Chapter 17 Taliana
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
TALIANA
Oros chose the beach.
Yet his words about his tongue haunt my every step along the sandy shore. Because I can’t stop thinking about his head between my legs.
Which is ridiculous.
He’s telling me all about Gold Sector. However, my focus is on his mouth for a reason that has nothing to do with listening to him speak.
Pay attention, I tell myself.
“We lived in the volcano for centuries,” he’s saying. “The Infection changed that, the disease wiping out almost all the island inhabitants.”
He’s silent for a moment, like he’s quietly mourning the dead.
I idly wonder if he knew any of the humans taken down by the zombielike plague.
But he clears his throat and moves on before I can ask.
He tells me about the destruction, the stench of death lingering in the streets. Then he talks about the rebuilding process, how the Drakonians moved out of the volcano and onto the surface to claim the island as their own.
“And now…” He waves a hand toward the black sand and backdrop of steep cliffs. “This is our home.”
Oros continues down the beach, his dark cloak flowing behind him as his golden armor glints in the sun.
I’m similarly dressed color-wise in a long dress that flows to the pebble-like sand beneath my flats.
Everyone eyes me with interest as we pass them, their gazes instantly drawn to my gold adornments—the cuff around my wrist and the necklace he gave me yesterday. Oros doesn’t comment on it, just nods hello and flexes his palm against my lower back to keep us moving forward.
He explains the architecture as we walk, telling me how everything is built on the cliffs and hills of the island. “It’s steep,” he tells me. “But it makes for some beautiful views.”
A lot of the foundations were originally created by the humans who once lived here, but the Drakonians expanded on their platforms and bolstered everything with various rocks.
Gold—both yellow and white—is a prominent fixture all around us as we leave the beach for a nearby cobblestone street.
“This is no ordinary gold,” he informs me, gesturing to the row of homes before us. “The gold here is enchanted with unique charms that offer protection and prosperity. Which is particularly important on this section of the island.”
I’m about to ask why when a woman steps out a few paces ahead, her brown eyes widening at seeing us on the street. My nose twitches, her scent… unexpected. “She’s human,” I whisper.
“Everyone in this area of the island is,” he murmurs as he nods at the brunette. “They’re descendants of the mortals who survived over a hundred years ago. There weren’t many, but enough to create a small human colony.”
He goes on to say how they sometimes save humans on raids and bring them back here.
“It’s not common,” he says. “But it has happened before.”
Then he starts explaining the raids, how they’re actually rescue missions involving Omegas.
“We often trade precious metals for Omegas, which is how we’ve earned our reputation as being in the slave trade. But once the Omegas arrive, they learn the truth.”
Oros proceeds to show me that truth as he ashes us to a central street lined with stores and restaurants.
My eyes widen at the sight, the scene before me like something out of a fantasy.
“Obsidian Sector has nothing like this,” I whisper. Neither do the nomad lands. But that much is probably obvious to him, so I don’t mention that last part out loud.
“Want to get a bite to eat?” he asks me. “Maybe a sandwich for a late lunch?”
We’ve been walking for a long time, making a meal sound like a good idea.
So I nod.
And he takes me to a little café with outdoor seating.
His earlier commentary regarding the island views becomes clearer as I stare down the hill toward the ocean framing the island barrier.
It really is beautiful here, with all the white architecture, blue roofs, and cobblestone streets.
When I say as much out loud, Oros returns to his architecture discussion, saying how it’s a tribute to the humans who once lived here. “We maintained a similar appeal, just bolstered it with our enchantments.”
It’s a bit of a repeat of what he already told me, but I’m so fascinated by it all that I don’t mind.
He also reiterates some of his commentary regarding the Omega relocation program as we continue our tour after lunch.
Then he explains how Omegas of all types live here, something he proves when he ashes us to a park area along the Gold Sector coast.
Enchantments dance across my skin as I gawk at the trees embedded in the rocky earth. They are definitely not native to this island, their leaves unlike any I’ve ever seen. But they instantly appeal to my wolf, my animal eager to explore and take in the unique smells.
“We’ve created a few different areas in Gold Sector like this, the purpose being to provide an adequate roaming space for the various species that live here.”
