Текст книги "The Alpha of Bleake Isle"

Автор книги: Kathryn Moon

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Текущая страница: 22 (всего у книги 24 страниц)

Squash this pest first, then rescue my mate, I thought, and I soared through the air, chest full of pride and fire.

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Chapter Thirty-EightRONSON

Igrunted and snarled, twisting toward the dragon that had just jutted its horns into my right flank, snapping forward to bite. Claws swiped at my left wing and I roared and flailed briefly, irritated and tired, swarmed by too many enemies at once.

I shouldn't have told Niall to go.

Gamesby hadn't been issuing a challenge. He'd come for a cold-blooded mutiny. And I sent away my only chance of a witness.

But I wasn't dead yet. Gryffyd Evans was crumpled on the ground, leg broken and unconcious. Tybalt Dunne had a broken tail, and in spite of catching my wing, his own on the right was nearly done for. One more good hit, and I would ground him.

Unfortunately, that still left me⁠—

A large, heavy body threw itself into my side, and my flight faltered, sagging in surprise, giving Gamesby time to gouge his claws into my belly. But no matter what he wanted to believe, he wasn't as strong as me. He hadn't fought my father for the role of alpha—he wouldn't have survived that challenge. And I didn't intend to let him survive this mutiny.

I belted fire and charged forward, rolling us midair, letting his claws dig in to hold him against me and turn him onto his back. He released me then, twisting and diving, trying to stay out of the reach of my claws, but they caught his spine, tearing down his dense hide—not serious damage, but enough to make him scream in protest. Jaws gripped my tail, but I ignored them, finishing my swipe at Gamesby before turning to address Cambeth's bite.

I would survive.

I would win, and then I would have a very good reason for taking these men, these thorns in my side, and stripping them of their titles and their lands, locking them up, and putting them through a humiliating court of justice. If they had omegas and children, I would put all their properties and assets in the women's hands.

I kicked Cambeth away, bit through Tybalt's wing, wrestled Julian into a retreating somersault, and turned back to Gamesby. If I could finish him off, the others would likely back down. I just needed to⁠—

A roar sounded at a short distance, rolling through the air to reach us, and a shiver raced down my back. Gamesby and I grappled at one another, and I allowed him to spin me around, just so I could see the dragon approaching.

My heart sank.

The beast was enormous. And it wasn't Seamus or Torion, which meant it was likely someone here to assist Gamesby. I might be able to beat these four—no, three now; Tybalt was grounded—dragons, but not if this fearsome creature came to help them.

I had never seen such a dragon before. Could it have been from a different isle? Even Gamesby had lost focus, and for a moment we all caught our breath, hovering above the ground.

Their golden scales shone brilliantly under sunlight, and the large body was adorned with sharp horns, their color dipped in the blue-green of the surrounding sea. The bones of their wings were thick, the sweeping motion long and a little uneven, but the talons on the tips were deadly looking.

And then the dragon tipped its head and roared again, an eye like gleaming honey and amber blinking.

Mate, she cried in that thunderous voice.

Mairwen.

I answered the desperate call, a great echo of triumph, shock rippling through me in equal measure with joy and wonder.

That dragon was my mate.

My mate was rushing closer, headed to join me in a fight against three other dragons.

Suddenly, it didn't matter that I'd known a moment ago that she could outclass me. If a single one of the betas around me so much as scratched one of those perfect golden scales, I would tear them to pieces. My wings drummed, and I charged at Gamesby, grabbed his neck in my jaw, and shook him hard, hearing his fangs rattle together.

Behind me came a crash of claws and scales, and a roar that vibrated through my bones announcing my mate's arrival to the fight. I twisted, swinging Gamesby by my grasp on his throat, just enough to watch Mairwen land on Cambeth's dragon, to hear his rough yelp of pain as her body bore him down to the ground. Julian swirled around her head, the fool, and she butted roughly into his belly, her deadly crown scratching at the sensitive scales there.

Fools! her dragon snarled, jaws snapping. Dead fools.

Gamesby scratched a claw up my ankle, and I tore my focus away from Mairwen. Well…most of it. But she was magnificent! I could've left her all three of them, and she would've held her own. Now I simply wanted to make her proud. I tossed Gamesby from my jaws and then rose high, catching him once more by the shoulders before he could plan another attack. He screamed, thrashing in the grip of my claws, but he couldn't fly with the roots of his wings held tightly.

On the ground, Tybalt Dunne had transformed back to a man, his wings folded in close and hands lifting up to his mouth. "Come down, Julian! We're better off running now. Gamesby hasn't a chance."

