Текст книги "The Alpha of Bleake Isle"

Автор книги: Kathryn Moon

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Chapter FortyMAIRWEN

Ipaced in front of Ronson's office, pausing every so often to let the rustle of my skirts and wings settle, hoping I might make out some of the softly-spoken words from the other side of the door.

This was silly. Ronson had offered to let me sit in on the conversation with my father. Except I was afraid of what I might hear, that I might try to influence Ronson in the wrong direction. I did love my parents and I understood that they loved me, but there were pieces of our relationship that were broken, and if my father had schemed with Gamesby and Palmer against Ronson, I didn't want to excuse those actions.

My mother's voice trembled from inside the office, and my hands twisted in front of me. I hadn't wanted to see them yet, not until after Ronson had made his decision. Father had likely seen me transform, and according to Niall, there were already several rumors floating around the island regarding the golden dragon who'd flown in a lather across the sky yesterday. Rumors about the incarceration of the betas who'd attacked Ronson too. Already dragonkin and humans were gathering in the festival field, waiting for our arrival, for the answers to their many growing questions.

The door cracked, and I startled, stepping back out of the way. It was Niall who exited the office rather than Ronson, and I breathed a sigh of relief as he offered me a reassuring smile.

"Coming in?" he asked softly, tipping his head back into the room.

A small part of me, the part society called Mouse, wanted to scurry back up to my rooms or into the library. I shook my head and rolled my sore shoulders, my wings flexing as I stepped forward. Ronson had taken me flying in the dark the night before, getting in enough practice for me to be steady on my own. He wanted me to fly with him for the announcement this afternoon, for the island to see me as a dragon in my own right. Beatrice and I had even done a little clumsy work to one of my dresses to make it acceptable in the meantime, splitting open the shoulder seams and two slits down the back before relacing it around my wings.

Better not to delay, I reminded myself, then walked into the office.

My mother gasped, falling down into the chair behind her, but my father remained standing, eyes wide.

"It's true," he murmured, stepping forward and then freezing. "I could barely believe what I'd seen, but…"

"Wings… I read a-a silly story once where an omega had wings," my mother murmured, her stare glazed as it traveled across one of my wings and then the other.

My eyebrows rose in surprise. "I wondered if some traces must've remained, in literature or art." I shrugged and my wings moved with me, and both of my parents stifled another gasp, as if they still weren't quite sure if they could believe their own eyes.

"I-I owe you…many apologies, Mairwen," my father said as he took two more tremulous steps forward, almost as if he were afraid of me. I suppose I had been fairly fearsome when I'd transformed in front of him. "Most pressingly for allowing Palmer's influence to coerce me here yesterday."

I glanced at Ronson behind his desk, and he offered a subtle nod. He believed my father. That was a relief.

"If you hadn't come, I might not have realized Ronson was under attack," I said. I shifted toward my father, wondering if he would flinch back, but he only heaved out a breath and lurched, meeting me halfway, circling his arms around me in a tight hug.

"I thought you'd leapt to your death," he whispered, a fragile tear in the words.

"Mairwen's arrival certainly settled the matter amongst the betas. We are the strength of two dragons," Ronson said firmly, smiling at me.

It had been literal after all. A mated alpha had another dragon at his side, fighting with him, making him stronger. And according to Ronson, I made a formidable addition to his strength, which was a compliment I hadn't expected to enjoy so much. It was nice to be considered ferocious instead of forgettable.

I was a dragon. The alpha's mate. Ronson's siren. My spine straightened, and the tension in my chest faded away.

"Could we have a moment alone?" I asked Ronson.

"Of course." Ronson rounded his desk, reaching me without a moment of hesitation as he drew me closer, lips grazing over my brow. "I'll be in the hall with Niall."

I lifted my face to kiss his jaw before he slipped out of the room, leaving me alone with my parents. It was quiet in the room, the sun cutting through the window panes, stretching across Ronson's desk to reach the three of us.

"May I…may I touch?" My mother's hand was outstretched, hovering next to my right wing, and I fought the urge to tuck them close.

