The Alpha of Bleake Isle

Chapter EightMAIRWEN

Islid out of the alpha's—Ronson's, I corrected myself—grip and felt as though I could catch my breath for the first time since we'd left di

"It's true that I…I'm not really prepared for your rut," I said, braving a glance at Ronson, choking on air slightly at the sight of his dark and probing gaze. He'd been sending deadly looks to my dress all night, but it wasn't censure to me, and my uncomfortable corset had never been more of a strain to wear than it was now. The scratch and drag of his stubble against my breasts was still vivid in my head, and my hand fluttered up to cover the spot he'd nipped at and swirled his tongue over.

"I've never seen a man naked," I blurted out, stumbling backwards.

Ronson's eyes narrowed, and his smile was the curved edge of a blade. "Would you like to?"

"If it was you," I admitted, my face on fire.

Ronson stiffened and his eyes fell shut, a low, rumbling purr rising from his chest. His shoulders rolled, and then he was pulling at the snaps and ties that fastened his jacket in place.

"Wait!" I cried out, and he stopped immediately, coat sleeve still clinging to one thickly muscled arm. I swallowed hard and unclenched my hands. "You said…you said we should explore each other."

Ronson nodded, and I wondered if he realized how absolutely terrifying his expression was. I was reasonably sure he wasn't mad at me. He was rough and growling and glaring, but his mouth had been much gentler than Gryffyd's as he kissed me, thorough but tender.

I tiptoed tentatively back to his side, and he released the fabric of his coat, giving me his arm instead so I could complete the task.

"You undress me, I undress you, we take turns?" Ronson asked.

I winced at the idea of him unbinding my laces and corset and seeing me in all of my…me-ness. "Well. I was thinking tonight would be my turn to explore you, and then…maybe…tomorrow⁠—"

"You're not getting into my nest until I get you out of that awful contraption," Ronson grumbled, a shameless finger hooking between my breasts and down into the collar of my dress to tug against my corset, the warm digit wedged against sensitive skin and making me break out in gooseflesh. "Even if it is your turn."

It was an awful contraption, and I let out a snort at the masculine snarling pout on his lips.

"I get to keep my chemise on," I bargained. It was quite thin, but in the shadow of the nest it might offer a little disguise.

Ronson was silent, and I glanced up to find him staring speculatively down at my chest again. Surprisingly, he blushed when he realized I was watching him.

"Fine," he said.

I sighed and tugged his coat sleeve away at last, stepping back to study his white linen shirt. There were carefully disguised buttons under a folded placket that ran across the line of his shoulder and then down his back to his wings. I reached up and started on his right side, relieved as he tipped his head back and away, eyes lifted up to the ceiling and giving me a break from their oppressive focus.

"I won't know what I'm doing," I murmured, unpicking the buttons one at a time and taking the opportunity to admire the strong lines of his throat, the shadow of a beard that hadn't been on his face this morning.

"Hm?"

"When I'm…exploring. Touching you."

"That's the point of doing it," he said, shrugging.

"Well, yes, but…you'll have to give me some indication when it goes right."

His eyes closed, and his chest shook. I considered attacking the line of buttons down his chest but moved to his left shoulder instead, repeating the process.

"I will endeavor not to hide my pleasure from you, Mairwen. But I don't predict that being a problem."

I paused, both of his shoulders unbuttoned, the first dark curls of hair on his chest exposed. "Really?"

He lifted his head and stared down at me. "Have I seemed indifferent thus far?"

My mouth opened and shut. He had at di

"I suppose not," I said, taking a solid breath and plucking one silver button after another down the line of his chest. He had a glimmer of rust and gold scales under the dark hair covering his chest, and I fought the urge to touch him for a moment before realizing that was precisely the bargain we'd made together.

Ronson groaned and his head fell back as my fingertips slid into the curls, stroked down, and tapped against the smooth and tensing planes of his stomach. He was the largest man I'd ever met, which was only right considering he was the alpha, but I'd always felt too tall, too heavy. He dwarfed me. And he lifted me off my feet with one arm, flying me around the island and carrying me through the castle as if it required no effort on his part.

He could've tossed Adelaide around like a feather, I supposed, frowning slightly.

And then Ronson's hands covered mine over his stomach, and I forgot about the other omega, the one who by pure and strange luck—and terrible judgment—had lost her chance at being chosen by this alpha. Ronson guided my hands down to his hips, where a twin line of buttons would open his trousers.

"We can stop," he offered in a low, rough tone.

My hands were shaking slightly, and it was more obvious as his steady grip held mine. I was stubbornly avoiding thinking about one moment to the next, about the fact that I'd agreed to undress down to my thin slip, about how small I'd made the nest around the bed and how close Ronson and I would be, alone and surrounded by the thin swathes of cotton.