Rivals as the brothers often were, Julian listened, rising up out of Mairwen's dangerous reach and then diving down to his brother. Cambeth surrendered too, slack in Mairwen's grip, his lack of resistance and her strength carrying them down to the ground. Which left me with Gamesby.

I should kill him, I thought, shaking him in my grasp. On the ground below, Mairwen's dragon watched us, glowing eyes narrowed in anger.

My father would've killed a man like Gamesby for challenging him, for planning a mutiny outside of any legal and honorable channels. Which cleared some of the fog in my mind. I was not my father. And Gamesby hadn't chosen a challenge. He'd chosen a murder attempt. With men on the ground that could testify as much and be charged as well. I grinned toothily at Mairwen as I looked down to see her spiked tail curved around the Dunne twins, preventing their escape.

I raised my own tail, striking it roughly against the side of Gamesby's tough face, hearing his scream as one daggered tip scratched his eye. A distant roar heralded the arrival of more dragons, and the dark inky-blue wingspan was that of an ally.

Gamesby groaned and shuddered, and I dropped him to the ground as he transformed. I followed him down, noting the bloodstains on his shoulders and side, the eye I had scratched, and then pinned him carefully under one clawed paw. Mairwen huffed a breath of fire in his direction, singeing some of the honey-blond strands and drawing a whimper from the man. Her jaw lifted, and I ducked my head down to hers, nuzzling her chin, avoiding her dangerous spikes and puffing my breath, catching some of that warm scent of hers, now candied and darkened with dragon's fire.

"I yield," Gamesby wheezed beneath me.

I spat near his head, and it sizzled in the grass. Yielding was for legal fights.

"Ronson! Fang's fire, who is that?!" Niall shouted from above.

I looked up to see my brother on DeRoche's back, Torion's dragon not far behind. They were headed straight for us, and DeRoche's fangs were exposed as he snarled at Mairwen's dragon.

I transformed quickly, kicking Gamesby hard in his wounded side to keep him down, nodding at Mairwen when she put her own claws on his back.

"You're too late for a fight," I called back, then pointed at the deep blue dragon barreling closer. "Don't you dare let your fire loose, DeRoche, or I'll skin you for hurting my mate!"

DeRoche floundered for a moment mid-flight and then slowed to cruise, Niall leaping from his back to finish his journey down to the ground.

"Mairwen?!" he gasped, jogging closer, wings occasionally lifting him for a few beats.

He gaped at Mairwen's dragon, who blinked slyly back at him, a burst of sea blue beneath her golden gaze. From my perspective on the ground, as a man again, she was even more remarkable than before. The red of the other dragons' blood that had spattered her form glowed against her scales, each one painted in shades of fire and treasure. Her horns were like sapphires in precious metals, the faintest iridescence at their ends.

"What happened?" Niall asked me.

I stared at Mairwen and shook my head. "I haven't the faintest idea. She just arrived and made quick work of the fight. Gamesby said he yields. Didn't you, my lord?"

"Get it off me," Gamesby snarled weakly, and I thought Mairwen might've been using more of her weight than was strictly necessary. Cambeth transformed back and crawled out from under her, but he fell slack to the ground, bleeding and pale.

Seamus and Torion approached from behind, staring up at Mairwen.

"It can't really be…" Torion murmured, dropping a sack to the ground with a heavy thump and the rattle of metal. Black steel, I suspected, to cuff the men before us, keep them from transforming back into dragons.

"It's her," I said.

Seamus's lips just twitched, and his arms crossed over his chest. He spoke to Mairwen directly. "We found a dragon barely alive in the sea near the castle. Was that your work?"

Mairwen huffed in confirmation and her wings stretched and flexed, Gamesby groaning beneath her foot. My brow furrowed, and I hurried to her. "A dragon? Who was it? What happened?!"

She rumbled and shifted, head tossing, and I realized the woman was trapped in the beast, unable to answer me when our forms didn't match.

"Grab them," I said, pointing to the betas. Torion dragged the bag of chains over, and Mairwen released her prey one by one, sighing as I stroked a hand over her side. "Mairwen, darling, can you shift back?"

Mairwen's feet stepped restlessly over the ground, wings rising and lowering in a shrug. This was new for her, and if she'd been fighting, if she'd transformed because of a threat, her dragon had likely taken over for her. I spread my arms, and her head lowered, breath hot on my belly as she huffed and let me embrace her snout. Around us, the men watched, the betas and even Torion, with disbelief in their eyes.

