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I turned to face him. He wasn't asking if I was ready to wash. This was more than that. We'd managed a great deal of exploration in the last two nights, but two nights would never be enough preparation for a dragon's rut. Especially not the alpha's.
"Is it true you shift into a dragon during…?"
Ronson gri
"It's just a rumor. It sounded false," I said, ducking my head.
Shadows churned out of the corner of my eye, and then Ronson was there, in front of me. Had he flown, or could he muffle his thunder and step silently when he wanted? Either way, he was surrounding me, the door solid at my back and him even more so in front of me.
His brow furrowed. "You're frightened."
"Nervous," I corrected, trying to avoid looking at him. But it was impossible. He was huge, and he was taking up every inch of my view. "Tired."
"We can—"
"Excited," I continued, glancing up, his gaze as black and difficult to decipher as ever. "Confused. It was a big day, Ronson."
"Just a bath, then," he said, gathering me gently and peeling me away from the door, cocooning me in strong arms and heavy wings.
"Not just a bath," I said, and his steps faltered. "I'm afraid if we wait another day, the betas will find a way to sink the isle into the sea and make it your job to float us back out again. But maybe… Can we move slowly?"
Ronson's arms circled my waist, drawing me back into his warm chest. He always smelled a little smoky to me, but it was a much fresher and more intense scent than the sweat and fire clinging to my own skin, and I turned my face to breathe him in.
"I especially enjoy moving slowly with you, omega," he purred in my ear, taking advantage of my twisted neck to press kisses inside the open collar of his shirt I was still wearing.
Will you be disappointed when you learn my decision? I wondered, but I didn't want the answer. It had taken a long time to dig through voices that didn't belong to me in order to discover my own, but by that point, it was a relief to discover it at all.
"In fact, before we even entertain the bath, I think I ought to start by very slowly undressing you," he continued, one hand sliding up to tug the uppermost button of my collar. His claws were sharp and glossy black, and they clicked against the delicate brass buttons.
"You're teasing me," I said, rubbing my cheek on his clean sleeve and feeling a petty pleasure when I realized I'd marked it with soot.
"I'm seducing you. Although that sometimes comes in harmony with teasing," he said. "Mairwen, would you be disgusted with me if I hired someone specifically to make you better undergarments? Ones that didn't aim to press you flat?"
"You are obsessed," I gasped out with a laugh, glancing down at the now gaping shirt that revealed my most comfortable—although apparently still objectionable—set of stays.
"I am," Ronson answered, and then one claw sliced through the front band of material.
I growled, and Ronson growled back, bucking his hips against my ass. "I have to say yes now, or I won't have any undergarments at all."
"That's another very clever idea."
"Ronson!"
He gripped my shoulders and spun me to face him, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes the only clear sign of humor. I reached up and touched the firm line of his mouth, wondering what it might take to earn one of those startling and rare smiles, and his expression slackened as he stared down at me. My throat tightened, and for a moment there was no air—time had stopped.
He would ask what I'd done in the office, if I drank the tea, and I would tell him the truth, and then I'd know how he really felt about giving me such power.
His gaze darkened, and he stepped forward, guiding me backward, the moment vanishing and returning to this warm intent and anticipation.
"I don't think anyone really recognized me today," I said.
"I don't think this island really knows you, Mairwen," Ronson said, tipping his head.
My breath snagged in my chest. "And you do?"
"No. But I will." He pushed gently, and I found myself sitting on a wide cushioned bench. He stared down at me, imperious and impenetrable and handsome. "I have started my study in the most rudimentary way."
"Oh? What way is that?"
"Looking," he said, voice velvety. His thumb caught the collar of the shirt, drawing it aside to expose a long V of skin down my chest to my stomach.
"You've done more than look," I said, words dry.
Ronson's purr rattled with a laugh and he drew away, circling the bench. I tried to look over my shoulder, but a hand caught me by my hair, holding me in place. One muscled leg looped over the bench, pressing to my left side, and then a moment later, he was wrapped around me, thighs bracing my hips, arms curling around me. His claws dug into my thigh, spreading my legs apart.
"That's true. I've learned the sounds you make, the way you taste, how your skin feels under my hand, against my own."
I shivered, and Ronson draped an arm over my chest, sliding his hand down to cup and roll my breast in his grip. I straightened, pushing into that touch, tipping my head in invitation.
"Superficial observations, I'll admit, and not nearly thorough enough to satisfy my curiosity," he whispered in my ear, licking the lobe and then ducking his head to mouth against my throat. "But there's more, Mairwen. I know there is. And I intend to learn it all."
"You might be disappointed."
"You plan on withholding what I want to learn?" Ronson asked.
That's not what I meant, I thought, but decided not to say. I twisted, reaching a hand back to draw his mouth to mine.
"Not quite so slowly now, alpha, if you please," I murmured against his lips.