Текст книги "The Alpha of Bleake Isle"

Автор книги: Kathryn Moon

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Chapter SixMAIRWEN

The castle spun around me. Partly because it had been almost a day since I'd had a meal I'd managed to keep down, and partly because of the incredible pace Lady Beatrice Cadogan set. She was half my size, and yet her mincing steps carried her through the twisting halls, up and down the endless staircases, as though she had a pair of wings to rival her brothers'. I couldn't catch my breath to ask her the questions that raced through me with every soaring and empty hall we passed through, every vast staircase we swept down and climbed up, all the ancient castle wings we crossed into, the dozens of faces we passed who stared eagerly.

I was sweating as we entered the colossal kitchens, down in the belly and feet of the castle. I was sure I looked more like the harried men and women who labored in the steam and blaze of the kitchen stoves, their faces flushed and brows dewed. This kitchen was the liveliest place I'd seen yet in the castle, full of more activity than all the other wings and halls combined, and I helped myself to a rare pause in Lady Beatrice's speech to gasp for air and take the space in. The room smelled understandably wonderful, warm loaves of bread being pulled out of ovens, herbs hanging from the rafters, meat sizzling on spits.

And in the middle of it all stood a tall, broad woman, barking orders and sampling salt. She glanced up at us, her eyes narrowing. She looked to be about middle-aged, the same as my mother, but somehow more vital, powerful. Almost as powerful as our alpha, I thought.

"This is she?" the woman snapped.

I looked over my shoulder before I remembered, of course I would be the she in question, the newest and most notable arrival to the castle. Which was all wrong, if I gave it too much thought.

Lady Beatrice nodded, gesturing between the slow approaching woman and myself.

"Omega Cadogan, Cook Guinney."

"Mairwen," I declared, determined to hold onto my name.

Cook Guinney paid no attention, but I thought I caught a smile from Lady Beatrice. "If you've changes for tonight's menu, you'd better have them out now. Tomorrow's too, for that matter," Cook Guinney groused up at me.

She grabbed a bound notebook from a worktable and brought it to the doorway where Lady Beatrice and I were safely out of the way of the workers.

"No changes tonight," I said quickly, because I wasn't stupid, but I helped myself to a glance at the open page of the notebook I was passed.

Meat, meat, meat, potatoes, bread. I snorted without thinking, and Cook Guinney cleared her throat. "The alpha needs good, hearty food for a rut."

I nodded, because it made sense, and there was something decidedly masculine about the simplicity of the fare. "Roast the potatoes with sprouts and carrots. And…" I stalled, searching around me, patting at my pockets and finding a pencil I kept for notations as I read. I scribbled in the margins. "A sauce for the fish. Tart juice and bitter greens."

I was not an ideal omega, and if I stopped to think of the days ahead, the months and years, there were more expectations I was terrified of failing than those I had any hope of meeting. But I did quite like planning menus.

I mumbled a few more notes, scribbling a recipe onto the page, and then tapped the pencil against my pursed lips. "This will do for tomorrow." I reached to turn the page and check the next day, but Cook Guinney had had enough of me and snatched the book out of my hands.

"You can look your fill at the rest of the week tomorrow morning. I've work to attend to now," Cook said, frowning down at my notes. But her frown faded into speculation, and I squared my shoulders, confident in my choice.

"It's time to take you up to the nest," Lady Beatrice said to me, turning from the kitchens. She was definitely smiling now, although it might've been at Cook's expense. Or even mine. "I see you have your hands busy, Guinney, but send a luncheon up for Omega Cadogan."

"I can carry a few—" My words died on my tongue at the arch look Beatrice gave me. Offering to carry my own meal up to the nest was not the act of the alpha's omega. I tucked my hands behind my back and followed in silence, back up through the winding stairs and halls of the castle, sweat dripping down my spine, my toes pinched in my shoes.

I missed Lord Cadogan's wings. Going up to the towering height of the castle was so much worse than descending from it, and I was embarrassed by my own huffing and puffing when Beatrice's steps finally slowed outside of the large single door at the top of the turret.

"After the rut has concluded, we will likely find you your own permanent room," Beatrice said, pulling a key from the chatelaine that clinked against her hip. "Until that time, you will sleep here with the alpha."

