Текст книги "The Alpha of Bleake Isle"

Автор книги: Kathryn Moon

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Chapter Twenty-TwoRONSON

“There are barely enough viable omegas to go around as it is⁠—"

"If a man might provide for more⁠—"

"There'd be more if the alpha wasn't letting them dash off the island to ancients know where."

"—and you want to claim new ones and keep the old too?"

"Discarding a woman who served me well with a son just because she is no longer likely to provide a second is hardly the gallant gesture, now, is it? And my estate⁠—"

"I think we've had enough," Niall whispered to me under his breath.

I stirred in my seat, glaring at the gentlemen gathered around Lord Cambeth's table, and caught the tail end of the ridiculous conversation I'd been doing my best to ignore. Which had been surprisingly easy, considering the much more pleasant recollections readily available in my head.

"Cambeth, sit," I snapped, with the full weight of my alpha strength.

The conversation died abruptly, a screech of wooden legs on stone tearing against my ears as Lord Cambeth obeyed, against his will or otherwise.

"My lord," he tried.

"Lady Cambeth granted you a son, as you said. A nice, healthy heir, if he is the one I saw racing past the window on your excellent horseflesh earlier."

Lord Cambeth's chest puffed. "He's a fearsome rider. Very strong lad."

"And you have a daughter too, I believe," I said.

Lord Cambeth nodded, smirking slightly. "A great beauty."

Lord Cambeth had partnered an omega once before that I could recall, but there'd been no heir or issue, and she'd taken ill one winter a couple decades ago and passed away. The circumstances were only the slightest bit mysterious, and the investigator I'd put to the case had come away with nothing to incriminate the lord.

"You've been blessed," I continued, nodding to the man, feeding his pride. "You're correct that it would be quite ungentlemanly of you to cast your omega aside just because she is now past the age of fruitfulness."

Lord Cambeth's eyes gleamed with victory. The fool thought his absurd argument had won.

"Just as outrageous as it would be displace her in the home she has built you, in the bed she has made for you; to hand the keys over to a new woman, while she remains trapped to watch her position usurped," I continued, clasping my hands together on the surface of the table. "You ask too much, your boon is refused. You have the riches of your family. Be grateful for what your omega has granted you."

Silence rang around the room, and I knew from Niall's raised eyebrows and downturned glance that I had perhaps spoken too harshly against the older beta. But his request was absurd. To claim a second omega and hold two in his home together? A new one to bed and breed, while the elder, the mother of his dragonkin children, was set aside?

"Then I request⁠—"

"Do not request to me you be granted the right to break contract with Lady Cambeth," I snapped, rising from my seat. "You have your heir. Your estate is secure. Be grateful," I snarled softly.

Too harsh, Niall's voice cautioned in my head. But it was too late. And I wondered if maybe it wasn't time for me to start showing my teeth to these betas. Had I been too timid with them, trying to prove I was not my father, approaching their queries with reason and bargaining? I was the alpha. I didn't need to cajole these men, not when I could command them.

I narrowed my gaze and looked around the room. "The selection ceremony has confused you gentlemen. You think your omegas are a right. They are our privilege."

Betas shifted irritably around the table, some slack-jawed with shock, others eyeing one another as if to say See, he's against us. In truth, I was against those men. I'd been treading gently, trying to grease palms and make friends out of enemies. It meant I'd had to compromise where compromises were not deserving.

"They are your right, alpha, are they not?" Gideon Millward called out from the far end of the table.

Damn. I wet my lips and avoided Niall's eye, meeting only Gideon's gaze. "By the law of the selection, yes, an omega is my right. But as you gentlemen may remember, it was a right I refrained from for a great many years." Half-hearted chuckles answered my raised eyebrows. "Until Omega Cadogan."

And I dare one of you to tell me you really wanted her, I snarled in my thoughts, answering myself with, Mairwen would be wasted on them.

I leaned back in my chair, shoulders rolling and wings flexing restlessly. Thinking of Mairwen only reminded me how badly I wanted to be back in our nest. Preferably with her pinned beneath me, begging and gasping.

