Текст книги "The Alpha of Bleake Isle"

Автор книги: Kathryn Moon

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"I am jealous of DeRoche when he flirts with you. Jealous that Niall got to spend the day with you while I flew. Jealous that Bennett Reeves has impressed you with his presence." Ronson purred as he spoke, and I couldn't help but arch and rub myself against him.

"You know I don't⁠—"

Ronson ducked, stealing my protest with a gentle kiss. "I am proud too, Mairwen. So proud," he whispered, and I couldn't respond because he'd found his way inside of me, slowly and sweetly, our bodies perfectly attuned to one another after the rut and the heat. "Proud you are mine. My omega."

I whimpered, and Ronson silenced the sound with another kiss, rocking into me, over me, surrounding me in his arms, tilting my hips just so, driving all thought from my mind.

Almost all thought. There were two almost constantly playing in my head every morning and night, every hour.

I reached between us, grasping his face, speaking the simpler, easier of the two confessions out loud. "I am proud too. Proud to be yours. Proud you are my—" Ronson snarled and bucked, and I gasped, almost shouted in pleasure. "My alpha."

"Touch my wings, Mairwen. Wrap your legs around me."

I obeyed, and Ronson rewarded me with a thrusting kiss and a patient, practiced pace inside of me.

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Chapter ThirtyRONSON

Even in my dragon form, the sound of Mairwen's happy laughter was music. I swooped and swerved around the squawking gulls we passed, playfully snapping at the tail feathers of a brave little creature that darted towards me.

"Don't snack on them, Ronson!" Mairwen cried.

I rumbled, a softer warmth than my fire easing through me. Small hands stroked down the back of my neck, like the faintest breeze, but I relished the touch of my omega.

We'd taken a slow journey home, resting a day in Grave Hills before setting out at first light. I was looking forward to a long soak with Mairwen in my arms and a good nap in the nest. Niall had even promised us no disruptions until tomorrow morning. I was looking forward to making Mairwen perfume as I told her again how proud of her I was. For charming the other alphas. For gaining insight on the betas who waited to rise to power. For spending days flying without complaint, even though I knew she must be sore and tired with skin chapped from the wind.

I was looking forward to massaging her and spoiling her and praising her until she was a trembling mess of perfume and slick, and then wearing us both out in bed.

My eyes narrowed on the horizon, where the subtle spires of the castle pierced the bright blue sky. Seamus DeRoche was a dark inkblot above the castle, spinning in a circle, not landing, and as I flew nearer, Niall leapt from the dragon's back, a small speck in the sky hovering over the balcony.

A stony inkling settled heavily in my belly, a warning that my delicious plans might be interrupted after all. Was it too late to change course? Perhaps there was a small remote island somewhere nearby where I might rule as alpha with only Mairwen to please and impress and keep for my company.

DeRoche turned back in my direction, soaring closer, slowing in his approach. His ship was behind us, halfway between Bleake Isle and the southern coast of Grave Hills, waiting and ready for his return, but he didn't pass us, instead transforming in midair and aiming for my flight path. He swerved around my head like a slightly less appetizing, but significantly larger, seagull.

"What's wrong?" Mairwen called from my back, her legs tight in the saddle.

"You've got visitors. Niall seems to think you won't be pleased to see them," DeRoche warned.

I snarled, and a burst of flame nearly caught the edge of DeRoche's coat, but he only barked a laugh and darted away.

"Raise your fire if you need me," he called, flying overhead and transforming back into his dragon.

Mairwen's weight settled at the nape of my neck, her arms wrapping around my scales. I wanted to roar, to bolt forward and snap up the intruders and crunch them between my huge jaws. My little omega patted me lightly.

"Better dealt with than ignored," she called up to me.

I grumbled, but she was right, and I certainly wouldn't remain the alpha of the isle if I snacked on my subjects. I leaned forward, and it was only another minute or so before the figures that waited for us on the balcony were close enough to make out.

Gideon Millward was there at least, with Buchanan, but also Gamesby and Adelaide and Redmond Palmer. A small lash of dragon's fire escaped from my nostrils, and Beatrice and Niall gestured the uninvited guests inside, making room for me to land.

At least Gryffyd Evans hadn't been invited. After getting the full story from Mairwen, I would not have been able to resist making a tough meal out of the older beta.

Mairwen slid from my neck and shoulder with a slight oof of her breath as her boots hit the stone, and I twisted my neck, watching her stiff movements as I crouched low and she removed the saddle from my back. She looked a little tired but mostly troubled and nervous, tiny teeth plucking at a full lip.

"Why'd they bring her?" she whispered, adding under her breath, "Of course I look like this."

