Текст книги "The Alpha of Bleake Isle"

Автор книги: Kathryn Moon

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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 24 страниц)

Back and forth Ronson went, soothing and sucking and coiling the rope in me tighter on one breast, bruising and plucking and gripping the other until it grew to be too much. I bucked against the hand holding me down, unconcerned with the dig of his fingers in my soft belly or the shameless snarl that slipped from my lips when he wouldn't let me budge.

"You're going to be fun during the rut," he rasped. "What a gift you are, omega."

Omega.

Not Mouse.

Not Mairwen.

A wonderful, precious creature who was just right. Who built perfect nests and had breasts to covet, in lovely shades of pink. Who tasted sweet and⁠—

"Do you know how badly I want to feel your pussy, Mairwen? To stroke and pet you? To feel you fluttering on my fingers, slicking my palm? But I won't. Not till you come. I said I would make you gush like this, and I'm not in the habit of breaking my vows."

"Ronson, I⁠—"

I was close, and I was somewhere entirely new, some wild, savage place, some greater height than I'd climbed on my own.

I have no wings, I wanted to cry, but Ronson's tongue circled my nipple, and I lost words to a simple shout of praise.

"Beautiful. You're so beautiful."

My face was hot and my body was quaking, and there were salty tears slipping from the corner of my eyes, but Ronson was laving and kissing at my breast, pulling sweetly in a steady rhythm on the other, and he must've been speaking about some other part of me, some part I'd never seen before.

"The taste of you—please, omega, I need to touch—" His mouth enclosed my tender tip and I screamed, arching into his mouth, my body clenching and clasping on nothing, begging for more even as I dove into pleasure.

Ronson growled and wrapped his arm around my back, holding me tight. He could fly for us both as I fell. I was safe. I clung to him, one wave after another cresting, subsiding, taking all my strength and the rest of the world away, leaving me to float gently back into my own skin.

Feather-light kisses brushed over my chest, pausing to rest over my thrumming heartbeat. Ronson's short beard scraped between my breasts as he trailed his nose over my skin. My hands were lazy and limp on his back, soaking up the sound of his purr through my palms.

"Your jacket…" I murmured, blinking up at the high stone arches of the library ceiling, plucking at the collar of his coat.

"If I take a single stitch off, I'm not sure I can keep myself from… I'm only exploring," Ronson said, low and dark, as if to remind himself. His tongue mapped my belly button, and I squeaked and pushed at his head, not thinking about the where of directing him, only away from such a strange and silly place⁠—

And then his breath ghosted and brushed between my legs. I froze, gasping, too afraid to glance down, afraid to move. He would be offended that I shoved him, would correct my error, or⁠—

Calloused thumbs stroked down either side of my sex, and bristle-soft cheeks nuzzled against one thigh and then the other.

"Ronson—" I started, barely strangling his name out.

"Mairwen, the first thing you did was take my sac in hand," he said dryly. "I think I'm owed a little peek."

My mouth opened and closed, but his thumbs were sliding through embarrassing wetness, parting the folds of a place I was only just familiar with, and his face was right there.

"Fuck. Fuck, Mairwen, you're so pretty."

I made a small sound, fairly sure my heart was about to burst right out of my chest, that I might expire from some unfortunate blend of shock and horror and joy. No one had ever really called me pretty before. Certainly not beautiful. And perfect was such a ludicrous thought that I assumed I'd imagined the word in some sort of lusty fever.

But then again…no one had ever taken so close a look at these particular parts of me. I softened and let my alpha look his fill.

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Chapter FifteenRONSON

Iwas hard as stone. Harder. I was probably carving into the carpet and brick floor by sheer force of my outrageous arousal. My mouth was salivating to the point of nearly drowning me, and I thought the seams of my clothing might be just at the edge of tearing for how imperative it was to my mind and body that I get out of them and into Mairwen.

The air was thick to the point of heaviness, Mairwen's ambrosia of an omega perfume coating her skin and pooling on her in this perfect, shadowy, delicate, precious place. I hauled in a breath, and my purr roared in my chest. I nuzzled closer, ignoring the sharp pain of my stiff-enough-to-hammer-nails cock against the floor, my eyes rolling back as her slick arousal glossed against the tip of my nose.

"Ronson, what-what are you⁠—"

"You know," I snarled back. "You liked my taste, didn't you, omega?"