"It's all right now. You're safe," I murmured. Mairwen grunted and nudged me gently, nearly knocking me off my feet. I laughed and rubbed firmly between two horns. "Fine. I'm safe now. See? They're all secured in steels. Give me back my pretty mate," I said in a low whisper, just for her.

Mairwen grumbled and then shuddered. I'd never been so close to a dragon when they transformed before, and I winced, bracing myself at the pound of magic sweetened with Mairwen's scent. Wind struck me hard in the back, air filling the place where Mairwen's dragon had been, and I ran forward, catching the woman in my arms as she reappeared.

Catching her…and finding a slight impediment.

Wings.

Mairwen's wings were a slightly more burnished shade of gold than her scales, and they flailed briefly, lifting her off her toes before snapping shut and dropping her back down again.

"Oh my," she gasped, steadying herself with a grip on my shoulder.

I couldn't restrain my grin. "You're stunning. You're so beautiful. Mairwen⁠—"

She blushed and ducked her head, raising one hand to cover my lips. "Alpha, please," she hissed, glancing around us. I turned and took in the thunderstruck expressions. The only person not absolutely flabbergasted to see an omega with her own wings was DeRoche. Which meant…somehow, somewhere, he'd seen them before. Interesting.

But not as important to me as the woman in my arms.

"Who was it, darling?" I asked again.

"Palmer," she rasped. "He said…he said you might be dead, and I⁠—"

I squeezed Mairwen against my chest, knuckles brushing the inside of her wings and finding her leather soft. "What did you do with him?" I asked DeRoche. "The dragon you found in the sea."

"Fished him out, left him with my crew. He's no threat at the moment, if he's even still alive, and I'll get word to have him brought here. What will you do with the others?" DeRoche asked, nodding his head at the remaining five traitors, most too beaten to move and all now in chains.

"They'll be jailed for now. Torion, can you take some? We don't usually have large-scale mutiny to deal with," I said.

"Of course," Torion answered. "The keep has an uncomfortable abundance of strong cells."

"You'll have a trial?" Niall asked me, raising an eyebrow.

I was within my rights to have them executed on my orders. Gamesby glared at me, knowing as much.

"It may be the same outcome in the end," I said, partly to warn the betas. "But yes, I want their crimes to be known to the island. And their defeat."

"And what of her?" Gamesby spat. "Will you want the island to know of that abomination?"

Mutiny, I might tolerate temporarily. But slights against my mate?

I released Mairwen with a gentle kiss on her brow, then turned and marched for Gamesby. He was goading me now, begging for a swift end. But he deserved to be publicly humiliated, starting with⁠—

My arm swung, and DeRoche held the beta steady by the wing roots, giving him no way of dodging the punch. Gamesby shouted a garbled yell as his face was snapped roughly to the side by the force of my fist.

"You'll be busy rotting in prison, Gamesby, but yes, I plan on celebrating my mate with all of the isle's dragonkin," I said.

"Ronson," Mairwen called, and I turned to find her with a weary and unimpressed expression on her face.

"Apologies, but that was overdue, my love," I said, returning to her side. "Niall, I'll trust you and the alphas to escort these gentlemen to prison."

"Of course," Niall said with a low nod. "You're all right, Omega Cadogan?"

Mairwen was swaying slightly, her eyes glassy and pupils huge, and she blinked away whatever thoughts were busying her mind to glance at my brother. "Fine," she said, her voice too high and tight. Her wings rustled and then squeezed to her back again, as if she surprised herself each time she remembered they were there.

"Are you injured?" I whispered, ignoring the movements of the others around us.

She shook her head and then frowned, glancing down at herself. Mairwen leaned in, and I wrapped my arms around her waist. "I feel as though I don't quite fit in my own skin," she whispered, looking up at me.

I nodded. "It will settle. I felt the same the first time I transformed." Granted, I'd only been thirteen at the time, and I'd known it was coming. "I'm going to fly us back home. Can you keep your wings against your back?"

Mairwen stiffened, clenching her whole body, and I fought my answering chuckle. She would grow used to her wings soon enough, but for now, it was cute to see the struggle.

"You don't seem surprised," Mairwen said as I scooped her up. Her wings were a slight impediment to carrying her and flying with her in my arms, and a new added weight, but not a serious struggle.

"Oh, I am shocked," I said, bending my knees and leaping as my wings thrust us upwards off the ground. "My dragon is not surprised, however, which makes the adjustment easier. Did you suspect?"