The saddle dropped to the balcony, and I didn't waste a second before transforming, ignoring the blaze of heat and the whip of wind, reaching for Mairwen. Her cheeks were flushed from the magic, but she came willingly, her hands fussing with the squashed braid of her hair and the askew folds of fabric she wore.

"We'll manage them easily," I said, my voice low as I bent and grazed my lips over hers. "And you look delicious, as always."

The balcony doors creaked as they opened, and Gamesby strode towards us, barely sparing a moment to offer too-shallow bows. "Alpha and Omega Cadogan, forgive us our intrusion. We thought you would've returned last night."

"Forgiveness will have to wait, Gamesby," I said, enjoying the beta's flinch and attempt at hiding the expression. "My siblings will see to your party's comfort as my omega and I take a moment to recover from the long journey. I'm sure you understand."

"If you might just⁠—"

Mairwen gasped as I snatched her about the waist and leapt into the air, weary wings beating in a determined path upwards.

"Are you sure we should leave them to wait?" Mairwen whispered.

"I am the Alpha of Bleake Isle, and you are my omega. We do not wait on men like Hugh Gamesby. He waits on us," I said, not caring whether or not the words might fall on the subject's ears.

"Very well, alpha," Mairwen said, restraining a laugh and drawing out my purr as she nuzzled my jaw. "Have it your way."

"Tease me, and we'll make them wait even longer, Mairwen."

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Chapter Thirty-OneMAIRWEN

“Oh, my. Why, these curtains, they're positively ancient, aren't they? Of course, I couldn't tell at first glance, as they're very well cared for. Naturally, the staff you now possess knows what they're about."

I rolled my eyes as Adelaide carried on.

"But quite, quite outdated. I suppose the rumors must be true," Adelaide said, gaze flicking slyly over her shoulder at me and then snorting. "In which case, you haven't had the time to address your role as mistress here."

The rumors, the ones Adelaide no doubt imagined impossible, being that Ronson kept me in the nest, insatiable for his omega.

My spine straightened, and I found a smile curving my lips. The rumors were true.

"My role as mistress of this castle is to respect, honor, and protect the legacy of our isle's longest line of alphas," I said, watching Adelaide's coy glance tighten around her eyes. "This room was arranged by the first omega of Lord Francis Cadogan, the first of the Cadogan alphas. That pattern of weave was specially commissioned. It is the Cadogan crest, in silk and Bleake Isle wool, stitched with sea pearls and gold beads."

Adelaide blanched and turned away from the curtains. Which was for the best, considering my entire speech had been a bunch of nonsense, aside from the bit about the crest pattern.

"I would certainly be failing my alpha if I allowed fleeting fashions to overthrow the prestigious history of his family home," I said, the rare sensation of triumph sliding warmly through my veins.

Spending the afternoon with Adelaide had been wearying as she scattered a constant breadcrumb trail of slights, insinuations, and the occasional outright insult delivered with a giggle and wave of her hand, as if it was all a joke. As if a joke couldn't sting.

I'd accidentally gotten us lost on the way to the portrait gallery, a room I'd only seen on my tour with Beatrice, and Adelaide had quipped that I'd never learn my way around the world if I kept my nose in a book as I walked. When I explained that we'd just attended the Flight of Alphas, she nodded sagely and declared that must be why I looked so wind-chafed and weary, and what an overwhelming and intimidating experience it must've been for me. When I tried to settle us in the library for tea, she'd moaned about the smell of mold and how it would "cling" to her if she spent too long there, as I must always do.

The words did sting, like little mosquito pricks of discomfort, delivering the lingering itch of irritation and urge to retaliate. But they didn't hurt.

For the first time in our lives, Adelaide had lost and I had won. We'd never been in a competition before, not really. As far as our society was concerned, Adelaide was too far above me. I suspected the real reason behind her targeted attack was not so much the loss of Ronson to me, but that it was driving her mad to not know why he had chosen me.

I was glad she didn't know. It would've been the only weapon she might've used to really hurt me. The truth. That if Ronson hadn't learned of her planned deception, he would've chosen Adelaide.

He was lucky to have discovered it—he told me so often enough, and of course it was true. And I was starting to believe that there was something between us that no one else, no other more perfect omega, might've had with him.

Still, if not for that brief moment in the woods, the whispered plot and my stumbling blindly into Ronson's arms, Ronson would not have seen the mistake he was about to make…and he would not have seen me at all.

That did hurt, softly and deeply—an open wound at the very heart of me that Ronson unknowingly staunched when we were alone. It was hard to imagine Ronson wanting anyone else when he spoke words of praise and perfect, explicit filth in my ear.