This was a small sample of how the isle might respond—the disbelief, the curiosity, the wariness. There would be outrage too, I was sure. Omegas were meant to be dainty and delicate and talented at pouring tea and stitching. We weren't meant to be dragons.

But we were dragonkin, so perhaps it was time for society to catch back up.

"You may," I said, flexing my wing open, letting it butt into my mother's fingers. She gasped, her hand retreating and then returning.

"My goodness. My word. Oh, Agnes Hubbard will be quite envious," my mother said, finishing with a trilling laugh. "She always did think wings were a waste on gentlemen. They never have so many things to do as an omega."

My father's eyes were fixed to my face rather than my wings, searching me, studying. "Can you forgive me, Mairwen?"

My mother startled, retreating to his side, glancing between us, delivering that watery, pleading stare to me, urging me to say yes.

"I will forgive you for coming here with Palmer, for letting his words twist your judgment," I said.

My mother sighed, a tremulous smile offered to my father, but he was still watching me.

"But?" he prompted.

I wet my lips, wondering if might be better to bid them goodbye for now, to push no further. I didn't need their support. I couldn't, wouldn't go back in time to change anything, but only because I had what I needed and wanted most now. Still…

"But…I wish that it hadn't taken someone else—a stranger to me, to you—to see that I was not wrong, or inappropriate, or less than the other omegas," I said softly, drawing a deep breath and continuing before they might interject. "I wish not that I had been enough for you both, because I was always enough. I wish that when all others had found fault in me, you had loved me as your daughter, exactly as I was, so that I might've loved myself too."

My mother's breath caught, her eyes wide, tears slipping free. "Mairwen," she murmured, and I wasn't sure if it was a plea, or an objection, or a refusal of what I spoke.

I shook my head. "I am not the wrong size, and I'm not strange. I am beautiful, I have a perfume, I have a nice singing voice, and I do know my place. It is here, with the alpha. With my mate."

"We see that, Mairwen," my father said, dipping his head. "We see that now."

I nodded, smoothing my hands over my skirts. "I can't say I won't forgive you for how long it took. I think I am the forgiving sort, and I do love you both…but I haven't yet. That will take more time."

My mother was flushed, avoiding my gaze, but my father would soothe her shame in private. He reached for me and I accepted, squeezing his hand in mine. I didn't know exactly when I would be ready to see them again, to risk another dinner, but I did know that I would not shrink or fall silent or fail to defend myself again. Ronson would take up arms for me, if I asked it, but I was strong enough on my own too, and now I knew as much.

The crowd was far larger than I'd expected, fuller even than the day of the selection, although Niall had said those crowds had thinned out over the decades, since Ronson never elected to take an omega for himself before me. But this must've been every soul on the isle. Perhaps even some travelers from the nearby port. All here to see me.

To gawk at the omega with wings.

"Mating is natural to dragonkin, an honored practice we lost over time and one I am wholly grateful to discover with my own omega," Ronson continued, his voice loud but unable to cut through the murmurs and mutterings of our audience.

His expression grew darker by the moment, and I resisted the urge to fidget at his side. Niall had arranged for the pamphlets we'd had printed to be passed around, but it was clear that most people were discarding them or tucking them away.

They didn't care about Ronson biting me, or that I was his mate. They cared that they were looking at a woman with wings. The more he spoke, the more restless they grew.

When Ronson took a steadying breath, a rough voice rose up from the crowd, accent strange and thick.

"Wings look damned fake to me!"

My eyebrows rose, and I turned to Ronson, whose eyes were full of irate fire. His body tensed, as if prepared to launch himself into the crowd and fight whoever had spoken.

"Show us yer dragon, then!"

I squinted and found movement in the crowd, a figure in a strangely heavy cloak shifting from one spot to another. Their head lifted briefly, revealing a pronounced nose and a roguish smile.

Seamus DeRoche…egging on the crowd?

No…

Encouraging me.

Let them see me, my dragon purred, shifting restlessly, hot in my chest. Show them my beauty and my claws.

I squeezed Ronson's hand, his teeth bared in a snarl, and he calmed again with one smile from me. The crowd quieted into sudden silence as I stepped forward.

