Chapter 4
Chapter Four
TORION
Iglared back at the sun streaming through my bedroom window, far too high in the sky for my body to feel so leaden and my eyes so wooly.
I needed to give the keep staff new instructions to wake me earlier.
As the alpha's son, it had been easy enough to get away with sleeping until I woke naturally.
Now there was too much to be done, too much that my father had let slip off his plate after my mother's death.
First and foremost, however, I had to deal with the matter of the omega in my keep.
A hazy vision rose from the night before—a petite woman in shabby, too large homespun clothing, but with clear bright eyes, handsome features, and a heavy braid shining like a ruby in the firelight.
I scrubbed my hand over my unshaven jaw, thinking of the woman.
She'd been prickly and sharp and nervous, and every word she said had sobered my mind with a new, unfamiliar urgency to act.
I'd thought at first she might've been another trap set by Barr, but the spiteful way she'd spoken of him had been too convincing.
She needed my help. As alpha, it was my duty to do something for her.
That was the cause for my determination, naught else. I was alpha now, and it was my responsibility.
It had nothing to do with that first breath of her, a fresh scent, like a clear day in the hills, the sharp promise of rain in the air, and then a deeper sweetness, a syrupy and yet almost savory note, like molasses. She smelled like the very definition of home.
The problem of the land dispute might be simple enough, provided good land was all Malcolm was really coveting.
I could negotiate a parcel for him on his terms. But there was spite in the position he'd put his omega in, and that spoke of a more complicated twist. I wanted the woman away from his machinations, but that would mean putting another woman, probably a younger one, in his way.
I rolled away from the sun with a groan, planting my hands in my bed to rise up, when the sound of a distant male shout, nearly a bark, echoed through the keep and to my door.
With a cold shock of warning, I leapt from the bed, scrambling into a pair of leather trousers—there wasn't time to wrap my plaid—and throwing open the door, nearly scaring a maid into dropping a jug of water.
"Who is that downstairs?" I asked, snapping the words a little too hard.
The maid gaped at me, and I shook my head, pushing past her.
"A local beta, my lord. His omega is—"
Brigid Grant. It didn't matter how drunk I'd been—fairly, but not terribly—her name was as clear and firm in my mind as her voice had been, as the hard little tip of her chin as she'd stared stubbornly back at me.
I ran down the stairs, the stone hard under my bare feet, cold morning air nipping at my bare chest.
"Going behind my back—"
"You cannot take my home from me, Malcolm!"
The beta snarled something too low to hear in answer just as I made it to the balcony that overlooked the great room.
There were a few betas that lived near the keep watching the scene, watching the large man reach for Brigid Grant, her spine stiff as she leaned back but refusing to give quarter by stepping away from him.
All at once, the worst and simplest solution rose up in me. The idea I'd toyed with and rejected a half dozen times in the night before falling asleep with it rooted in my imagination.
"I know you aren't about to touch my omega, Malcolm Barr."
The room stilled into a tableau of outraged shock, every man and maid freezing in place, aside from one. Brigid stepped out of reach of the beta who'd berated her, moving toward the stairs. I took slow steps to meet her, keeping my eyes on Barr, pleased with the silence of her acquiescence.
"Alpha Feargus," Barr said, turning my name into a curse. Someone had tended the scratch my dragon had delivered to his right wing, plastering it to give it time to heal. He wasn't up for another fight with me. "Brigid may not have been at my side at recent events, but you cannot be unaware—"
"You cannot be unaware that the alpha has the right to take the omega he chooses. Whoever she may be," I said, descending the stairs.
Of course, it would be akin to declaring war to claim another man's omega.
"I have not lived under your roof for five years," Brigid murmured.
Malcolm raised a brow and glared at her. "In fact of contract, you have."
"In fact of contract, that roof now belongs to me," I said, raising the signed papers in the air. "'And to whomever she is bound, she brings with her the assets left to her.'"
There was more, and I wondered if Brigid had seen it there, or if she'd taken Malcolm at his word. Her freedom was nearly in the contract. It would take someone to argue her case, but it was possible.
My current solution was simpler.
Barr's upper lip curled with menace, but he focused that stare on Brigid rather than me.
He'd always been obsequious with my father, and that facade was failing to stand in the face of this betrayal.
Which was what this was. I wasn't a fool.
He probably thought I was doing it out of spite for the way he'd orchestrated the other betas against me in the battle yesterday.
For that reason alone, I'd searched for a different solution, knowing too well how much it would cost me with my new position to steal an omega away from one of the betas.
It wouldn't please the other men for me to appear so pettily vengeful on the back of a victory.
"She's barren," Barr spat out.
Then again, he's a bastard, I thought, all remorse vanishing.
Brigid flinched, a sharp catch of breath and a faltering step. But I'd reached the main floor, reached her, and as she swayed back, I caught her waist in my hand. For a moment, her weight leaned into me, surrendering. Smug, dark satisfaction unfurled through me, my wings spreading around us.
This was a terrible plan. I'd have Barr and the other betas at my throat for years at least, a clear line drawn between us. I'd fight them tooth and nail for every proposal I issued.
It was right too. Brigid gathered herself once more, body lean but strong, and made no move to pull away from me.
"Then you will have the opportunity to find a more fruitful partner," she said, chin lifting. She had a long, graceful throat, and she hadn't replaced the shawl tucked into her dress this morning, so the lines and shadows of her clavicle were on display, elegant and a little too pronounced.
"We can discuss land. There are—" I started, knowing any consolation would be too belated an offer now.
The beta growled, hands fisting at his side and jaw working under the heavy dark beard. "Keep your pity parcels. I'll keep my anger, Alpha Feargus. Don't show weakness now, not when you led with force."
I restrained my sigh as the older man turned to the door.