"I was starting to. The symptoms—the dizziness felt like the urge to…to fly, almost," Mairwen murmured, her hand rubbing over the back of my shoulders. I restrained my hiss as she stroked a wound, but she gasped and pulled her hand up, her wings flexing open in surprise and adding resistance to our flight. "You're hurt!"

"Just a scratch. Tuck your wings in, darling," I reminded her, laughing as they snapped shut again and Mairwen went rigid in my arms. "You'll get used to it, I promise."

"C-could I try flying?" Mairwen asked, cheeks flushed and eyes lowered.

Was my omega shy?

I squeezed one arm around her waist, pausing my flight to hover us and turn her carefully in my arms, adjusting my hold on her so her back was to my front, my body tucked between her wings. Her hands clutched over my arm around her waist, but her wings stretched slowly open.

"Stroke them through the air," I said.

Mairwen's wings flailed and flapped, and it took me a moment to balance us, to make up with my own flight for her awkward movements.

"Match their beats to your heart," I suggested.

"But my heart is racing!" Mairwen laughed.

I wrapped my arms around her more firmly and tipped us forward, Mairwen's wings snapping wide, braced against the air.

"Can you feel my heartbeat?" I asked. There was a pause as she considered. I was coasting us, letting us sink gradually, heading towards the edge of the isle. Mairwen nodded after a moment. "Then try and match that."

It took her a moment, and I probably impeded some movement, pressed so close to her back, but with a little trial and error she found the steady one-two rhythm to fly to, my own wings pausing to then match hers. We rose in the air, and Mairwen let out a bright giggle of excitement, faltering for a moment.

"Don't worry. It doesn't always take so much concentration. This is just new for you," I promised.

I'd learned to fly not long after learning to walk, if Beatrice could be believed. Most betas didn't really remember the learning part—it was part of our nature. I tried not to think about how lucky it was that Mairwen had even made it to me safely. Her dragon had seen her through.

Gradually, I eased my grip around her until I was only gently holding the sides of her waist. Mairwen was flying.

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Chapter Thirty-NineMAIRWEN

The wind dried the few tears that slipped from my eyes, and I tried to remember to breathe, but the ground was racing beneath us and my wings—my wings—were rushing through the air, every stroke caressing against new flesh. This was what I'd wanted all those hours of flying with Ronson, of watching the alphas transform. I'd wanted to fly.

Not to be flown or carried, or to ride on the back of a magnificent dragon. I'd wanted to be the magnificent dragon myself. And I was. I was soaring. I had dragon fire burning in my chest and claws that had fought enemy dragons back from my mate. My mate, who'd looked so…small to me when I'd been transformed.

A laugh broke out of my lungs and my flight wobbled, and I realized Ronson wasn't holding me now. I was on my own and⁠—

I yelped, wings slapping backwards, arms and legs flailing as if to make up the work.

A shadow rushed over me and then Ronson was there, catching me around my waist, making up for my imbalance with strong beats of his own wings.

"Tuck in," he said, grinning. My wings squeezed close to my back. "We'll practice together. But right now, I don't want you fighting for your life on the way back to the nest. Is that all right?"

My arms looped carefully over his shoulders, mindful of the wound I'd found earlier, and I tucked my head beneath his chin. I might've been a bigger dragon than him, but like this, Ronson was still reassuringly strong and much better at flying than me. And he always gave me a choice.

"Yes, that's all right," I murmured, breathing in his scent.

His arms tightened around me, a gentle crush. "Tell me how on earth this is possible. You're too clever not to have some idea."

I explained the portraits Beatrice and I had found, how some of the mated omegas were painted with wings, and even about Alpha Falk.

"All my symptoms hit at once when I realized you were under attack. I was fairly sure I knew what was coming, but it didn't occur to me that the wings would be a permanent addition after the transformation," I admitted.

Ronson growled and shook his head. "I would've rather you'd destroyed half the castle as a dragon than jump out of a window before you were completely certain of what was happening," he muttered, glaring down at me, but the anger cleared quickly. I was safe. He was safe. "Why do you think some of the omegas had dragons and others didn't?"

"Some betas can't transform," I mused. "But I wonder… I found in some of the documents that some mates were referred to as 'chosen,' and others not. I wasn't sure if it was just a turn of phrase, or…"

"Or if some alphas mated for the sake of an alliance rather than by instinct," Ronson murmured, nodding against the top of my head. "That would make sense. And you were certainly chosen. Chosen, claimed, always meant to be mine."