"My lord, be reasonable. You have denied us at every turn today," Redmond Palmer said, forcing a tense attempt at a jovial grin on his face. "You are our alpha. You are meant to serve the interests of the island. The interests we present⁠—"

I raised my hand, and the man's words died on his tongue, the corners of his eyes flinching at my interruption. "The interest of the island. Which are not solely the interests of the beta gentlemen who seek to make a profit or claim young women to their bedchambers."

"Lord Cadogan!"

"Mr. Buchanan, your mine has thrice now claimed lives. It has been sucked clean of profit, sir. I would be a fool to grant you the loan to reopen, to send more human workers⁠—"

"They desire work!"

"—to their graves in the hopes of another thin vein of tin," I said. "I agree that men out of work is not what we wish for the island, but families without fathers will serve no better. We must divert the efforts elsewhere. Alpha DeRoche has opened his seas another fifty miles to us."

"You want me to become a fishmonger," Mr. Buchanan spat. Lionel Buchanan was young and the only son of a once-prosperous mining empire, the only inheritance left to him and one that had been drained of its fortune long before his birth. He was very handsome but at the brink of being entirely penniless, and had persuaded no omega to his side yet.

I gathered in a deep breath, fire swirling in my lungs, my claws digging into the arms of the chair, and Buchanan paled slightly.

"Should you change your mind, a suitable account will be arranged for you to start a small fleet of fishing boats."

"And the new mine?" Redmond Palmer asked, eyes gleaming brightly, almost as if he were eager for my refusal.

"There is no evidence to suggest it would be successful and certainly not safe. You need certifiable studies, Palmer. It will serve none of us if the isle crumbles into water pits you all insisted upon digging."

Palmer's lips pursed, but he sat back.

"There's no cause to evict paying tenants from their homes," I continued, waving to another beta who'd wanted to unhouse a number of human farmers to add hunting land to his estate. "And as you already have an omega, Lord Cambeth, no, you may not take another. If you gentlemen wish to gain my permission, I suggest you bring me better causes."

Grumbles circled the table, a few betas brave enough to mutter choice words. I collected my courage and turned to glance at Niall. He was already staring at me, face nearly blank. Except I'd known him all my life and there was a sliver of humor in his eyes, the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth. Good. If Niall were truly angry with my decision, if he thought I'd done wrong, there'd be no hint of a laugh. We pushed back our chairs in unison, and I immediately debated the merits of flying to the village before returning to the castle. I could stop at a bookseller, see if I could find anything for Mairwen that wasn't already in the library. Then again…there were likely plenty of books in the library she hadn't read yet, and she was there, waiting⁠—

"Alpha Cadogan, a word as you leave, if you have a moment."

I paused, and my head cleared of russet locks and pink skin. Gideon Millward stood at the edge of the room, his eyes on the milling and exiting gentlemen as if he hadn't spoken a word. Interesting. I glanced at Niall who nodded, waiting.

"Speak to Lord Posy. Issue an invitation to the castle for him and his wife in…" Mairwen was only seeing the seamstress today, and for some reason I didn't want the rest of dragonkin to see her in her old dresses again, even her parents. Not now that she was mine. "In ten days' time."

Niall split away from me, weaving through the betas to catch Mairwen's father, and I dipped my head to Millward, continuing on my path toward the exit.

"I'll warn you now, I'm no more likely to say yes in private to something absurd than I am around that table." We would have to walk together, and it would slow my progress back to the castle. To Mairwen. At least it wasn't late.

"And certainly not to a beta with as little to offer you in influence as I do," Gideon answered.

I shot him a glance over my shoulder as we stepped outside of Lord Cambeth's manor, but he seemed easy, unbothered by the truth of his statement. I grunted in answer, and his lips quirked.

"For what it's worth, I don't think this request is absurd, but you're welcome to correct me," he added. "I never did congratulate you properly."

My steps slowed. Some betas were stepping into carriages already. Many remained milling in Cambeth's drawing room, no doubt to speak my name in foul tones.

"On selecting your omega," Gideon said, matching my pace to walk beside me as we headed for the gates of the Cambeth estate.