"Very well," I said, and a collective breath was stolen, a great shift in the air, anticipation electric.

I hadn't transformed since Ronson coaxed my dragon back after yesterday's fight, but she was there in my chest, ready and eager, equally amused with Seamus's scheming.

Ronson tugged at our hands to catch my attention, searching my face for a moment before relaxing, satisfied that I was comfortable. "I'll give you room," he said, stepping back and then surging forward for a firm kiss that made our audience titter.

My eyes slid shut as I opened to him, but he was gone too quickly and the entire island was looking at me now. I took a deep breath, steeling myself against the inevitable censure and alarm of their stares, then reopened my eyes.

They're small. Just snacks, my dragon soothed me easily.

And through her eyes, the crowd on the ground, the notable dragonkin in the winged risers that surrounded the field, were only strange human faces, ones she couldn't even tell apart.

I released my breath slowly, and heat circled me, crackling in my ear and raising the fine hairs on my skin. I'd wondered if transforming was painful for Ronson, and while there was a discomfort in the expansion, the truth was simpler. My dragon reached out to part the curtain of one small, fragile form and to reveal the strength within. I moaned, and the sound was low and rattling. My wings spread back, huge and majestic, and my face rose high to the sky, stretching up, up, up, until the sun glinted off my horns.

The stage beneath me groaned at my weight, and I huffed a chuckle as the audience—their faces so tiny now, their eyes so wide, their collective scent far too potent—swirled and gasped and fluttered like a little flock of agitated birds upon a field of seed.

"Beautiful."

I turned my head, cocking it to catch the sight of my mate approaching my side, smiling up at me, his voice clear above the rest. His hand stroked the tough hide and scales of my leg, and the touch was as light as a feather, almost ticklish, but it was his hand on me, so I hummed with pleasure.

"Fly," he said.

Yes, let them see how strong we are. How lovely. Let them watch our flight.

I needed no further encouragement. My legs bent and my wings beat, and the stage heaved out a wheeze of relief as the audience shrieked in excitement and I took to the air.

At last. At last. At last.

The sun on my scales was as warm as my alpha's stare, the air under my wings as rich and silken as the sea. I spiraled higher, Ronson's voice growing smaller below.

"Mating is our true dragonkin gift. It is the true strength of our blood. It gives our omegas their own power, their own flight, and the safety to bear our sons and daughters without the great risk to their lives."

I twirled in the air, flying easier and more instinctive in this form, and a soft sound of appreciation circled the voices below me.

"It is a permanent bond, a lifetime, my lifetime devoted to my perfect match."

Pretty words, I thought, in tandem with my dragon now. Let's hear some more.

I circled back down, a little sorry to land and give up my transformation so soon, but my dragon relented easily, patient to wait for more time in the air. I shifted once over the stage, the crowd large below me, my back and wings tired, my skirts floating out around me.

I slapped my hand over my skirts to settle them back down and struggled to catch my descent for a moment. I would need to start wearing clothes more similar to those I'd worn on the way to the Flight of Alphas if I was going to be flying around the island. Ronson was reaching for me as I lowered down to the ground. His hand caught my hips, and my wings tucked in, grateful for the support at the last moment. My feet touched the stage, and Ronson's arm circled my waist tightly, his forehead dropping to mine.

The isle was quiet now. They would have questions—I certainly still did—but they couldn't refute that I was a dragon. I reached up and stroked my hands over his cheeks and jaw.

"We knew this wouldn't be easy," I whispered.

Ronson nodded, planting a kiss on the bridge of my nose. "I'm not afraid of the work," he answered. "I have you."

I fought my smile to kiss him softly and then pushed at his chest. "Go on, then."

Ronson sighed, keeping me in his grasp for a moment longer before finally releasing me and turning to the island. Someday, probably not so long from now, I would raise my voice with his, be as much a part of the role of alpha as he was. For today, I took a step back, finding Niall at my back.

"Did you suggest that to Seamus?" I whispered.

Niall huffed, shifting a step up to my side. "Perhaps."

