one year of their child’s passion project, and mine had been. He had gotten me an office at the decrepit old Smythe building downtown, had given me his rolodex of contacts and wished me all the best… for one year. One year of rent, one year for me to get Prince Rare Books up and running, and if at the end of that year I wasn’t pulling my own weight, able to stand on my own two feet, and whatever other cliche metaphors he found fitting, then I would leave it behind and find a real job.

That was the deal.

As I flipped over the calendar I had pinned to the wall of my shabby office, staring at the rows of neat numbers, I was left wondering if this had been his plan all along: to grind me down slowly, day by day, so that by the end of the year I was happy to start a stultifying office job, thankful for the regularity of a nine-to-five and a weekly paycheck. As it was, I was in my office, flipping over the calendar right at midnight. And on a Sunday night, too. I needed to be awake for three more hours, I thought to myself, then I could sleep in. It wasn’t like I would be busy on a Monday morning.

Who was I kidding? I was never busy.

I had opened Prince Rare Books eleven months ago, with a rented office and a borrowed rolodex, setting up shop as a rare book dealer. I had always been interested in history, and reading, and books, and after my history degree at Collingswood University, had thought it would be interesting to go into business dealing in the same. Of course–and my father would have known, must have known all along–not everyone had the same passionate love of dusty old manuscripts as I did. Business was decidedly slow. I didn’t have a storefront, meeting with clients by appointment only. I was the middleman, the contact, helping find obscure items for the clients who collected them. Once, I had suspected I was the fence, but I tried not to think about that much. I had learned my lesson (provenance, provenance, provenance) and moved on.

I had, though, managed to get my hands on a few specialty items during my short time as a specialty book dealer: an eighteenth century novel or two, a few unpublished manuscripts from authors of some note. An early (although not first) edition of a fascinating memoir, in which the anonymous author recalls time spent with alleged shifters in Central Europe.

It was that last one that had me staying up until two in the morning, waiting on a call from Paris.

I didn’t know the client who had purchased the memoir, or what their interest in it was, but I knew that he–or she, I supposed–had paid a large sum, and that they had another item on their list of most wanted: a very rare, and very expensive, collection of old french fairy tales. Les Histoires des Loups. I hadn’t read it, obviously, hadn’t even seen a picture of the thing, but everyone was familiar with the stories it contained, of princesses, of deep, dark woods, of men transformed into devouring monsters, of heartsick wolves becoming sweet, gentle knights with a single kiss.

It had been nearly impossible to find… but somehow, I had done it. A friend of a friend of a contact of a buyer, and suddenly, I was staying up until two, heart racing at the thought. This sale–if I could pull it off–would be enough to pay several months of rent, would give me a little more time. More importantly, it would be enough to make my name as a dealer. I would forever after be known as Prince Rare Books, you know, the shop that found Les Histoires.

Whoever my mysterious client was, they obviously had an interest in wolves, in shifters, our human past.

Now, of course, our designations were less relevant to our lives: alphas and omegas were, generally, expected to control their more overt biological differences with suppressants and scent blockers, and no one lived in packs any more, hadn’t for generations, at least not here in America. Was the collector an alpha, trying to claw back some perceived loss in power by collecting books about when alphas had ruled over packs by iron fist and sexual conquest? An omega, curious about a long-lost past in which their kind were coveted, exalted, and simultaneously debased? Maybe they were a beta… although that seemed to me unlikely.

The ringing phone shook me from my reverie.

By the time I had hung up, I knew: this was it.

The contact of a friend