"Ah. Few did," I muttered, but a smile curved at my lips. "But given my fortune in Mairwen, I'm inclined not to be offended."

Millward stared at me, full of questions. Did he think I was as mad for choosing Mairwen as the others did?

"That's her perfume, I take it," he said, obvious curiosity lacing his voice.

I stopped still, turning to stare down my nose at the man in warning. "I am willing to hear you out, Millward, but I suggest you take a different track."

"I don't mean to offend, but there was never any sign⁠—"

"You're being very bold."

Gideon laughed. "I'm being honest with you, alpha. You seem the type to appreciate that sort of thing."

"Any dragon lucky enough to have an omega will have her perfume on his skin, yes?"

"If your aim was to prove to dragonkin that we are wrong to doubt your choice, presenting Omega Cadogan would do more. Now they'll just think you wear false perfume," Gideon said, shrugging his shoulders and turning to pace forward.

I gaped briefly at his back. The nerve of this beta. He reminded me of…Niall. Damnit. That meant I liked him. "This is what you wanted to speak to me about?"

Gideon paused, and I marched to catch up with him. "It's all that any of dragonkin wants to speak about, my lord. But you're right—it isn't why I asked for your time. I know a man, a farm laborer at the moment, who grew up north of Skybern. His father worked for a pearl farmer, and he learned the process himself when he was young. He uses it still, although on a small scale."

I kept silent, my eyes on the high tower of the castle, where I hoped to find Mairwen waiting for me when all this was done. The longer I was quiet, the more Gideon Millward fidgeted in our walk, turning to me, waiting, then turning away again.

He huffed. "You think I should've brought this proposal to the table."

"That is how these things work." I was curious, though, not that I wanted to let him know as much after he'd been so impertinent about Mairwen's perfume.

"It is also how someone like Gamesby or Palmer would've purchased this man's expertise out from under me before I had time to persuade you to loan me the capital. It's not a quick return on investment, my lord."

"I imagine not. How long?"

"If I want to do it right, at least a year and a half before the first harvest. Preferably longer. But after that point, profit is easy."

I nodded. I knew enough of the market to know Damian Worthington owned portions of several pearl farms. That investment had made him rich, and with his wealth, he'd secured influence over his betas.

"How much are you offering me?" I asked, not tearing my stare from the castle.

"Five percent," Gideon answered.

I laughed. "Five percent is very low."

"Five percent, and you can choose me a partner. Another beta gentleman. One who would be…"

I stopped. Gideon and I were safely away from anyone else. His own home was in the opposite direction, but he was following me toward the castle. I turned to face him and waited for him to finish.

"Grateful," he said at last, shrugging. "One whose gratitude might sway his ear away from other influences."

I recalled the faces around the table today. Gideon Millward was smart to offer me this. I didn't need more than the five percent share. I needed allies who'd want me alive to keep their pearl farm invested until it bore fruit.

"Can you stand to work with Buchanan?" I asked. Niall had seen Gideon going to Buchanan's house after I'd denied him Francesca, but I'd never seen the men interact in person. There was something private between them, and I wondered how it would affect Gideon's decision.

He paled slightly, staring warily at me, but I'd never been very good at expressing myself, and it suited me in moments like this to be impenetrably obscure.

"He's not the worst of them, really, just desperate," Gideon said, holding my gaze. "Give him a fortune, and you'll have his loyalty back. It won't take us much to start. Just a few men."

"Bring the numbers to the castle. Not today," I said, catching the sharp gleam of triumph in his expression. It was after luncheon, an early time to declare myself done with business, but…

Gideon only bowed. "Yes, Alpha Cadogan. Thank you."

I spread my wings and leapt to the air without another word.

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Chapter Twenty-ThreeMAIRWEN

Sex was rather wonderful.

I rolled my hips, shivering as cool air trickled through the parted curtains, teasing against the sweat that beaded on my back and between my breasts. Beneath me, the Alpha of Bleake Isle groaned and twisted, body bucking up, pleading with me.

I grinned, and Ronson huffed.

"You love to torture me," he rasped, propping himself up on one elbow and reaching for a breast with his free hand. I stiffened, but he was gentle, brushing his thumb across my nipple till it pebbled for his touch.