I nodded, but my head ceased its dizzy bobbing as the door opened. The room was huge! It was round with beamed, peaked ceilings and an intimidatingly huge bed sitting on a platform of stairs at the heart. To my left, an enormous balcony faced the island, small specks of homes folding into the green hills. To my right, a large arched window faced the sea, with a cushioned bench that tempted me closer.

The few nests I'd built had been for myself, in my bedroom. They were small and personal, smaller than the bed I was now gaping at. The alpha's bed had four short, decorative posters, and the beams of the ceiling had a number of hooks, but I had no notion where to start on building a cozy nest for Lord Cadogan and myself in such an enormous space.

"Your things will be brought here by the end of the day or tomorrow," Beatrice said, moving slowly into the room. I noticed, with a little resentment, that she wasn't busy catching her breath. She was used to these endless staircases, and probably the enormous rooms too. "The maids will bring you a selection of linens for the nest, but you'll have to give them instruction on what more you'll need. You won't see Ronson before dinner, not now that Niall has him. Ask the staff to find me if you have any more questions."

She turned in the room, eyeing it critically. I had thousands of questions. Did the alpha sleep here normally? There were a few bits of evidence, like the open wardrobe of clothing and a pair of dusty boots by the door, but the room didn't look very personal. Was there a particular way I was meant to build a nest to share with a dragon in rut? Except I should've known that already.

"The nest will keep you busy," she said, pursing her lips and studying me with a hawkish look.

"Of course, yes," I said, wondering how obvious my complete lack of preparedness was to her keen gaze.

She nodded her head in one firm jerk and then marched toward the door I was blocking. I ducked out of the way before she plowed right through me.

The room felt even larger once I was left alone. With Beatrice's fresh omega scent gone, the deeper woodsy and smoky alpha notes teased at my nose and my tongue. Yes, he slept here. The room was clean and sparse, but it smelled like him. I wet my lips and glanced over my shoulder, making sure I was alone again as I pulled and yanked on my dress and the tight stays beneath it that were now uncomfortably soaked with sweat.

Maids would be arriving with food and materials to build a nest I had no notion of how to construct. I wanted to strip myself free of my confining garments and roll into those clean and crisp looking sheets, see if I could reach the corners of the bed as I stretched—I suspected not. But I didn't want to be caught sweating like a pig and lazing about, not when I was so sure the entire castle—and probably the island—was waiting to see what absurd mistakes I would make.

Still, a bit of fresh air would be nice. It was cooler by the sea. I crossed to the balcony, grunting as I opened the doors made of wrought iron and poured glass. They creaked, and I gasped as a chilly burst of air rushed around me, making the world a little clearer and cooling the sweat under my layers of clothing.

I had never seen the island from such a high vantage point, and it took my breath away. Bleake Isle seemed enormous. It was all I'd ever known of the world, but from here in this high tower, looking down on the grid map of the village in the distance, almost able to make out the distant edge of the island where docks waited, it revealed itself as a small kingdom.

Still too large to be ruled by you, I thought, lips twisting wryly.

But the alpha had chosen me. Perhaps to spite Adelaide and Hugh Gamesby. Perhaps because my inability to keep my mouth shut had made him see me as an ally.

I know I did make the right choice, Mairwen Posy.

I flushed and closed my eyes as the wind rushed over me, sharp with sea air but familiar too, with the woods and the hay from the farms and the meadows of wildflowers.

Lord Ronson Cadogan had chosen me as his omega after half a century of refusing others. He claimed he'd made the right choice, even as every other omega and beta likely thought he'd made a terrible mistake.

I wanted to believe him. Him and not them. But it wouldn't be so simple. I wouldn't blossom into the perfect omega just because he had stopped in front of me and declared me his choice. If I wanted his choice to be right, I had to help prove it so.

The door opened, and a flurry of maids called to me, their arms laden with fabric and pillows and cords and hooks. I smoothed my hands down my wrinkled skirts and straightened my shoulders, turning on my heel and determined to start now.

Build a nest for the alpha, Mairwen. I swallowed hard and fought my blush. For you both.

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Chapter SevenRONSON

“Do you think Grave Hills is ready for a new alpha?" Niall asked, one leg crossed over the other as we sat on opposite sides of my desk.