She stiffened, her lush bottom flexing in my hands. I answered the gesture with a hearty squeeze and her breath gusted out.

"Oh."

Oh, indeed.

Oh, I had claimed an omega with a body made for touch, with breasts that tasted like spun sugar and honey and beeswax, whose perfume was a secret only I knew, and who quaked and shuddered and cried my name as she came from me feasting on her breasts alone.

Oh, I had not even been inside her yet, and I was certain I would never be satisfied with another woman.

Oh, my rut was hours away, and I would spend every minute making Mairwen feel pleasure, just to know all the ways she might reach her peak.

I opened my eyes for one last dark and sacred look at her, all wet and rosy, dark curls soft and tight, and then I set upon her with an open, starving mouth and a long groan in my chest.

Her taste was insanity and salvation—sweet and tangy, as rich and heady as DeRoche's fine liquor. One lick, and I was both sated and insatiable. Mairwen's whimper was a siren call in my ear. She was too quiet. I liked her voice and I wanted it loud and often, calling my name, pleading and praising.

I burrowed my tongue inside of her and got a sharp curse instead, one that drew a laugh from me. Her hips bucked, and I held them tightly, stroking my tongue up between her folds, searching for⁠—

"Oh! Ronson! I-I⁠—"

I resisted my grin. Victory. I teased my tongue around her clit, cleaning and claiming her flavor. Every little inch of her was so subtly different. Mine to memorize.

Mine.

I snarled and sucked on the spot until Mairwen was thrashing in my grip and then took mercy on her. Her breath sobbed, and I lifted my head to find her with an arm thrown over her face.

"You're not watching," I said.

"I can't," she moaned. I frowned, but she continued before I could object, "It's too much. Too much to feel. I can't look too. Not yet."

She's inexperienced. This is new. My head cleared a little, and I rested my cheek against her stomach, purring as she stroked a trembling hand through my hair.

"Do you want me to stop?" Please say no.

Mairwen's breath hitched, and her tongue slipped out, wetting her lips. It wasn't fair that I couldn't have my mouth on every part of her all at once. My dragon would devour her if given the chance. I would have to try and keep my head on during the rut, or I might end up…I didn't know. I suffered some unnameable craving to sink my teeth into this woman and never release her.

Mairwen's hips lifted and nudged against my chin. "Don't stop," she whispered.

I grinned, and set to my work. I memorized her with kisses, acquainting her with my mouth, learning all her flavors, until she was soft and sighing, occasionally wiggling for more. I slid one hand around her thigh and dipped my finger inside of her. Tight and giving at the same time, squeezing my touch in eager greeting. So fucking hot and wet.

Mairwen moaned as I took her clit in a long, sloppy kiss, easing my finger inside of her slowly, patient when she tensed, stroking till she was sucking me in deeper.

"Did you ever put your fingers inside yourself, omega?" I called.

"N-no."

"Do you like mine in you?" I asked, plunging it in and out gently.

"Yes," she moaned, following the rhythm with a soft hitch of her hips.

"Do you want another? Want me to stretch you?" Please say yes. For both our sakes.

"Will-will you make me come?" she asked, voice trembling.

She was already starting to clench around my finger, and when I nipped a kiss on her clit she made a sweet sound, close to the edge.

"Always," I answered, lifting my head, delighted to find she was propped up on her elbows, watching me, eyes dark with arousal, cheeks and breasts flushed.

"Yes. I want more of you," she whispered.

I groaned and pressed my face between her legs, panting at the plea. I could tear open my trousers, thrust inside of her and give her everything. Take her mouth in a kiss and fuck her here on the old carpet until we were both limp and satisfied.

No. Not yet. Just another finger. To ready her. So she wouldn't be too surprised by how it felt when I was inside of her…when we finally⁠—

"Ronson?"

I clasped my lips around her clit before she could say anything else to drive me out of my mind, turned her gasp into a shout, and slowly worked in my second finger, pumping her steadily, stretching her with a little spreading gesture.

"Ronson! Oh! I—Alpha!"

My wings drummed in the air and I snarled, lashing my tongue across Mairwen's clit, moaning as her thighs clamped around my hands and face, a soft, muffling press around my ears that muted everything but her taste on my tongue and the clamp of her core on my fingers and the slightly faded sound of her calling my name, calling me alpha, crying out her release.