"I don't think you know the meaning of that word, my lord," I said, leaning forward and grazing my breast against his mouth. His tongue flicked out as dark eyes stared up at me, and my breath hitched in my throat.

"I don't think you've fully considered what I will put you through in exchange." Ronson's smile was sharp, but his hands stroked softly up my back as he drew me closer. Our eyes slid shut as his lips enveloped my nipple. I whimpered and rode his length, that perfect fit inside of me, and for a few minutes we were wrapped around one another, harmony in motion, a matching rhythm of heartbeats.

I cried out, partly in delight and partly in mourning, as heat burst within and Ronson growled, sitting up and holding me close, kisses coating my throat and shoulders. His knot pushed against me and I gasped, halfway crashed from the height I'd reached, ready to fly again. Ronson's voice was buried into my skin as I thrust my hips down and accepted his knot. The grip of his teeth on my shoulder was the harsh edge against the hazy ecstasy that billowed through me at the union, and my fingers flew into his hair, tightening roughly, holding his bite at bay.

"Ronson!"

He snarled into my shoulder, fingers digging into my back, and for a moment—and the recollection of a dozen moments in the rut and heat where I'd held him back—I thought he would fight the restraint, take what he craved. I would let him. I hadn't told him so; we hadn't really discussed some of the events of the rut—neither of us were entirely lucid at the same time—but there was a strange thrill racing through me when he bit me, a kind of impossible joy.

Slowly, as pleasure simmered inside of me with the slow pulse of his knot and our release, Ronson's jaw loosened. His tongue swiped around the edges of his teeth, a glittery warmth like the shimmer of sunlight on the waves of the sea racing through me. My fingers stroked through the strands of his hair, and Ronson and I both sighed.

"Forgive me," he whispered, kissing the bruises that still healed from his bites. "Fuck, Mairwen, I⁠—"

"It's all right," I soothed, rocking on his lap. His hands gripped my hips, stilling me, and his head shook, falling back into the cradle of my palms.

He's mine, a little voice whispered.

"I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm going—I feel as though some kind of madness is taking hold," he murmured.

It was difficult to tell—his eyes were too dark—but there was a kind of haze in his gaze that reminded me of the rut. I combed my hand through his hair, and his eyes blinked slowly.

"You really want to bite me?" I asked. He'd come so near so many times already, but that had been the rut and it had passed now, hadn't it?

Except that when he'd returned from his meeting with the betas, he'd snarled and tackled me into the nest, nearly tearing my robe in his haste to be inside of me. I hadn't been much less urgent, clawing at his trousers, rucking my hips up to draw him into me before either of us were fully undressed.

It was late now, dark outside. We hadn't left the nest.

"I don't want to hurt you," Ronson said, slowly easing back, turning us to face one another on our sides. He was still firmly fastened inside of me, but without much movement it was just a pleasant glowing feeling, a warm union.

"But…" I prompted.

He sighed, and one hand left my hip to cover his eyes. "It's… Mairwen, I know…"

"Ronson, I'm hardly in a position to run screaming from the room at the moment, just⁠—"

"Yes. I want to bite you. I-I-I've never… I have no idea what comes over me, but⁠—"

I stretched, pushing Ronson's hand away, covering his mouth with my own, breathing with him as much as kissing him until he settled.

"It is strange," I admitted, and he flinched. "No stranger than the impulse I have to let you bite me."

He stiffened and then his arms were wrapping around me, chest purring against my own, body leaning closer. I laughed and pressed my palm to his chest.

"Ronson, stop. You're not going to bite me."

"Just a little nibble," he teased, rocking closer, distracting me with a sudden wave of pleasure.

I snorted and wrestled against him, which did very little to persuade either of us to stop moving. "Hasn't it occurred to you there might be consequences, you mad beast?"

He blinked, pushing me onto my back, settling comfortably between my thighs. "Consequences?" he repeated, brow furrowing.

I stroked his shoulders. "It's not a…a reasoned impulse, is it? The urge to bite me?"