I’m about to request clarification when a pair of eyes meets mine from inside the forestry area, the yellow orbs instantly making me gasp. A wolf.
And not just any wolf, but a petite one with stark white fur.
I frown. “Z-Clan?” I guess, based on the color of her coat. I learned about the different types of wolves while growing up in Obsidian Sector.
Not in a class, but by seeing what kinds of hybrids were created as a result of various experiments.
“Yes. We’ve acquired a small pack of Z-Clan Omegas,” he explains in a soft tone.
He then elaborates on why, saying that Z-Clan Alphas are notoriously brutal, making the Omegas a natural target for rescuing.
“But why do you take on that burden?” I wonder aloud. “I mean, it’s admirable. However, I don’t understand what you get out of it.”
“We’re Alphas,” he replies. “It’s in our nature to cherish Omegas.” He palms my cheek as he pulls me toward him. “And Drakonian Alphas are compatible with almost all types of Omegas, too. So I suppose one benefit is potential companionship, but the heart of it is our need to protect.”
“The Obsidian Sector Alphas would disagree with you,” I mutter. “The Jasper Sector Alphas, too.”
“Hmm,” he hums, nodding a little. “There are some who believe we should only mate with our own kind. But that’s not how things work in Gold Sector. We accept and welcome everyone here.”
He kisses me, his mouth reverent against mine. I cling to him, lost to his touch and his words.
I’ve never been accepted anywhere. But maybe… maybe it really is different here. Maybe I can finally feel like I have a home. A nest. A mate.
This all feels like a dream.
A fantasy I never knew existed.
Too good to be true.
Warmth engulfs me as he teleports us somewhere new, his ashing ability foreign and exciting and a bit unnerving. But I trust him not to take me somewhere cruel.
He’s been the perfect Alpha thus far.
An amazing potential mate.
“Tomorrow, I’ll show you more of the sector,” he says against my lips. “And afterward, I’ll take you on a proper date.”
When Oros mentioned taking me on a “proper date,” I wasn’t sure what he meant.
But now I do.
Because he’s escorted me on several outings already, all to different places.
A private restaurant where he introduced me to Greek cuisine.
A hike on one of the smaller islands within Gold Sector territory. That experience was particularly intriguing because I witnessed a Drakonian Alpha kissing his non-dragon mate.
“She’s a Grim Wolf,” Oros told me.
“From Grim Sector?”
“Yes. She was caught up in some sort of skirmish between Grim Pack and Shade Pack. Alpha Brakish saved her from being dragged off to Darkmoor Sector and brought her here. He was her guardian, and now they’re mated.”
I blinked, surprised, as I wasn’t aware the Grim Sector King allowed anyone in or out of his borders. Nor did I know a lot about the troubles between the two packs, but I knew Grim Sector and Darkmoor Sector bordered one another.
However, what enthralled me most was seeing a dragon with a wolf.
A guardian who had become a mate.
The knowledge stuck with me all night and into the next day when Oros took me to the beach again. Only this time, we didn’t stroll. We swam.
Which left me in quite a state afterward because we didn’t wear clothes.
Not that Oros tried to touch me, though. A fact that’s really irritating me now, as it’s been five days since he made that comment about his tongue.
And Doctor Taylor’s device just finished warning me that I’m on the verge of going into heat. “It could be hours or a few days,” Doctor Taylor says as I sit up on the examination table. “It’s usually more accurate, but suppressants can alter the results.”
I fidget with the gauzy fabric of my black dress and nod, unsure of what to say to that.
“Have you decided how you want to handle your estrus?” she asks as she sets her tablet to the side.
I bite my lower lip and shake my head.
It’s a lie.
I want to ask Oros to help me through my heat. However, I can’t seem to admit that out loud. Some foolish part of me is worried that he might hear me even though he’s not here.
Oh, he escorted me to my appointment with Doctor Taylor. But then he mentioned needing to handle some work.
It likely has something to do with Prince Riordan, as Oros hasn’t mentioned him at all since the conversation the other day. And by my calculations, he should be visiting soon.
Does my father know? I wonder now. I haven’t spoken to him since we arrived here. What would he tell me to do about my heat? I ask myself in the next second.
Which makes me almost groan out loud.
Because talking to my dad about my cycle is not something I want to do.