I kept at her, licking up every sweet drop of her, curling my fingers inside of her core, knowing the power I had over her, the same she had over me. Another, my dragon roared, and this time we'd have our way. Mairwen would come again. I would make her weak, destroy her with these touches, and I would cherish her in the wreckage.

I appreciated Mairwen's work on the nest more the second time I saw it, with her bundled in my arms, dressed in a rumpled chemise and my great coat. She was sleeping, or at least pretending, her thighs chafed from my beard, breasts still rosy and tender, lips swollen from hungry kisses.

"It really is perfect, omega," I whispered.

Her cheeks turned pink as I laid her on the mattress. She was awake after all. An insatiable maw in my chest roared back to life as I pulled my coat away, revealing her gentle shape on the bed beneath me. The sun was rising over the isle, a hazy sugared violet staining the sky around the coral-pink bud of morning, but I had no intention of greeting the day.

No more petty beta disputes. No more alpha politics.

I pulled the curtains of the nest shut and turned back to the lovely shadows beneath me.

"Lift your hips," I said, drawing Mairwen's chemise up her thighs.

She blinked drowsily up at me but obeyed. "We're not sleeping?"

"Not yet."

Mairwen sighed and remained limp as I carefully undressed her. "You're still fully dressed. Is it still your turn? You don't…you don't mean to have your turn all day, do you?"

"What a wonderful thought," I said, grinning.

"Because I only had a few hours that night. It wouldn't be fair. In fact, I think we're even and⁠—"

I shrugged out of my shirt, tossing it to the other side of the nest, and then dove down, muting Mairwen's speech with a firm kiss. She squirmed beneath me, not for escape but for closeness, tugging her legs out from under me to wrap around my waist, arching into my chest and nuzzling closer, parting her lips. I pulled my mouth from hers, digging my fingers into soft, cool sheets when she whined in complaint.

"No more turns, Mairwen. The rut is close. Tomorrow, I think." I grazed my mouth over her cheekbones, and she sighed. "All I want is for you and I to⁠—"

Knock, knock, knock.

Mairwen barked out a sudden bright trill of laughter at the interruption—such a delightful, genuine sound that it managed to distract me from the immediate rage that tried to storm through me. She covered her giggle with her hand as I sat up, and I groaned at the sight of her breasts bouncing.

"Ronson—"

"Fucking no, Niall," I snarled in answer.

"There's a fire spreading from one of the estates toward the village," Niall called through the door.

Mairwen's laugh died abruptly and she scrambled up. I caught her in my arms, cursing myself as I found a bundle of deliciously lush curves pressed up against me.

Pin her down. Fuck her. Breed her.

It took so much effort to fight the order from my dragon that my body shook, resisting the urge to bury my face in Mairwen's neck and my cock in her soft, welcoming core.

"What estate?" Mairwen called, her own voice clear and sharp.

"Don't wiggle," I growled.

"Ronson, we have to go⁠—"

I reared back, eyes wide. "You're not going anywhere!"

"The Quincy land."

Mairwen and I both stilled, and my eyes fell shut. Fuck.

"Ronson, that's right near my home," Mairwen breathed.

Your home is here, I wanted to snap, the fiery temper of the dragon too close at hand. I forced myself to shift away, cupping Mairwen's head with one hand and brushing a gentle kiss to her temple.

"I'm coming," I called to Niall, scrubbing a hand over my face as I pulled away from my omega, turning for the nest entrance.

"Where's my chemise? Oh! My dress and corset are downstairs and—Oh damnit, Ronson, you tore my corset."

I shoved aside the curtains of the nest and looked back to find a beautifully bare Mairwen scrambling after me. My hand lashed out without thinking, lightly shoving her back into the pillows.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Mairwen gaped up at me, her hair tangled and drooping around her face, body splayed in a deceptive invitation that took a painful determination to resist. "I'm coming with you!"

"Mairwen—"

The door creaked. "Ronson⁠—"

"Don't you dare come through that door, Niall!" I roared. My voice shook in the air, and my mouth was hot and dry, a little dragon fire at the back of my throat.

The door clicked shut again and I gathered a breath, releasing it slowly, preparing to apologize to Mairwen for my temper, to urge her to stay here and keep me from losing my mind completely.

