Chapter 10 Oros
CHAPTER TEN
OROS
“Shh,” I hush, my lips tasting her throat as her pulse beats rapidly in her neck. This isn’t what I intended to do upon returning to my suite, but her apology did something to me.
Well, it did a few things.
First, it made me want to ash back to my office and punch my brother in the face—because what the fuck was he thinking lecturing her about my space?
But then I realized we needed to establish some trust between us.
Trust that I’ll take care of her.
And trust… that she isn’t here to betray me. Trust that she isn’t a trap, like her mother was for her father.
It’s possible that this is all some sort of ploy, her scent a beacon meant to tempt me into falling.
However, when her head snapped up and she told me about her desire to nest, her exhaustion, her desire for something as simple as food and water, all hints of potential reservations vanished into smoke.
There’s only one way to determine her motives now, and that’s to experience whatever this is between us. To embrace it. To show her who I am, and let her return the favor in kind.
That’s why I mentioned her wolf—because her father warned me that she’s ashamed of her inner beast. And I want her to know that I’m not.
Wolves are majestic. Fierce. Gorgeous in their own right.
“We worship all kinds of Omegas here,” I tell her, my fingers drawing through her hair as my opposite hand slips around to palm her flat belly. “Let me prove it to you.” I boldly kiss her neck, my dragon purring with approval inside.
He wants me to sink my canines into her and mark her.
Claim her.
And I can’t remember ever feeling such a powerful pull in my life.
It’s like my soul has known hers for an eternity already.
Which is ridiculous.
But I’m not about to run away from this connection between us.
“Alpha dragons hate wolves,” she whispers, the choked quality of her voice causing me to spin her around in my arms. Her eyes are filled with tears, her bottom lip trembling.
“Dragons do not hate wolves,” I tell her. “And anyone who has fed you that lie doesn’t deserve his knot.”
She gazes up at me with such heartfelt agony that it hurts to fucking breathe.
Fires, this woman has been through hell. I can see the nightmares rolling through her gaze like flashes of violent thunderstorms. It sucks the air right out of the room.
How have I missed this pain? I ask myself, transfixed by her torment. It’s so apparent in her features now that I wonder if I missed it before because I was too blinded by her beauty to see her true self. But I definitely see her now.
“Do you really think…?” She trails off, swallowing. “Will a Drakonian Alpha accept me?”
“Oh, printesa mea,” I whisper, my forehead falling to hers. “There’s no doubt in my mind that you’ll be claimed.”
And if I’m not careful, I’ll be the one to do it.
It’s expected that I’ll one day take a mate, to produce an heir for Gold Sector.
That’s a lot to ask of an Omega I’ve just met. Especially one with such a haunted past.
I also can’t believe I’m even considering it. The expectation has always been there, but I’ve never been inclined to act on it.
Until now.
Until her.
Taliana clings to me, then nods. “Thank you.”
My purr intensifies, the sound coming more from my dragon than from me. Purring is a sacred act, one reserved for an Alpha and his mate.
Yet it feels so natural to purr for her now.
I’m in so much fucking trouble, I realize. It’s partly her scent. Or maybe even mainly her scent. But it’s also her. This female. This enchanting Omega. Printesa mea.
It’s an endearment I’ve never used with anyone else. My princess.
The words suit her perfectly.
Especially when she’s fiery and telling me what she needs—like in the foyer of my suite.
I liked that side of her. And I want more.
However, I take a step back to continue showing her how Alphas treat Omegas here. That was the entire point of this exercise. Or that’s what I told myself when I initially suggested it.
Again, not my plan at all.
However, here we are.
And I’m not mad about it.
She stares up at me with reverence as I grab the shampoo and begin lathering it into her silver-black hair. The color is darker from the water, almost resembling midnight strands spun with white gold. An intoxicating hue, one that contrasts beautifully with the yellow gold hanging from her neck.
My token sits perfectly between her breasts, the subtle claim pleasing me greatly.
Although, noting the expanse of naked skin beyond it has me wanting to decorate more of her in gold. Hmm. An anklet, perhaps, I think, considering the option briefly before returning my focus to her hair.
She’s still staring at me like I’ve hung the moon for her, those alluring eyes fixated on mine as I run my fingers through her silky strands.
“Close your eyes,” I tell her softly before guiding her under the water.
She follows my command beautifully, just like she’s done all day. The perfect Omega, I think. Feisty when she needs to be. Submissive when I need her to be.
It takes significant effort not to kiss her.
She’s not mine. Not yet. I just want to take care of her, something I’ve never truly desired to do before with anyone else. Oh, I’ve held Omegas. Stroked them. But this… this is on another level entirely.
I’m petting her. Conditioning her hair. Washing her.
When I pick up the soap—a bar that smells like me—I’m suddenly so hard I almost feel dizzy. Because fuck. I’m about to put my hands all over her. Drench her in my scent. Make her… mine.
Alarms blare in my head. Alarms I ignore in favor of touching her.
She shudders beneath my palms, goose bumps pebbling along her flesh. Fires, it makes me want to lick her. See if she tastes as good as she smells.
My nose goes to her hair as I step behind her, my hands roaming up and down her arms. She mentioned bathing in the sea before attending the meeting with the Royal Court earlier. But not once have I picked up that scent from her.
Just a fresh meadow. On a sunny day.
Fucking heaven.
I close my eyes, my nose burrowing deeper into her hair as I explore her sides, the soap slippery against her skin. Everything I do is on autopilot—switching the bar from palm to palm, lathering it in slow, hypnotic circles, ensuring every inch of her torso is covered.