But he'd almost made a different choice.

"Speaking of family," Adelaide started, rallying and straightening her shoulders. Her hand lifted from her side, hovering over her belly, and a nervous sinking weight settled in my chest. But the fates were looking after me, and the door from the hall opened into the parlor.

I couldn't help myself. I released an audible sigh at the sight of my alpha in the doorway, my cheeks warming at the way his stare fixed to me without so much as a flick of acknowledgement in the other omega's direction.

"Our meeting is concluded," Ronson said.

"I spoke to Cook. Our guests will remain for dinner," I answered, smiling at Ronson's scowl. "Beatrice is seeing that rooms are prepared for their stay."

"Their stay?" Ronson repeated, an eyebrow arching.

"For the night," I said, nodding.

Ronson prowled into the room, and I noted the way Adelaide shrank away from him slightly. I didn't understand how—I could barely keep myself from swooning into his chest as he neared. Behind him, Niall and the four betas we'd found upon our arrival stepped inside.

"You're in luck, Palmer. My omega is far more gracious than I. You'll have time to continue haranguing me over dinner," Ronson said, but he didn't bother looking over his shoulder at the beta.

I did, and what I saw left me wondering if I hadn't made a mistake. Palmer and Gamesby shared a smug, satisfied expression. Which meant whatever they'd come for, I'd given them the opportunity to still pursue.

"Niall will show you the way," Ronson said as his arm fastened around my waist, holding me firmly to his side. Adelaide was staring at where he held me, a puzzled frown on her lips, but she followed when Gamesby called for her, a peevish bite of her name, and the party filed out of the room.

"They're up to something," I whispered when Ronson and I were alone.

"Of course they are," he said, spinning me to face him and then crowding me backward.

I knew that hint of heat in his black eyes, the spark of fire in the depth of his irises warning me of his hunger.

I laughed and planted my hands on his chest, trying to slow him as he backed me against the wall. "Ronson!"

He rumbled pleasantly, hunching and surrounding me. "They heard about Millward's scheme for a pearl farming endeavor, and they claim they want the right to do the same."

I frowned and shook my head. "That can't be all."

"It certainly can't," Ronson agreed, hands sliding around my waist and down to grip my bottom, tugging my hips to press to his. "I don't want you alone with any of them."

"I won't be⁠—"

"Not even what's-her-face, Annabelle."

I pursed my lips and tipped my head. Did he really not remember her name, or did he know that would please me? Does it matter?

Ronson growled and ducked his head, teeth gently claiming my bottom lip. "You remain at mine or Niall's side tonight. Drink and eat nothing they hand you."

"You're worried they mean to harm me?" I asked, eyebrows raising.

"It's what I'd expect from a coward like Gamesby," Ronson muttered.

"I shouldn't have invited them to stay. We could change our minds?"

Ronson sighed, leaning into me, and his hands on my ass slid up to stroke my back. "No, you did precisely what an alpha's omega should. We'd be foolish to pretend they aren't a threat but just as foolish to show fear. And we have extra allies on hand tonight too. Millward and Buchanan aren't just here to defend their pearl farm. Come, we'll dress for dinner together." He stepped back, offering me his arm, a half-smile on his lips.

"More dresses from Miss Pettyfer arrived while we were gone."

Ronson purred. "Then I at least have something to look forward to tonight—unwrapping you."

Dinner was tense but harmless. Palmer and Gamesby made a show of wheedling Ronson over the pearl farm plan, but anyone could see it was pointless. They had no one who knew the process, and they had no need to ask Ronson for the capital when it was obvious they could provide it on their own.

In between snide jabs about favoritism, Ronson's restrictive measures against mining, and appropriate pay for farmers, Gamesby made an entirely different case.

"Don't eat that, love," he said, scooping a plate of fish out from under Adelaide's nose. "You know it won't sit well with you."

"Not another glass, my darling. You really shouldn't, you know," he said, shooing a servant away from Adelaide's wine goblet.

And with rude, snapping fingers raised in the air, "You look flushed! The fire is too warm for you. Open a window."

I knew what Gamesby was almost shouting at in his hints, what Adelaide had started to tell me before we were interrupted. What was funny was that Ronson was absolutely oblivious to the performance in front of him. When he wasn't batting away Palmer's petty arguments, he was simply enjoying his dinner, speaking with Gideon Millward, watching me with a hooded and warm gaze—the one I'd mistaken for a dark glare at our first acquaintance.

Gamesby was growing impatient.