I grunted and shrugged. "You know how these things go. The old guard resists, but there's nothing any of them can do. If Torion can best Lachlan, then he has the strength to rule the betas."

Niall hummed and nodded, but I snorted, wondering if I could read my half-brother's mind.

"And then starts their scheming," I said, thinking of my own less than stable control over the island.

"Torion is even more stubborn than you. Either he'll take an omega straight away, or he'll go twice as long refusing them all," Niall said, crooked smile flashing.

At the mention of omegas, my eyes slid past Niall's shoulder to the doorway, as if Mairwen might have appeared there. She had no reason to come to my office, and Beatrice was unlikely to bring her here. I kept catching the faintest traces of her perfume on my clothes, lingering and clinging after our flight, and it was driving me a little bit mad.

"If Torion does move soon, you'll have an ally against the betas here," Niall noted, catching my attention once more.

"I have an omega now too, which works in my favor," I said. Niall made a soft sound, and my eyes narrowed. "You were the one to point out her superiority. I didn't expect you to have such doubts about Mairwen."

Niall's eyebrows rose. "I considered her interesting. But she's obviously not respected by local dragonkin. You took an omega to prove to the betas that you could, that you'd have an heir. But it seems you took the one they valued least."

"That's their mistake, not mine," I snapped, pushing back from my desk and rising to standing.

Niall stared at me for a moment, blinking, and his lips parted. "Ronson. You like her."

I huffed. "I know that."

"Oh. I didn't."

I scowled at him for a moment, reaching up and scrubbing my hand over the eager bristles of my beard. Should I shave before dinner, or would it be better to let it grow out? I wouldn't shave during the rut, and it might chafe Mairwen's skin to start.

"From what you've told me, you can trust her, which is good. And if you like her, then…then that's good too," Niall said, his lips twitching.

I resisted the urge to snarl, but my face was growing warm. "I'm not– It isn't– She was the best of the lot, and she wasn't marked," I spat out.

Niall wasn't chastened, and I regretted speaking the words, the way they belittled the odd omega whose company I'd been craving all day.

"Fair enough," Niall said too lightly. "It's late. I'm sure Cook's chomping at the bit to serve dinner."

I spun, looking out the windows and sighing. The sun was setting. It was time for dinner. This baffling day was almost over, and I would end it with Mairwen, alone at last. Maybe I could take her flying again.

Or maybe I'll just drag her into the nest and keep her there until I've finally discovered what's under all those boned and bound layers of hers.

My shoulders were tight, wings squeezed close to my back, as we left my office and started the trek to the dining room. My own steps thundered in my ears. Mairwen had been pale this morning, and she'd been sick the night before, thanks to damned Gryffyd. Maybe I could have our own dinner sent up to the nest. I wasn't sure I wanted to share her with Niall, who'd been picking at my choice all day, and Beatrice, who wouldn't say a word out loud but would absolutely deliver all of them with a look. Except if we were alone in the nest, I probably wouldn't be thinking of food, and she'd been sick the night before because of Gryffyd, and⁠—

"Ronson, if you're going to rip my wings off, I wish you'd get it over with," Niall muttered, edging away from me.

I cleared the snarl from my throat and shook my head, shoving aside the horrifying imaginings of Gryffyd Evans cornering Mairwen.

We'd reached the dining room, Beatrice waiting outside with a straight back and her hands folded over her skirt, and a pair of footmen pushed open the doors. I searched the hall.

"Where's—"

"Coming!" a bright voice called from the far end.

I swallowed my own tongue as a flushed and disheveled blur rushed closer. Mairwen's cheeks were splotched with color, her dress rumpled, and the high-collared, opaque fichu she wore under her dress had been abandoned, revealing a spectacular array of soft flesh from her neck down to her heaving and flattened breasts. Their form spilled slightly over the straight neckline of the dress, eager to escape, and my mouth watered. How full would they be once she was out of that corset? I needed to know, far more than I needed anything as silly and useless as a meal.

"I'm starving," Mairwen admitted in a soft blurt, flashing me a quick smile. Her skin was patched pink and red from exertion, but would be creamy-pale when calm.

"So is Ronson," Niall said, patting me hard on the shoulder. "Just look at him. Practically salivating."