Everything except her tits…
“Taliana,” I breathe, my lips brushing her hair. “If I make you uncomfortable, say ‘Rumpel’ and I’ll stop what I’m doing.”
I can’t think of a more jarring nickname. Alpha and Your Highness will probably have the opposite effect from her lips.
But Rumpel will definitely halt my actions.
As would Rumpelstiltskin. However, that’s a mouthful.
“Isn’t that… what Taylor calls you?” she asks slowly.
“Yes. Because of my brother.” I pull back a little, my hands falling to her hips to guide her around to face me. “It’s a name that will instantly ground me and force me to stop.”
She frowns at me. “I don’t understand.”
If there was any doubt as to her innocence, it’s gone now. Because I can see the confusion in her gaze. She has no idea what she’s doing to me or what I want to do to her.
“I don’t want to push your boundaries, Taliana,” I explain. “I need you to trust me and be comfortable with me. Which means you have to tell me if I’m doing something you dislike. And if you can’t formulate the words, just say ‘Rumpel.’ ”
“Rumpel,” she repeats. “Why do they call you that?”
It’s not really relevant to our conversation, but it’s a welcome distraction. Because I can feel myself losing control. Especially with her tits so close to my chest.
And her cunt inches from my aching knot.
“Rumpelstiltskin,” I grate out.
Which naturally deepens her frown. “What?”
“It’s a fairy tale.”
“Okay…” She blinks at me.
“About an imp,” I go on. “Once upon a time, a miller claimed his daughter could spin straw into gold. The king of their land found out, took the girl, and demanded that she prove it. Except it was all a lie.”
“Why would he lie?”
“Fame,” I suggest, glancing over her. “There are a lot of reasons people lie.”
Or set traps, I think.
But I don’t add that part out loud.
“Regardless, it was a lie. So an imp agrees to help her by spinning the straw into gold for her in exchange for her necklace. The king, naturally, is delighted at her proven talent and demands more. Thus, the imp helps again, this time for her ring. And the king declares that if she can do it a third time, he’ll wed her. ”
“Because he believes her lie,” Taliana says slowly.
“Exactly.”
“Well, does she tell him the truth?” she presses, her gaze searching mine as though she’s intrigued to know how this tale ends.
“No. She makes a deal with the imp instead.”
“More jewelry in exchange for gold?” she guesses.
I shake my head. “When he returns to offer help, she says she has nothing else to trade. So he requests her firstborn instead.”
Taliana gasps. “Oh, no. So then she tells the king the truth?”
I chuckle and shake my head again. “Of course not. She agrees to the exchange—her firstborn for more gold—so she can wed the king.”
Taliana looks positively distraught. “What?”
Well, perhaps this discussion was a wise one to have after all. Because that was a telling response. “She chooses to become a queen, basically, over her firstborn,” I say, shrugging like that doesn’t bother me. When in reality, it very much does. “Which—”
“How could someone do that?” she interjects, her cheeks bright red with fury. “What a ridiculous choice. She should have just told the truth.”
“The king might have killed her,” I point out. “Or ousted her and her father, at a minimum.”
“Both are preferable outcomes to giving up a child,” she snaps, clearly furious. “What a horrible story.”
I arch a brow. “I haven’t even finished it yet.”
“I don’t think I want to know how it ends.” She looks away, her face contorting into a cute little pout. “Actually, no. I need to know. Does she… keep her child? Or not have one?”
“Oh, she has one. And she immediately realizes how wrong she was to agree to the deal.”
Taliana slowly returns her gaze to mine. “Okay. So… what does she do?”
“Makes another deal.”
She rolls her eyes. “Of course she does.”
“The imp gives her three chances to guess his name and says that if she gets it right, he’ll forfeit the claim on the child.”
Her gaze narrows. “And his name is Rumpel?”
“Rumpelstiltskin,” I correct her.
“And she guesses that?” she asks, sounding shocked.
“No. Her first two tries are wrong. Then she follows him and overhears someone else say his name, so when he comes back for her third guess—”
“She cheats and gives the name,” she finishes for me.
I nod.
“I see.” Her brow furrows, like she’s seriously considering the moral of the story. “I still don’t like her.”
A chuckle escapes me. “Yeah? Why?”
“Because she lied to the king, used the imp, and nearly gave up her child to become a queen. She’s clearly not a good Omega.”
“Well, I never said she was an Omega.”
“Fine. She wasn’t a good Alpha or Beta or shifter or whatever.” She folds her arms over her breasts like she’s completely forgotten that we’re standing naked beneath flowing water.
“So you wouldn’t do the same?” I ask, curious now as I lean against the marbled shower wall beside us.
“As her? No. Absolutely not.” She sounds completely disgusted.
“What if you were told that the only way you could be accepted in Gold Sector was to present precious metals, like gold, to the court?” I press. “And an Alpha, or hell, me, what if I offered to give you gold in exchange for your child? Would you agree if it meant being accepted here?”
She gapes at me. “I’d rather go back to the nomad lands and take my chances with the Alphas there,” she spits at me. “So if you think I’m going to agree to such a ridiculous arrangement, then you can fuck right off.”
With that, she stomps toward the glass door and yanks it open with a growl that’s all female wolf.
Damn if that doesn’t make my knot throb.
I grab my cock and give it a stroke, a groan leaving me as I watch her sweet, curvy ass march out of the bathroom.
Soaking wet. Snarling. Vibrating with fury.
Because the very concept of abandoning her pup infuriates her.
This Omega is perfection.
Fucking. Perfection.
And I might have to make her mine…