Besides, I already know what he would recommend—request a mate for my heat.
Does Oros want to be my mate? He says we’re courting. He’s also kissed me several times. But he hasn’t done anything else. Not since our first day together. Why?
We’ve showered together a few times, each experience ending with me feeling far too hot under his soothing hands.
Yet he didn’t take me to bed after.
Instead, he fed me, then tucked me in so he could go get some work done.
I tried to stay awake. However, the scent of him and the bed I so badly wanted to nest in always lulled me to sleep.
And the next day, we repeated our wandering, shower, and food.
One day he mixed it up with a shower followed by dinner out. But it ended the same way—with me in his bed alone.
“Taliana?” Doctor Taylor sounds concerned, suggesting I may have missed something she’s just said.
“Sorry, I was thinking,” I tell her. “What did you ask?”
“If you want a tutorial on the knotting dildos,” she replies, making me blanch.
“What?”
“Those are the toys I mentioned that some Omegas use to help them through their heats. I can show you—”
“No,” I interject, perhaps a little too emphatically. But no. Nope. Not interested. “I…” I shake my head again. “Sorry. It’s just, no. I’m not ready for, um, that.”
Doctor Taylor stares at me for a moment. “Okay, but your heat—”
“Is imminent,” I finish for her on a grumble. “Yeah, I know. I… I’ll let you know soon.”
She doesn’t say anything at first but eventually nods. “All right. I can escort you back to Oros’s suite. But please consider talking to him. If you go into heat tonight, he’ll need to know your preferences. Otherwise, he won’t touch you.”
I nearly stumble, her final words having reached me just as I slid off the table. “He won’t?”
“He won’t,” she echoes. “Alphas in Gold Sector value consent. And you can’t give consent when you’re in the throes of an estrus.” There’s a sternness to her tone that has me looking at her.
“Have I upset you?” I wonder out loud, confused by her obvious frustration.
“Oh, darling, no,” she says with a sigh. “It’s just… I’m concerned.”
“About my heat?”
She nods. “I know Oros. Unless you explicitly offer permission, he won’t see you through your heat. And I’m worried about what it’ll do to you… and to him.”
I blink. I understand what she means about how it’ll impact me. Well, at least, in theory, I do. I’ve seen other Omegas go into heat. Have witnessed what happens if they don’t have an Alpha to see them through it.
Putting an overwhelmed Omega on display behind a cage was one of Basalt’s favorite public punishments. Not just for the Omega undergoing estrus, but for the Alphas, too. It caused mass rutting riots—
I shake my head, not wanting to think about what happened on those infamous nights.
My father hid me from most of it, but not all of it.
However, recalling the incidents has me asking, “Will Oros go into a rut?”
Because I… I don’t want that for him. At least not in the way I’ve witnessed before with other Alphas.
“Yes,” she says. “But he’ll be able to control it. I’m more concerned about how it’ll make him feel to watch you suffer, because he’ll feel strongly about guarding you through it. However, he won’t be able to touch you or help you, and that’ll hurt more than any rutting urges.”
I frown. “He can control his rut?”
She looks at me. “He’s one of the strongest Drakonians I’ve ever met. If anyone can control his need to rut, it’s Oros.”
I swallow. I believe her. But part of me doesn’t want him to have to control anything. “Do you think… he would knot me if I asked?”
Her eyebrows rise. “Do I think…?” She trails off and clears her throat. “I think you should tell him how you feel, Taliana.”
But what if he says no? I want to ask, but don’t. It’s an insecure question driven by two decades of feeling unworthy.
However, Oros has more than proved this week that my being a wolf doesn’t matter to the dragons here. And he wouldn’t be courting me if he didn’t like me, right?
So why am I nervous? I wonder. Why can’t I just… ask for his knot?
That Omega from the other day did. She was bold and fearless when requesting his help for her heat.
He turned her down.
Because he has no interest in courting more than one Omega.
He says he wants me. He’s spent all this time getting to know me. Maybe because he’s my guardian. Maybe because he wants to make me feel comfortable and accepted here.
But hopefully it’s mostly because he truly does want me like I want him.
There’s only one way to know for sure, I think, swallowing. I… I have to tell him I want him.
And I know just how to do it.
By making a nest.
In his bed.