But I was curious.

"No," I said, continuing as his hands had guided, working on either line of the buttons at the same time.

Ronson's breath made his chest fill and sigh quickly, and he jerked his arms back, pulling his shirt off as I opened his trousers. He had another single line of buttons down a short placket over his groin, keeping his drawers fixed around his hips, and I undid those as well, until the layers of black wool and cream linen sagged. The dark hair of his chest narrowed to a thick line leading down between two beautiful arcs of muscle, and then widened again to a familiar, thick coat of curls, not entirely unlike the one at the V of my own hips.

"I forgot about my damned boots," Ronson muttered. "Come to the nest."

I blinked as he spun us around, ignoring the loose hang of his pants as he strode toward the bed. I gaped, remaining in place for a moment, watching his golden back shifting between the frame of massive black wings. I certainly hadn't taken those into account when I'd built the nest.

He had dimples at the base of his back, and he had to shuffle as his pants continued to droop, revealing a round swell of a firm ass.

He chose me? I thought. And I'd just declared that I would explore him for the night. Have my turn first. Perhaps that had been a mistake. I'd been recalling the rough force and uncomfortable jerks of my body Mr. Evans had delivered the night before and thinking it would be better if I could hold onto some control to start. But Ronson's touches and kisses had left me weak and melting and biting down on my tongue to keep from begging for more.

"Actually, I'd better deal with the boots myself," Ronson said, grunting as he yanked on the heel of a boot.

My lips quirked at the sight of him. He was seated on the bed, the curtains of the nest I'd built draped open and hanging over his wings. I twisted my arms behind my back, pulling the laces of my dress loose, checking to make sure he was distracted as I lifted it up over my head. One boot thunked against the floor, and I turned at the waist, attending to the ties of the petticoat around my middle.

My maid had dressed me in one of the longer corsets, attempting to flatten and slim my shape according to my mother's instructions, but it meant the laces were all in the back and harder to reach. I wrestled and strained for a few moments, glaring at the glittering sea out of the large windows, until a warm and large pair of hands caught mine.

"Let me."

My breath froze in my chest and my hands hovered behind my back as Ronson's warmth billowed around me, the bindings of my laces tugging and loosening as he pulled them through their loops. My arms drooped, hands hanging numbly at my side, and I shivered and swallowed a whimper when his knuckles grazed through my thin chemise along my spine.

"Why do you wear these so tight?"

I had to swallow twice before I could answer. "It's fashionable to be…willowy and small. I am neither." Not that he would've needed me to point as much out.

His breath puffed over my shoulder, down into the increasingly loose collar of my chemise. "I've been looking forward to taking this off you all day, Mairwen," Ronson rumbled.

I had no idea what to say to that, and then the laces were gone and I could breathe, breathe and groan as my back bowed and my breasts pounded, aching and unbound. Ronson shoved the stern panels of the corset to the floor, and his arms wrapped around my soft stomach, tugging me back into his chest. I could feel the soft brush of his chest hair through the thin fabric of the chemise, and the gentle prod of his—Oh!

I tried to twist, but he was surrounding me, rubbing his evening beard against my hair. His lips grazed the shell of my ear and his voice purred, warm and low, "If tonight was my turn, I would take your breasts in my hands and squeeze and stroke them. I'd pull your collar open until I could kiss the marks of the corset away, make you all pink and tender with my mouth. Are your nipples sensitive, Mairwen?"

I let out a strangled noise, and then Ronson lifted one index finger up, grazing over my left nipple, and it budded to a tight peak. I whined, and the alpha holding me rumbled.

"Oh, very sensitive," he rasped, and then his head ducked, burrowing his face against my throat, his breath cascading hotly over my flesh. "Tomorrow, I'm going to suck and bite and lick your perfect, full breasts until you gush, omega."

My eyes widened, and if it weren't for Ronson's arms around my waist, I would've collapsed. I ought to have been entirely ignorant to what he meant, but mostly I was just shocked at the idea that such a thing were possible. Just from…my breasts? Usually it took⁠—

"Oh!" I gasped, clutching my arms around Ronson's shoulders as he caught my legs with one arm and carried me toward the nest. "It's—I could f-fix the nest a little more if⁠—"

"Leave it," Ronson ground out, catching the edge of one sheet with a hook of his wing, pushing it aside and ducking down. He nearly took the whole thing down with us, and the bedsheet was cool against my back as he slid us both into the small hollow of space I'd created at the heart of the vast bed.

"B-but," I stammered, eyeing the way his wings grazed and hooks snagged on the shelter I'd created.