Instead, I found her standing, entirely naked, boldly glaring up at me, chin high and shoulders back like a queen. I salivated, and a growling purr rumbled in my chest.

"You can't stop me from leaving the castle," she said cooly.

Oh, I absolutely can, I thought, smirking.

Mairwen's eyes narrowed and then widened. "Are you considering tying me up?"

My knees buckled when her perfume floated around me, secretly teasing the idea she might not object to such a proposition under other circumstances.

"I am now," I muttered, forcing my steps away from the temptation that was my omega. "I need to go, to haul water. I'll be at my wit's end with you there in danger, exposed. Mairwen, I need you to stay in the nest."

"I'll be at my wit's end here, Ronson," she whispered, drawing up a sheet and wrapping it around herself. I wanted to rip it out of her hands, and I had to cover my face, shield my gaze, to try and hold onto any sense.

"I am coming. I will figure out a way to help," she said, a hard strength in her voice, one that I doubted many people realized she possessed. "That's my home, Ronson. My family."

A throat cleared from the other side of the door, and I debated the consequences of setting my brother on fire.

"It would be good for the isle to see you together," Niall suggested carefully. They don't value her the way they should. "Dress her practically. She can help me, or—Oh, quit growling, Ronson. She can help me, or she can fly with you. Better than charging there on her own and neither of us realizing."

I pulled my hands from my face at the sound of fabric rustling and was greeted by the sight of Mairwen's bottom bouncing as she tried to squeeze herself into a pair of my own breeches. It was working too, the wool offering just enough give for her ample curves, molding to her shape like a second skin.

"Fuck," I croaked, my teeth aching in my jaw. Breeches had never looked less practical.

Mairwen huffed as she buttoned them shut, spinning to face me. "I need a shirt."

She most certainly did. Because the sight of her standing in skin-tight pants, bare-chested, skin marked from my mouth and nipples pert from the cool morning air, was going to make me feral.

"Come here."

Mairwen squinted at me and shook her head. "No. You've got a look on your face."

My teeth were sharp in my smile as I asked, "A look?"

"A look like either you're going to spank me or kiss me, and we don't have time for either."

"She's right, Ronson," Niall called, his voice raising my hackles once more.

"Damn. Damn this isle, damn my brother, and damn the fire⁠—"

Mairwen waved her hands in the air and strode away. "Yes, yes. Aha! Stays. Come lace me up, and if you get handsy, I will tell Niall to come in."

"I'll break his fingers if he sees so much as an inch of you," I said, stomping after her, cursing her perfect, delectable, clever mind.

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Chapter SixteenMAIRWEN

My shoulders ached, my hands burned, and most of my front lower half was cold and wet from spilled water, but I heaved another bucketful into my arms, stubbornly marching after Niall toward the shrinking blaze. I'd had to borrow his boots—slippers wouldn't do for such an occasion—and they were too big for my feet, sliding and chafing with each step.

Niall waited at the edge of the fire for me to catch up, and together we tossed the water, scorching steam making me wince and brace as the water crashed into the flames. Niall's hand wrapped around my arm, and he pulled me along with him back to the line of men repeating the same work. There were wagons pumping water not far from here, but every bucket counted.

The woods of the Quincy estate had grown dry in the hot summer, and a stray campfire—likely from a poacher—had caught a small area on fire, leaving it to blaze overnight before anyone realized what was happening. We'd managed to stop the fire from reaching the village, but there wouldn't be much left of the estate, although with what I knew from my wanderings, it was mainly made of brambles and weeds and pine trees.

"You're tired," Niall said, pulling me aside.

I huffed and glared at him. "So are you. So is everyone."

Even Ronson's enormous dark dragon had looked weary on the last trip back from the sea, bearing his huge burden of carted water.

Niall nodded his head toward the small cluster of women who watched us work. "Rest a moment with your mother. If you drop into a pile of ash from exhaustion, Ronson will roast me for dinner. You'll be safe there. I'll keep an eye out."

And checking on me sitting in the cluster of other dragonkin women would be easier work for Niall than slowing his steps to match mine as he worked on dousing the fire. I sighed and nodded. "Fine. I'll save you a sandwich."

Niall's lips twitched as we parted ways, and I tilted my chin down to avoid the stares of the humans and beta dragons who were still working around the well. There'd been a fair amount of blustering when I'd arrived on Ronson's back and everyone had realized who I was. And then our alpha had roared and the objections had died down to whispered gossip as I hurried with Niall and set to work.