He stared at the mark on my shoulder, freshened by his latest attempt, half in hunger and half in worry. "No, it isn't. It feels like… I don't usually feel separate from my dragon, but this is his impulse. You think there might be more to it than just a monstrous desire to devour you in every manner possible?" His lips quirked and his head ducked, kissing my lips, chin, and the tip of my nose in succession.

"I think it merits some research."

"Ahhh, I see. This is an excuse for you to get back in my library," Ronson purred.

"You did catch me before I could visit today. And it's been weeks, you know," I said, fighting my grin.

This was lovely. This teasing. This man who liked me and kissed me and apparently desired me so much, he wanted to bite me. Perhaps that shouldn't have been so flattering. Perhaps Ronson was as wrong an alpha as I was an omega.

For now, I didn't mind.

"How on earth did she manage to get these done so quickly? It's only been a few days!"

"You're the alpha's omega. I'm sure she's eager to please," Ronson said, rising from the bath we'd been enjoying together, twisting a towel around his hips and pacing closer. "Go on, let's see."

My hand hovered over the delicate tissue paper, scattered with dried lavender and tied shut with a sprig of rosemary. I lifted my face and narrowed my gaze at my alpha. "Whatever she made for me, you musn't tear, slice, rip⁠—"

Ronson barked out a laugh, and for a moment I forgot the small delivery of clothes—only a partial deposit on the order Miss Pettyfer had arranged for me—or indeed anything but Ronson's smile.

"If she's done her work adequately, I agree, but if we find another narrow-boned corset designed to torture your⁠—"

"You are absurd," I said, huffing and pushing the tissue aside. My lips pursed at what I found.

"That looks like boning to me," Ronson muttered.

I sighed and pulled the contraption up from the box, my head tipping to the side. It was similar to a corset. "You may have to resign yourself to my need for structure to acquire a pleasing shape." Ronson growled, and I rolled my eyes, grateful he was at my back.

This wasn't a typical corset—at least that much was true. I pinched what I assumed was boning in my fingers and found that instead of a rigid pole inside, it was something flexible but thick enough to offer support. Instead of being slightly curved but primarily cylindrical in shape, the corset also included what could only be referred to as…cups. Rather obscenely sized ones. Made partly of lace. For my breasts.

"I suppose I'd better try it on," I murmured, standing up, finding my face unexpectedly warm. It was one thing to have Ronson tearing my clothes off, but it seemed an entirely more intimate thing to have him watching me put on my undergarments. "I'll call a maid."

A tan hand plucked the linen and lace from my fingers. "Nonsense. I think I can manage to offer assistance."

"My lord, that isn't⁠—"

"Don't be prim, omega, or I will be forced to use these laces to tie you up and remind you that there is no one better acquainted with how pleasing your form really is than myself."

My mouth dried, and I glared up at Ronson through my lashes.

"Disrobe," he coaxed, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

I was only wearing a robe in the first place, having risen from the bath when the maid knocked on the door to deliver the parcel. It'd been almost a week since the rut, but Ronson was still steadfast in not allowing anyone else into the room, although he now allowed the castle staff to approach the door.

I sighed and untied the robe, sliding it from my shoulders. Ronson's shadow was cast in three directions across the floor, lit up from behind by the candlelight in sconces. A rough purr thrummed across my shoulders as the silk robe hit the floor, and I found myself fighting a smile. Whether it was his intention or not, Ronson never left me in any doubt of his interest.

"Don't get distracted, alpha," I teased, surprised by the slightly husky rasp in my voice.

Ronson grunted and cleared his throat. "Lift your arms, omega."

I shivered but obeyed, and Ronson stepped closer with a rustle of fabric as he examined the new corset and then stretched it around my form.

"I disagree, by the way," he murmured as I adjusted the shape of the contraption against my chest, swallowing hard as I realized the lace of the cups extended down over my nipples, the shelf-like cups lifting my breasts high.

"Disagree?" I asked absently. The lace felt scandalous against my sensitive tips, and I was already anticipating a reaction from Ronson when he realized.

"Your shape needs no structure for enhancement. I like you in that robe best of all," he said, soft and rough, amending a moment later, "Aside from bare, of course."