"Good riddance to you, Brigid Grant," he called back.
She turned toward me at the insult, face too blank to be unaffected. I let my low growl echo across the stones of the hall.
I took in the state of the room. There were five other betas, and only one left with Malcolm Barr, both northerners.
Barr had been obnoxiously loyal to my father, but the other man had often been a dissenting opinion, arguing against the few reforms my father raised.
Seeing them together told me enough of my suspicions of Barr.
"Wait here," I told the other men, two of whom looked wary but nodded. The third, an old competitor of my father's, settled into a chair with an amused expression.
Brigid responded to the slightest nudge of my fingers on her back, and we turned up the stairs together as if we were of one mind.
My father's office was at the end of the far wing, underneath his old suite.
I took her there, closing the door behind us, pausing in place at the sight of one of my mother's colorful shawls still draped over the back of my father's chair.
I should've buried it with him, but I was grateful to see it here now.
I'd mourned her loss too, although my own feelings seemed pale in the wake of my father's grief.
"You didn't think that through," Brigid said, pulling away from me at last, turning to face me. She stood with the sun at her back, igniting her hair, outlining her slender frame. I didn't understand the immense force of her allure, but it rang down to my bones all the same.
"I did," I said, leaving out that I'd decided against it until the sudden impulse that struck while seeing her at Malcolm's mercy.
She turned her face, lifting her chin, putting that strong nose in profile. "Then you should know I'm not barren."
I took in a deep breath. "I've no intention of—" Now that we were alone, I could explain the clause in the contract.
Brigid folded her arms in front of her and shook her head. "You can't claim me in front of them like that and then set me loose. It's one thing to wield your power to take what you want, and quite another to do it solely to spite a beta."
I raised an eyebrow. "That's what I've done, though."
Her lips twisted in a bitter frown. "That's what they suspect, but you'll make them sure of it if you turn around and find another omega after dropping me.
I can give you a son. I made sure Malcolm Barr's home was the most hospitable in all the Hills, including your father's keep.
I'm a good omega. The only way they'll ever forgive you, ever trust and respect you, is if they believe you claimed me because you wanted to. "
I fought my smile. She'd called herself a good omega, but I was fairly sure that direct speech would've persuaded most of Grave Hill's betas to keep her out of their homes.
"But I want daughters," she continued, stiffening to raise herself taller. I leaned back against my father's desk, crossing my ankles in front of me, and watched her eyes flick to my bare chest. "I want to raise my children. If I agree to stay as your omega—"
Don't laugh, Torion.
"—you'll promise not to toss me out, cut me from their lives. And the cottage will go to the girls."
"By my count, we're having three children?" I asked, unable to resist teasing the woman.
"At least," she answered baldly.
I understood the cause of the heat in my loins at her answer. Brigid Grant was an attractive woman with a scent I wanted to bathe in, and she was asking—no, demanding—to be bred. Plentifully.
I'd expected—and slightly dreaded—the prospect of choosing an omega.
Ronson Cadogan had avoided choosing his own for decades, afraid of showing favor to the wrong family too soon in his reign.
It'd bit him in the ass, making him look weak and indecisive.
I wouldn't make that mistake, but I understood his reticence.
He had one now, at last, and I wondered if she'd bossed him into it the way this woman was doing with me.
Because Brigid was right—I'd look both an idiot and a petty ruler if I yanked an omega out from one of the men who'd fought me for position as alpha, and then turned around and claimed an entirely different woman.
Especially when this one was strong, confident, and powerfully appealing.
"This is what you want?" I asked.
Brigid let out a sound that was meant to be a laugh, and in it I heard all the nerves, the fear she'd hidden so well.
"I wanted my cottage, my life there, the peace I thought I'd been promised when Malcolm let me leave his house.
But you aren't the only one he'll take this out on.
I need your protection. And you need me. "
I should've been ashamed of the truth that she spelled out so clearly. Instead, I was itching to reach for her, to draw her against me and coax her into telling me again how many children she wanted me to give her.
The promise of a son was a dangerous offer from an omega. Birthing a dragon's wings could cost a woman her life, and for all I knew, Barr had been telling the truth and she was lying to me.
I didn't particularly care. The fun was in the effort of production, and it was a prospect I'd let myself entertain last night before I'd fallen asleep.
"Then you are mine, Omega Feargus," I declared.
She blinked at that, going pale, and then flushed.
Her arms dropped to her sides, stunned, as if it was all occurring to her at once too.
If Barr had hurt her in the past, or she showed any qualms in being intimate, I would find another solution, I realized.
I wanted the bossy little queen in my bed, but I wouldn't drag a desperate woman looking for safety there.
"Good. Good. Then I'll speak to the staff," she said, transforming once more under my gaze, shoulders drawn back and hands smoothing at her skirt.
"The staff?" I asked.
"There'll be a nest to build, order to establish. My cottage..." She trailed off, scanning the room, then darting around the desk.
I stood, watching her take control of the space, sliding easily into my father's seat.
I had allies with other alphas in other regions, but any I might've established here in the Hills would've looked like a preemptive move against my father. I would need an advisor, or at least men who trusted me, who could speak with other betas.
"I'll need some of my things," she continued, wetting a quill and marking her full bottom lip with a line of ink in the process.
"I ought to send someone to keep an eye on it, make sure Barr doesn't retaliate," I said. Her eyes widened, and she nodded.
"And someone to let the patients who come to see me know where I am now."
"Patients?" I echoed, studying her, perversely pleased with the way her attention refused to turn back to me.
"I'm…something of a healer," she muttered, scratching words over a loose sheet of paper. How had a woman who claimed to keep a perfect house for one of the Hill's most prominent betas become 'something of a healer'?
I would need others on my side, it was true. But at least I found myself with an assertive omega. It was a start.