A whoosh of wings and stirring breeze swayed above me, and I paused to look up, shielding my eyes from the sun to watch Ronson's flight from the sea back to the fire, a great leather hammock gripped in his four massive, taloned feet. It was difficult to tell through the wavering heat of fire, steam, and smoke-sullied air, but I felt sure the alpha was watching me. I lifted a hand in a weak wave, and Ronson dropped two corners of the leather, a heaping flood of sea water crashing down onto the burning field.

He was flying the water to the center of the fire as the rest of us worked our way around the edges. The sun was high, and we'd been at work for hours already, but the first real signs of progress had only just begun. I was sticky and itchy with sweat, covered in soot, and only the refusal to rest had kept me upright with momentum thus far.

I paused, glancing at the huddle of women. I hadn't caught their notice yet. Most people weren't paying attention to me until they remembered I was here at all. It was such an outrageous notion for the alpha's omega to be dressed in men's clothing and helping in a crisis, most people managed to cheerfully forget my presence. Which wasn't so unusual for me, really. And in this moment especially, I didn't mind.

My mother stood with her friends, their heads bowed together, no doubt joined in some conversation that had nothing at all to do with the fire and more to do with what pairings had come of the selection, which omegas were likely to get with child, and who would make it through the births.

Behind me, a shout broke out in the distance, another group of beta men rushing back from a sudden blaze, the fire eating away at new territory, catching and spreading on a line toward town. I bit my lip and glanced at where Niall was steadily plowing on with the others, and then up at the shadow of Ronson as he turned back toward the sea.

Then I turned and ran for the spreading fire. Or hobbled as quickly as I could. Running was somewhat out of the question in Niall's borrowed boots.

None of the women noticed me passing, and I wasn't sure how likely it was that Niall would check on me right away. I should have been telling him where I was going, but I hated the idea of him tucking me back in with the omega matrons.

Perhaps I am less averse to real adventure than I thought.

I slowed as I neared the other group, my brow furrowing. They weren't moving. They weren't bustling and lining up as we had done, and though there was a well nearby and they all held buckets, they seemed to be…watching the fire. I swallowed and paused, eyeing the small patches of the fire to my left and the figures of the men ahead of me.

The Dunne brothers were there, a perfect mirror image of one another standing side by side. And Mr. Palmer too. I recognized his brilliant sapphire coat from the Huberts' the other day. The whole group had their backs to me, and I edged warily closer, holding my breath and waiting for them to act.

"How long do we keep this up?" Thomas Dunne asked, his voice raised just enough to speak over the fire, reaching my ears as I paused yards away from them, hiding behind one of the few beech trees to offer shelter. "At some point, the rut will take."

The rut?

"I don't know. It's only the Posy girl. Cadogan was desperate to grab her, but she can't be much incentive to take to his nest."

I stiffened, my face growing hot. Another day, if I'd heard the beta men speaking of me in such a way—not that they ever thought of me—I would've run from the scene. But this was more than just gossip and insults.

"We still don't know why he did take her," another beta said. "Unless he's mad. If he's not in rut, shouldn't we be trying to get him to change his mind? Dangle Adelaide back under his nose."

"Gamesby has new plans for the chit. He's locked up with her, hoping to sire before Cadogan."

My eyes widened as bile burnt in my throat. I'd never thought much of the betas of the island, but the polite society of garden parties and dinner tables had never revealed so much of their character to me. They were the grossest villains of the cheapest stories of my collection. Francesca wasn't silly at all—she was smart to run from them.

"What good will that do if the alpha gets his own heir on the Mouse?" the other Dunne brother asked.

"What do you think we're out here for, idiot?" Thomas hissed, and there was the sound of a thump and a scuffle of bodies.

"Enough," Palmer snapped. "We're delaying the inevitable, it's true. His dragon will demand he have her eventually. But the less opportunity, the more stress and distraction, the harder we make it for him. And she's practically an old maid as it is. He's not likely to get another rut out of her. Not one that bears fruit."

My fingernails dug into the bark of the tree at my back. I needed to get away from here. Get back to Ronson. These men made me want to leave the isle to burn, to take the alpha back to the nest just to prove them wrong. But what if they are right? a wicked voice in my head teased, sounding too close to their own mocking tones.