Ronson cleared his throat, wings spreading at his side, shoulders back and chest broad. He stood with such natural authority, just as he had in a little drawing room for an afternoon gathering a few months ago. The Alpha of Bleake Isle.

My mate.

The man who shared his secrets and laughter with me, who loved me playfully and with starving hunger and incredible, patient kindness.

"There will be no future selection ceremony," Ronson said, voice full and firm, continuing before the shock of the statement could raise new voices. "I have my mate and no need of another omega. From now on, ladies, any gentleman who seeks your company ought to work quite hard to earn your favor. Any choices made will be yours, and you may seek my authority, or my mate's," he added, twisting to smile briefly back at me, "if that right is challenged. May all of the isle dragonkin find such happiness and completion as I have."

I blushed but tried to remain serene in my spot.

"He's getting better at speeches," Niall noted as Ronson continued. "And it only took half a century."

The door to the bedroom closed, and I stirred from my book at the rough sigh that announced my mate's arrival. I glanced at the candle at my side and realized it'd been hours since I'd come up to wait for him while he dealt with more panic from the betas.

"They gave up?" I asked, setting my book aside, open and face down.

Ronson groaned, sagging against the door. "Hardly. I banished them for the night. Have I told you today what a brilliant, magnificent blessing you are?"

"You have," I said, grinning, folding my knees up against my chest and wrapping my arms around them. I was in my favorite armchair in our bedroom, but now I had to sit in it sideways to let my wings drape over one arm. "First was this morning, because…well, you know…"

Ronson's gaze grew hot. "Ah, yes. I remember. A very thoughtful way to wake a man up."

"And then, of course, before the announcement to the isle. After too," I said, now counting on my fingers.

Ronson nodded. "Naturally. You did so well."

"And then once more before I came up to bed. What was it that earned me the praise again now?"

"Agnes Hubbard," Ronson said, finally pushing away from the door, hurrying to pull at the shoulders of his shirt.

"Ah," I said, nodding.

"I only had to do half the talking. Give that woman an inch of authority, and she uses it with the most shocking precision and efficiency I've ever seen in my life," Ronson said. "And she knows so many of the betas' mothers. Her threats were elaborate, artistic even."

I rested my cheek on my knee, watching Ronson undress, carelessly tossing his clothes in one direction and another. I had suggested that before agreeing to meet with any betas—who would undoubtedly argue every single change we had just announced—we ought to put some omegas on the Lord's Council and make it an Isle Council. Agnes Hubbard was the obvious first choice.

"Half of them have folded under her force…for now," Ronson said, kicking his linen undergarments aside and falling backward into the nest with a heaving sigh. He lay there for a moment, and I wondered if he'd fall asleep like that, exhausted by the day. But his head popped up, brow furrowed and lips just nearly suggesting a pout. "Why are you over there? Come here. I need to taste you," he said, patting his chest.

My body warmed in agreement, but I rose slowly, leaving my shawl on the chair and joining him in the bed, although not in quite the way he'd suggested. Instead, I circled to the other side, crawling up to hover my face over his so he was looking at me upside down.

"We will wear them down," I said, brushing my fingers through Ronson's hair. His eyes slid shut, and his purr thrummed in his chest.

"And we will build the omegas up. Until dragonkin learns to stand on even footing."

My heart ached, and I ducked my head, brushing kisses over every inch of Ronson's face.

"There is no better man than you. No better alpha," I murmured.

"No better lover," Ronson prompted.

"Presumably. I wouldn't know," I teased, squawking a laugh as Ronson growled and sat up, twisting and quickly wrestling me down beneath him, his grin sharp and his hair ruffled in all directions from my fingers. "What a pretty speech you gave. How nice for the omegas to have their choice," I continued, squirming with breathless gasps as Ronson snarled and groped, snapping kisses against my cheeks and jaws, until I found myself spread beneath him, my slip torn up to my waist.

Ronson paused there, hips pressed to mine, just a few inches from being inside of me, gaze blazing and smile wide. "Do you think I won't work hard every day to deserve you, mate?"

I sighed, and he released my hands so I could touch his face, draw it down to mine, our lips parting and tongues meeting familiarly with grateful moans to taste one another again.