I smiled against his throat, kissed a mark to his pulse.

"You were glorious, Mairwen," he murmured.

I tipped my head back and found those dark eyes glowing warmly down at me. "I was, wasn't I?"

Ronson grinned and ducked his head, and I stretched to meet him. Kissing my mate felt a lot like flying.

"Poor Miss Pettyfer," I murmured, twisting and contorting in front of the mirror, stretching my wings this way and that to see the ruination of the back of my dress. My new stays at least had managed to survive, all straps and edges safely away from the roots of my wings. Which were tired and a little sore. Flying took so much work.

Ronson shut the door to our room behind him. "Beatrice has already sent word we'll need alterations. She thought of it before I did. And she said your father returned home after an hour of fretting. Mairwen…I…"

"You'll have to question him," I said, carefully shimmying out of my dress. Perhaps Miss Pettyfer might only have to replace the backs of my gowns rather than the entire garments. "I understand. Will you…will he…"

"He won't be put in prison yet," Ronson said, crossing to me and pulling me into his chest. He was right that any of his injuries were only surface marks, and I'd patched them up straight away when we'd arrived back at the nest. "If his inclination was to go home and not run for the docks, it's doubtful he has much to hide. Palmer probably only made use of him in the moment."

I sighed and nodded, rubbing my cheek over the soiled linen of Ronson's shirt. I hoped, for my parents' sake, that was true, but I wouldn't stand in the way of any decision Ronson had to make regarding my father. My loyalties were to my mate, and upon reflection, my family hadn't made that a strenuous choice.

"I love you," I whispered, my hands clutching against Ronson's lower back, wings tensing as if prepared for flight or another battle to protect him. "I was so afraid I would be too late."

Ronson soothed his hand over the back of my head. "Nonsense. I would never stop fighting, mate. Not while I have you to return to." His hand slipped under my chin, lifting it for me to meet his stare, soft crinkles in the corners of his eyes. "But I will never forget the sight of you soaring to rescue me. You are the most beautiful dragon I've ever set eyes on."

I warmed from the inside out. "Am I…am I a pretty dragon, then? I haven't seen."

"You were terrifying," Ronson said, and he laughed as I gasped in offense. "And yes, very pretty. You looked like very dangerous treasure."

Yes, we are treasure, her heavy voice purred in my head, approving of Ronson's description.

"We'll have to have a very large mirror crafted so you can see," he said.

I huffed. "Excuse you. 'Very large?'"

Ronson's belly laugh made my own lips twitch. "You're a dragon now, darling. Very large is ideal. Do you know, I think if you challenged me, you'd win. You could be alpha of the isle."

"I'll keep that in mind," I quipped, nudging him in the stomach, eyeing the nest around his shoulder.

Ronson took the hint with an answering purr, his hands on my arms guiding me along as he walked backward to our bed. "Niall would back you in the fight, no doubt. DeRoche too, the charming bastard."

I rolled my eyes and Ronson growled, tugging me hard against him and ducking down to slant his mouth over mine. I surrendered to the kiss. Strong as my dragon might be, I had no complaints with my alpha, certainly not enough for a challenge. Ronson's purr thickened as I opened to him, his fingers working quickly at my back, untying laces and groping sweetly at bare skin.

"Do you remember," he began with a pant and leaned back, feathering kisses over my cheeks, "our first night together?"

I blushed and nodded, recalling my unguarded curiosity, the strange power and triumph of having Ronson at my mercy. We'd barely known each other, really, but he'd let me touch and explore him, so eager and responsive. I'd never felt desire before, never been desired, and it was like opening the floodgates.

"The very first thing you asked to do was⁠—"

"Touch your wings," I said, smiling and reaching out to do so.

Ronson's purr thrummed steadily between us, and his gaze hooded. "It's my turn now, omega."

I opened my mouth but Ronson was quick, lifting me up by my waist and tossing me onto the mattress. My wings spread and flapped aimlessly, more like flailing arms still, and I let out an oof of breath as I landed in the pile of pillows and soft blankets.

"I'm not a sack of potatoes, Ronson," I scoffed, trying to hide my smile as I settled myself more comfortably.

"You most certainly are not," he agreed, climbing onto the bed, his knees on either side of my legs as he scooted up. His hand paused to squeeze appreciatively at my ass. "Spread your wings."

It took me a moment, slightly distracted by his hands kneading at my bottom and up my back. My wings stretched, and I sighed as they came to rest against my back and the bed. Ronson's hands worked their way up my spine, and I buried a groan of relief into my pillow.