Did I want them to be wrong? Male dragon births, only achievable after a rut, were exceptionally dangerous, and rarely did both mother and child survive. I'd dreaded the prospect with Gryffyd Evans for a myriad of reasons, mentally dropping a period at the end of the sentence of my life when I'd considered my fate after the selection.

But I'd been chosen by the alpha. And there'd been a bit of dread mingling in with all of the confusion and shock, a sense of responsibility I hadn't prepared for, a massive turn in the path I'd thought I'd been resigned to. Somewhere between drugging kisses and wry, dark smiles, I'd wandered into a silly fantasy where I was favored by the outrageously handsome, breathtaking, and mind-numbing alpha.

Who had picked me.

To bear his heir and continue his line of alphas—a line that had gone unbroken for over a millenium.

The smoke in the air offered an excuse for the sudden blur of tears in my eyes. I wanted to prove to the betas and omegas of the island that I was the right choice. I wanted Ronson's smiles and the weight of his body on top of mine and a thousand of his kisses—preferably in a variety of places. I wanted to be the perfect omega in the perfect nest, and I wanted to bear the heir, the next Alpha of Bleake Isle.

I also wanted to survive.

"Get busy. That halfling is headed our way," Palmer snapped under his breath.

I spun and found Niall storming toward my hiding spot. He would give me away and then the betas would realize what I'd heard. I flapped my hands uselessly for a moment, a breeze carrying smoke through the air and clearing the view of Niall's glare, and then I lifted one finger to my lips, nodding in the direction of the men I hid from.

He continued face unreadable aside from frustration, and then his eyebrows lifted and his steps slowed. He jerked his head, a sort of up and backward motion I didn't understand until the massive shadow of Ronson's dragon sailed overhead and then swooped, curving toward a landing in the field.

"You lot look like you could use extra wings," Niall called, redirecting slightly to pass by me without stopping. "How did this spread?"

His wings were stretched wide, hopefully enough to obstruct the view of me running back the way I'd come, back to the field where the omegas mingled and gossiped and fussed their way toward the alpha. Ronson's long and lethal tail swung and thumped against the ground, and the women's voices tittered with nerves, a few even skirting back. His long neck craned and searched the crowd, a brief puff of fire bursting from his nostrils, gaining a few cries of dismay from the men still working to put all other fires out.

"Ronson!"

The dragon's gaze, hot as coals, snapped to me as I burst from the treeline and onto the field, a few stares turning in my direction but most remaining cautiously on the enormous and temperamental dragon. His talons dug grooves into the grasses and dirt, kicking clumps back as he took two steps toward the skittish crowd, and then the air simmered and stirred and Ronson shrank back to his gentleman's form.

His dragon scales had been dulled by the smoke, but transformation left all that behind, and compared to everyone out in the field, he looked so pristine it made me stumble. My belly swooped at the familiar intent sharpening his expression, my own muscles tightening in anticipation.

"Mairwen," he growled in greeting, and if I hadn't known better—known the way he spoke my name when he was crawling up my body to claim my lips in a kiss—I would've panicked at the thought of displeasing the alpha.

But the alpha was Ronson, and I knew the look on his face as he begged for me to touch him.

I ran toward him, accidentally knocking a pretty omega who was scarcely older than me out of the way—one of the omegas he hadn't chosen a decade ago. Ronson's snarling purr thundered in the field, and his knees bent as I leapt, his arms snapping around my waist, one hand clapping possessively over my bottom.

I wrapped my own arms around his shoulders, bowing my head to whisper in his ear. "The betas started the fire themselves. They're trying to keep you from your rut so you can't gain an heir before they have a new plan in place."

Ronson stiffened, although his chest was rumbling with a purr, and his hands absently squeezed my body as if reacquainting themselves with my shape. Perfect, as he'd called it.

Whatever the betas thought of me, of Ronson's choice, I'd believed that word as it was rasped into my skin. I believed the awe and hunger in Ronson's gaze as he'd watched me meet my pleasure with wide eyes.

I leaned back, my face hot, too many stares pointed in our direction. Ronson's eyes were black with hunger, just a hint of deep brown surrounding his wide pupils. I stroked his cheek and left a sooty mark.

"Take me back to the castle, alpha."

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