The corset fastened around me, and he hummed, one hand cupping my waist. The curve of the corset was more of a deep V, settling comfortably at the narrowest part of my stomach. It was not the slim slope of fashion, but it was comfortable, and it did prove Miss Pettyfer's point about my waist.

"Laces," I prompted, glancing over my shoulder, only to find Ronson giving my behind a heated stare.

"You don't need to be strapped in, Mairwen," he grumped.

"This corset has no straps and needs to stay up, my lord. Please, I want to see how it's meant to look."

He harrumphed but began the laborious process of tying in the laces.

"Tighter," I said.

"No."

"Ronson," I huffed, rolling my eyes and reaching my hands back to do it myself. "It's not pinching me, and if it's too loose it will chafe."

He batted my hands away. "Fine, fine. I don't see the point of this. If your dresses fit properly, what need do you have for this?" But with gentle tugs the corset grew comfortably snug. It was strange to wear it against my skin like this; I should've put my chemise on first, but I wasn't planning on keeping it on for long. Only now I realized I was wearing this corset and only this corset, my sex still exposed to the warmth of the room, the towel wrapped around Ronson's hips occasionally grazing against my bottom.

"That's good," I said, twisting a little and finding that whatever magic Miss Pettyfer had worked into her new boning allowed me a comfortable range of movement. I glanced down and blushed at the high heave of my breasts below my nose. "I think I ought to put a dress on to see⁠—"

"Oh no, you don't!" Ronson laughed, catching me by my shoulder. "I put in a good effort on those laces, I deserve a⁠—"

His hands on my shoulders had turned me to face him, and his words died on his tongue. I was staring steadfastly at his chest, but I didn't miss the telltale movement tucked beneath the towel around his hips, and it gave me the bravery to glance up to meet his eyes.

Ronson's mouth hung slightly open, still frozen mid-sentence, and slowly his hand guided me to step back, to offer more of myself to his view, his black eyes caressing slowly over me, always pausing to linger at my breasts. His purr started, loud and approving, and I blushed as my own perfume answered automatically.

"A mirror," I murmured, trying to twist out of his grip.

"I changed my mind," Ronson rumbled.

"About what?" I whispered, unable to meet his eyes again.

"This is a lovely piece of invention." Ronson's hand slid from my left shoulder, tracing the delicate edge of lace that covered one breast down into the narrow V between, the slight callus of his finger scraping against my skin.

"I think it might be a bit…" I waved my hands in front of my chest, and my eyes rose up to the ceiling.

"Oh, it is absolutely…" But Ronson's gesture was to pinch my nipple through the lace, my breath hitching roughly as his claw pressed into my flesh.

"You can't—You promised—" He hadn't. "Ronson, don't tear this off of me," I said, meaning it as a stern warning but finding it came out as a breathless plea.

His sharp smile and the dark, hungry pierce of his stare against my skin did nothing to reassure me, even when paired with him rumbling, "Oh, omega, I don't intend to take it off you at all."

I squeaked as Ronson bent just enough to scoop me off my feet, his hands helping themselves to my ass. "Alpha?"

"I think I might be jealous of your seamstress, Mairwen," Ronson growled, hefting me against his chest, marching us toward the nest.

"Miss Pettyfer?" I laughed, my legs wrapping around his waist.

"I thought I alone understood your body so well," Ronson said, his head ducking down to bury itself between my breasts. "I underestimated her."

I snorted. "I think you likely have her beat in other areas, Ronson."

He arched a brow, and I found myself riveted to the sight of his lips parting, his tongue grazing over thin lace, dragging closer to my right breast, teeth glinting briefly in a grin. "I should hope she doesn't know your taste as well as I do."

Such a claim was so patently outrageous it deserved a hearty bout of laughter, not the breathless catch in my throat as Ronson latched his mouth to my nipple and began to suckle me through lace.

"It did not come up at the fitting, no," I murmured as the shadows of the nest enveloped us and I was laid down on my back.

"Just to be sure," Ronson purred, nipping my breasts before shoving me farther up the mattress and delving between my thighs.

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