I growled at my half-brother, and Mairwen's shoulders hitched up toward her ears. I was going to make a terrible mess of the evening, I just knew it.

My claws dug into my palms as I watched Mairwen chew on her lip. We ascended the stairs up to the nest together, one of her arms linked through mine, the other fussing and fisting around her wrinkled skirt. Her nerves had become increasingly obvious throughout the evening, as she'd grown silent and avoided my gaze across the dinner table.

I, on the other hand, had become increasingly aware of a simple fact—I was attracted to Mairwen. To the young woman I'd considered irrefutably plain just a week ago. I wanted to sink my teeth into her flesh as it bloomed with color, fill my hands with those hidden curves beneath her dress, and I wanted those damned amber-gold eyes staring at me.

"Lord Cadogan⁠—"

"Ronson," I said, but it came out as a snarl, and I covered Mairwen's hand on my arm before she could pull away. "You no longer need to be formal with me, Mairwen." Especially when you consider where I'm leading you and what I plan to do when we get there.

Her cheeks blushed and her steps faltered, and that wickedly tempting and evasive scent whispered to me. "Ronson, I was late to dinner because, well… It's just that I…I don't think the nest is very good. I just wanted to warn you."

Without an omega to guard and hoard for my own pleasure, I hadn't needed a nest in the past, although I'd built myself utilitarian versions of the structures for privacy. I still didn't understand the supposed perfection of an omega nest built for an alpha. It was another piece of our dragonkin mystery that I had yet to experience, but at the moment, it was the least of my concerns.

Mairwen was fidgeting and blushing, and she was going to bruise her poor bottom lip unless I found a way to soothe her. We'd reached the door to my bedroom and I stopped, grasping Mairwen's shoulders and turning her to face me. She stiffened in my grip, but she released her lip from the abuse of her nibbling.

"The rut won't start tonight, Mouse," I said, ducking my head down. The nickname slipped from my lips—I'd heard it too many times today, and she had that skittish nature at the moment—but I paused as her expression fell, the warmth receding from her startled gaze. Damn. She hated that nickname. I ought to have banished it from my thoughts, and I regretted it ever landing on my tongue. I slid one hand up from her shoulder, greedily learning the texture of her skin, beautifully smooth and delicate. I sheathed my claws and ran the backs of my fingers up her throat, nudging my knuckles under her chin. Her lips were parted, but I'd lost her scent with that stray comment. Never again, I vowed to myself.

"Mairwen," I purred, and her pupils widened. It was a start. "Are you nervous?"

Her brow furrowed. "Of course I am."

My lips curved up at her honesty. She might be nervous, but she was braver than most to admit as much.

"A kiss." I'd meant to ask a question like a gentleman, but instead, the words were a softly growled order.

Mairwen eased slightly, and my impatience won out. I tipped my head to the side and slanted my mouth over hers, catching the salt from dinner on her lips. My left hand stroked down her spine, drawing her into me, as my right cupped her jaw and held her in place.

What was the solution to the puzzle of this omega? I wanted to know all of her secrets, not just her perfume or the shape of her or why everyone—even her parents—called her by a nickname that made her shrink away. What would it take to know this woman I had chosen on a whim after decades of waiting to find someone?

She hummed as I licked the seam of her lips, then sighed and opened to me. She wasn't timid in the kiss, but she was certainly still learning the pattern. I pulled away slightly, searching her face and smiling as I found her eyes shut and her cheeks flushed.

"Have you kissed before today, Mairwen?" I asked, rasping.

She blinked, and I shooed away my pride at her dazed expression. Her nose wrinkled as she answered, "Only last night with Mr. Ev⁠—"

I growled, and my hand on the base of her back tugged her closer. "He doesn't count."

Her lips pursed, and she stared openly up at me. "I'm not doing well, am I?"

I huffed out a laugh and pressed a quick peck to the round tip of her nose. "On the contrary."

And there it was—amber syrup and warm gold, richer than before, clinging to her lips as her breath hitched. I snarled and caught her mouth roughly with my own, impatient for that flavor.

Compliments, I noted for later, too busy drawing Mairwen closer, discovering the soft swell of her ass under layers of fabric and shamelessly digging my fingers into her. She whimpered as my tongue stroked hers, and her arms swung around my shoulders, grasping at the back of my jacket.