It was Adelaide who fascinated me. She was not the effervescent girl of cozy parlors and garden picnics now. She appeared dwarfed by our surroundings, washed out by dark stone and glittering candlelight. Had she changed since the selection ceremony, or was I seeing her through new eyes? Even she seemed irritated by Gamesby's charade, although she caught his hand after the finger-snapping incident and gave us all a reprieve, holding him in his seat with a gentle glare.

Ronson cleared his throat as the last of the plates was removed from the table, catching my glance with a glitter of mischief in his eyes. He was going to send everyone on their way to bed, early as it was in the evening.

I stood and opened my mouth without thinking, only knowing that if I was called upon to play the role of the alpha's hostess, I wanted to do it properly, leaving no room for my hospitality to be called into question.

"The ladies and I will leave you to your drink and discussion," I said, but Ronson was already circling the table toward me. "You may find us in the blue parlor."

"Oh no, you don't," my alpha purred, grinning. "We'll join you there now."

"My lord," Palmer protested.

"You've had my answer since you arrived. No. Millward and Buchanan have the resources they need and my offer of capital. You have no resources and no need of capital." Ronson's arm slid around my middle, cupping my waist and leading me to the door, the rest of the room following suit. "Let that be the end of the discussion and the start of a more pleasant evening."

I tried to free myself from Ronson's grasp and take his arm, as would be polite, but his grip was too firm. At least it was only Beatrice behind us.

"What if it was not your capital being offered? They want a share of the profits, don't they?" I asked in a whisper.

Ronson glanced down at me, brow furrowing. "That would be a solution. I'll speak to Millward and Buchanan first. Thank you, Mairwen."

I blushed. "You were having too much fun thwarting them."

"I hope you've been doing the same," Ronson said, fingers squeezing my hip.

I hummed and shrugged, and Ronson let out a small, stifled growl.

"I should've sent Bea to⁠—"

"No," I hissed, shaking my head. "No, I'm fine, Ronson. It's better if I am the one with your guests." If Beatrice had been the one to keep Adelaide company this afternoon, it would only have given the betas reason to think Ronson didn't have confidence in me.

"Very well, but I insist on having my omega's attention for the rest of the evening," Ronson said, not bothering to lower his voice by the end.

He dotes well, I thought, unable to hide my smile as Ronson settled me in a cozy armchair near a stack of books I'd left on a table the week before. I liked the blue parlor best in the evenings. It looked over the island rather than the sea, all the delicate lights of homes and the farther towns sparkling and fading over the course of hours.

Gamesby was doting too, or mimicking the concept as he hurried Adelaide onto a chaise, fetching her a blanket.

"You see, Lord Cadogan, I had hoped to share a toast with you, celebrating our good fortune," Gamesby said, too loud for it to escape anyone's notice, even as Niall and the other betas sat down to a card game.

Ronson sighed, his back to the room as he poured us drinks by the bar cabinet. "I don't see why we can't do so⁠—"

"For our dragonkin community is shortly to celebrate another entry to society," Gamesby continued, rushing the words over Ronson's, his hand clamped on Adelaide's shoulder.

Whatever reception Gamesby expected, it probably wasn't for Ronson to turn, two short glasses of whiskey in one hand, and stride toward him with a calm expression on his face—not a smile, those were rare.

"Congratulations are indeed in order," Ronson said, passing Gamesby one of the glasses and then tapping his own lightly against the rim. He offered Adelaide a brief bow, and her eyes widened. "I wish your family the very best."

The pair were silent, Gamesby's fixed smile tightening and Adelaide's cheeks flushing slightly. Ronson returned to my side, offering me a small glass of sweet brandy, a syrupy heat on my tongue that we'd discovered I liked best. He leaned against the high back of my chair, one hand dangling down to toy with a braided loop at the nape of my neck.

"We are…very lucky to know so soon," Adelaide said, straightening. She found my eyes and held them. "And certainly, we will be delighted to raise our son in the same generation as the alpha's. When do you plan to announce, Mouse?"

Ronson's hand tensed, tugging briefly on my hair before stroking over the side of my throat in apology. It struck me, in the sudden inhale of breath that circled the room, that of course this had been their aim. Had Ronson succeeded? In spite of his choice of omega, in spite of their efforts to distract him, would the alpha produce an heir this year?

And I was the only person in the room who knew for certain if such a thing was even possible.

I glanced up at Ronson and found his gaze already hunting mine, an urgency there, a worry. I would've given anything to banish the others in the room and ask him what he was thinking, to dive into his head and know the absolute truth of his thoughts.

"I admire your curiosity, but you know as well as I do that any announcement is too precious to precede in a parlor. The island will know as one when the time comes," I said, doing my best to hold my calm as I turned back to Adelaide.

Her eyes narrowed, and I refused to flinch.

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