"The muscles for our wings are thin but very strong. Yours will likely be sore after flights for a while, but that will ease quickly too. I'll take good care of you, my treasure," Ronson said, voice softening at the end.

I rested my cheek on my folded arms. "You always do."

"Your talons are exceptional," Ronson said, shifting over my back, one of my wings lifting briefly as he examined the talons at the ends of my wing bones. "I've never seen longer and sharper. And the blue tips remind me of the sea."

I wondered if I'd ever grow used to the profuse compliments Ronson was able to offer me. I hoped not.

A touch landed on the upper edge of my wing, and I startled in place, Ronson chuckling. "Sensitive?" he asked, his hand gently cupped around the thick ridge of bone and muscle and leather.

"Y-yes, and it's so…new. Your touch is suddenly reminding my body or-or my brain that it's there at all," I said, trying to twist to watch his gentle caress. I had wings, new limbs, and they had never been touched before this moment.

"Mmm. They're still soft," Ronson mused. "You still have the velvet on your hide. Wait here."

He slipped from the bed, and I lifted just enough to finish undoing my loose corset and then to shimmy out of my torn slip, kicking it down into the sheets. Ronson returned, purring with approval. I squeaked as it was his lips and not his hands that found the lower curve of my bottom, slow, wet kisses passed back and forth over my cheeks and up to the base of my spine. His tongue circled there for a moment and then vanished.

"Good girl, getting yourself ready for me. Now relax while I have my revenge," he said.

I shivered at the first brush of his fingertips over the flesh of my wing, the sensation still slightly foreign but no less arousing, and then moaned as he pushed my wings into a spread. I'd spent a long time studying his wings, and now that I knew just a small fraction of what it must've felt like, I was beginning to understand the true nature of his revenge.

"This will help keep the velvet soft and the leather from growing tight or dry," Ronson said, ignoring my buried whimpers as he rubbed the fragrant substance into my new skin. "Now we can tend to each other."

"Gamesby wasn't entirely wrong," I whispered, trying to distract myself from the deep thrills rushing up my wings, into my back, and down into my core.

"Mairwen," Ronson warned with a growl.

"Some of the island will be too shocked to accept an omega dragon," I said.

"They haven't a choice," he said firmly, but he settled his weight on the backs of my thighs and then sighed. "Some will balk, yes. But you are my omega, and I am their alpha. What's done is done. I wouldn't change a thing. You don't think any omegas might be envious of you?"

I blinked and propped my chin up. I hadn't thought of that. I wondered if perhaps there were other women on the island who would be pleased to see that an omega could have her own wings too. Francesca would've run riot with wings. Katharine would appreciate the dignity…

Adelaide. Adelaide would be jealous. Spitefully, marvelously, viciously green with envy. And humiliated once Gamesby's betrayal was revealed.

And pregnant. And alone.

My petty victory cooled quickly.

I sighed and stretched beneath Ronson. "We have to make changes, Ronson."

"We do. We will. Lift your wings for me, mate."

I did so and Ronson shifted, pausing at my side, his gaze traveling slowly over me, lips faintly curved. When his eyes met mine at last, his smile stretched.

"What are you thinking?" I asked, grinning and expecting wickedness in answer.

"That you are the most beautiful dragon, woman, omega, everything that I have ever had the incredible fortune to stumble across in my life," Ronson said, the answer soft and simple.

I blushed, but I didn't hide from him, just spread my wings a little more, shifting slightly to my side to offer him more to admire.

"If I recall correctly, I was the one who stumbled into you," I said.

Ronson laughed and bent, his arm circling my waist, lifting me up and over his lap. Our wings curled around us, meeting at the edges, the hooked talons at the top of the joints linking together like hands clasped.

"Right as usual, mate," he murmured, hiking me up slightly, our soft moans lost in a kiss as our bodies centered and joined in a smooth stroke. "Perfect as always. Mine."

"Yours," I whispered, gasping as our wings moved, dragon skin and velvet brushing together, a perfect private shelter created between them, light just barely stretching through the skin to make us a rosy cave to hide in. "As you are mine."

"Oh, yes," Ronson said, grunting as his hips hitched, grinding against me and making my own breath catch. "Yes, I've been yours ever since I caught you in my arms. Seduced by an ill-fitting corset."

It was patently absurd, so I hushed him with a kiss and held him deep inside me, rocking us softly to our pleasure.

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