Kisses too, I added as Mairwen's perfume bloomed a little more. My knees bent, my body searching for the fit of her against me, muscles tensing when I was denied by the restrictive dress. The open hall at my back became oppressive, a dangerous pressure on my spine, warning me that I had my omega out in the open. And yet it was all I could do not to tear her dress open and feast.

Mairwen gasped as I reared back, and I nearly lost any good sense I clung to as I stared down at her. Her breasts were so ripe, straining at the collar of her dress, and the red stain of her flush had the odd effect of making my mouth water and my teeth ache.

"Open the door," I said, clearing my throat to shake out the urgent snap in my tone.

"What?" Mairwen asked, still panting for air.

"Open the door, Mairwen," I said. I couldn't do it, because my hands refused to release her. My thumb stroked the hollow of her cheek in resolute protest.

She hummed, unable to turn and look at the door when I was holding her jaw in my firm grip, and her hand fumbled until she found the knob, twisting it and throwing the door open. She squeaked as I bent and lifted her up, one arm banded under her bottom. It put her chest at eye level, and I groaned and stumbled, burying my face between her breasts. Her fingers slid into my hair as she whimpered, her touch combing through curls and pulling gently on strands. I considered the advantage of the floor beneath us and how it might serve as well as a nest for my purposes of being inside Mairwen as soon as possible.

The nest.

She was worried about the nest. Compliments made her perfume. I would⁠—

I lifted my face from her now brilliantly pink breasts—there was a rough mark that must have been from my mouth, and I licked my lips, delighted by the taste of salt and honey—and turned toward the bed.

"Ah."

No, Ronson, you idiot, I cursed as Mairwen's perfume withered and she sagged in my arms.

"I warned you," she breathed.

She had, unfortunately, been right. It was not a very good nest. Mairwen had draped several sheets over the posters of my bed and tied them in a knot at the center, slightly tented by a rope hanging over one of the hooks from the beamed ceilings. It was thin, small, and probably not very secure.

In her defense, she had never had to build a nest that would stand up to a dragon, let alone one in the middle of the rut's sexual frenzy.

She's nervous and she's inexperienced, I reminded myself.

She was also squirming. My arms tightened around her briefly and then relented, setting Mairwen down on her toes.

"I can—I can do a bit more now," she said, turning toward the nest.

I caught her by her shoulders and yanked her back to my chest. "No," I said, softening the harsh word with a kiss to the crown of her head. "This will do very well for tonight."

"You don't have to⁠—"

I spun her, muffling her words with another kiss, pleased as she sank into me, opened her lips and sighed as I swept my tongue briefly against hers. My interest hadn't cooled, but my good sense had clawed its way up from the haze of lust.

"I have an idea," I murmured, grazing my mouth back and forth over Mairwen's.

"Hmm?"

She was delicious, and for a moment I wavered. Even inexperienced, she was so sweet, so responsive. I could easily ensure her enjoyment and my own tonight. I could have her stripped and under me in the shabby nest. I could have my hands and mouth everywhere I wanted them.

Because I was the alpha.

I swallowed hard and stood straight, combing the loose strands that had escaped Mairwen's tight twist of hair back behind her ear.

"The rut will come soon and I will need you, badly," I said, and Mairwen's eyes fluttered open, glowing brightly. She nodded, and I wanted to groan and give into all my base wishes at that dazed surrender. "But until that time, I think we ought to…explore one another."

"Explore?" Mairwen echoed.

I nodded. "You should have a slower introduction to sex than…than what I might like to do at the moment," I said with a rueful smile.

Mairwen's lips twisted, and her eyes cleared. "Like practice, so I know what I'm doing during the rut?"

I frowned. The words were right, but I also somehow felt as though I misstepped.

"Yes, and so I know what to do for you, Mairwen," I said. "So you know what to expect and aren't frightened, or uncomfortable."

She wet her lips with a pink tongue that I was already craving another taste of, and her gaze slid away from me. She scowled at the nest she'd built, and I found myself staring at the mark I'd made on her chest. Had I…bitten her? And why couldn't I recall?

"Could we take turns?"

My mouth went dry at the question.

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