"You do deserve me," I breathed, rocking my hips up to his, trying to draw him into me. "As I deserve you."

Ronson's eyes lit up. "Ohh, my sweet little omega knows how to please her mate. And I will prove I know how to please you," he said, rewarding my little words of confidence with the slow drive inside of me, my gasp of relief mingling with the slick sound of our bodies joining. "Every day, Mairwen. Every day of our lives."

"Closer, alpha. Come closer to me," I pleaded, circling my arms around his shoulders and my legs around his hips.

And when we were as close as we could be, wings held and hips snug and lips open to one another, I knew I was precisely where I was meant to be.

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EpilogueRONSON

ONE HUNDRED & FIFTY YEARS LATER

The moon was perfectly framed by the window, just a sliver of silver sea visible at the bottom edge. Mairwen stirred in my arms, and my lips curved up, strangely pleased that we were both still awake. Every moment, even the still and silent ones, were precious to me, but especially tonight, our last night in the nest Mairwen had built me so long ago.

"Are you nervous about tomorrow?" she whispered.

I laughed, combing my fingers through her hair, sorting through the tangles I'd created just a bit ago. "What do I have to be nervous about?"

Mairwen puffed a sound of annoyance. "It doesn't matter to you who wins the challenge?"

I sighed and considered. "It does, but…I'm confident the right person will. A right person. We have a lot to choose from."

"As long as it isn't Bernard Davies," Mairwen muttered.

I scoffed. "He doesn't stand a chance."

Mairwen shifted, rolling half onto my chest and propping her chin up on the backs of her hands. "I know Blair thinks it should be him because he's the oldest," she breathed so softly, as if our son were in the room and might hear her otherwise, "but I do think one of the others stands a good chance."

I hummed in agreement. All of our children would make a good alpha for the isle. Which was why I was less concerned with which one and more eager to simply enjoy my retirement. At last. I wanted my remaining years—and plentiful I hoped they would be—spent traveling the world with my mate. Or just lazing about in bed with her as she read me books. Either option was promising.

Our tiny island, with a home just for the two of us an easy flying distance away from the isle—not so close as to threaten the new alpha—was ready and waiting for our arrival. Mairwen hadn't seen the house yet, and I was looking forward to her reaction. Perversely, I hoped it was not quite up to scratch. I wanted my omega to boss me about on improvements. Mairwen was magnificent when she was determined to have her way. I'd admired her management of the isle and our brood of little dragons for a century and a half, and now I was looking forward to her managing me, and me alone.

I'd always been greedy where Mairwen was concerned.

Her finger prodded my chest, drawing my attention back to the present. "Go on. You must have a favorite."

I laughed, reaching down to squeeze Mairwen's full bottom—fuller now than when I'd met her. Deliciously so.

"I will tell them you asked that," I said, hissing as she pinched my nipple in retaliation. "I don't have a favorite. Not of ours. And I do hope it stays in the family…"

"Because you don't want them to come moaning to you if they don't win," Mairwen said.

I nodded. "Precisely. But I will say that even if the Millward boy does win, at least the isle will still be in good hands."

Mairwen hummed, softening against me, settling in for sleep at last. "Arran will struggle with the feats of strength, but I think he might still come out ahead when it comes to the rest of the challenge."

We were quiet for a moment, my fingers still carding slowly through her long hair. "Mairwen?"

"Mm?"

"Have you noticed that Iona has been…cagey lately?"

Mairwen's breath hitched, and she nodded slowly.

"Do you think she'll enter?" I asked, now whispering too.

"Would you mind if she did?" Mairwen asked in that delicate way that meant she already knew the answer to my question.

It didn't take me long to decide. I shook my head. "She would make a good alpha. It would change things. Again," I added with a chuckle.

"A lot has already changed," Mairwen said with a sleepy sigh.

"Mm…that's time passing, I suppose. A great deal more change to come, I'm sure."

Mairwen's hand lifted, reaching back to catch mine, tangling our fingers together and resting our hands over my chest. "But not this, my love."

I smiled, stretching my head up for a moment to kiss the top of her head. "No, my darling mate. Never this."

The End

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