Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
brIGID
Iwinced as I opened my bedroom door and found the alpha in the hall. He was smiling broadly, but it faltered at the first glimpse of me, and I considered slamming the door in his face.
You're embarrassed. Get over it. You can turn tail and run back to the cottage, or you can see this through.
"Good morning," he said, smile stretching once more. He moved suddenly toward me, and I jumped back in place, the pair of us freezing and staring at one another.
He was too handsome. It made me want to tear my eyes right out of my own head, just to spite the effect his alluring looks had on my good sense.
It made me bold and nervous, trying and failing to seduce a man who'd offered me charity in a moment of impulse.
Malcolm would've laughed right in my face last night and then let me fumble my way through giving him a cheap release.
Torion had simply dismissed the notion entirely.
I should know better than to try and secure a dragon's affection.
Slowly, Torion reached for me, large hands cupping my shoulders and drawing me a step closer, meeting him halfway.
I held my breath, but he inhaled deeply as he bent over me, that dark, rich purr rising once more from his chest, smoother this morning than it had been the night before.
The sound sunk down into my own chest and then glowed its way out through my limbs, like a sip of brandy.
His nose brushed my cheek, and my body trembled, startled by the intimacy.
My blood thrilled, a plucked string vibrating with an eager note.
Warm lips caressed over the spot, and I squeezed my eyes shut, suppressing their sudden stinging.
"Good morning," he said again softly into my ear, the heat of his breath brushing over the lobe and down my throat. I couldn't make my own voice crack to answer him, but he leaned back and continued. "I'd like to fly us around some of the region today. Introduce you officially."
I nodded. It made sense. Better not to tuck me away as if his claiming me was an accident. It was what we'd discussed, after all.
His hands smoothed down my arms, squeezing gently at my elbows before releasing me, drawing a sheath of fabric off his shoulder. "I brought you this to wear. It was my mother's. It should keep you warm and make a good statement, I think. If you like it."
He held it out in front of him, letting the fabric drape open.
My eyes widened. It was the same plaid he wore around his waist, blues and browns and greens weaving together but with an incredible wealth of embroidery covering the surface—unfamiliar animals crawling down a line of gold, birds soaring across a broad map of blue wool, vines twisting through the pattern of the Feargus family colors.
"It's beautiful," I murmured, taking it from his hands. "She did this herself?"
"Much to the local dragonkins' consternation," Torion said wryly.
I huffed. I'd worn Malcolm's colors until I'd spilled wine on them one night at dinner and he'd declared me too clumsy to be trusted with them. Embroidery as decoration would likely be considered desecration, but it was lovely and further proof of the former alpha's devotion to his omega.
Devotion that certainly didn't exist between Torion and me, and yet my hands were lifting, greedy fingers reaching for the fabric. It was a kind gesture, and a smart one, and probably meant as recompense for last night's rejection.
I took it from his hands, stroking the fine wool between my fingers, the silk of the embroidery smooth and gleaming. I wrapped the length over one shoulder and around my waist, my breath catching as I looked up and found Torion much closer than before, a worn leather belt in his hands.
"And this was my father's," he said, not hesitating this time to circle me in his arms, fastening it tightly around my waist with a tug that drew me closer to him, too close to catch my breath.
Except I must have, because my head was full of that warm, ashy scent of his, like burnt cinnamon.
"When he was a boy, his father made it for him, and he passed it down to me. "
Being so close to Torion's body was like standing in rays of sunlight, heat soaking into my skin with every passing second, leaving me drowsy from my sleepless night and content to remain in place.
It was such a pleasant feeling that I barely noticed as one large hand reached for my chin, taking it in a gentle grip.
My heart stuttered in my chest as he grazed his mouth over mine, soft and almost polite, if not for the slight gust of minty breath that slipped between my parted lips.
"They'll know you're mine," he said, stepping back before I'd made up my mind whether or not to kiss him back.
I knew enough of men to recognize the approval in his gaze as he looked me over. Was it simply seeing the mark of his family on me, or…?
"Come," he said, clasping my hand in his and then tucking it around the inside of his elbow, towing me down the hall at his side, nodding his head in greeting to every man and woman we passed on our way down to the main hall. "Have you eaten already?"
If I said yes, I might escape this sudden attention from the alpha and my own foolishly awkward response, but the truth was I'd eaten poorly the night before, too nervous with anticipation for my attempted seduction, and not at all yet today.
"If you have, I'd claim your company anyway, if you can spare it," he continued.
"Why?" I asked, and then realized it was the first thing I'd said to him today. I thought I caught a slight darkening of his cheeks, and he swallowed hard, revealing a flash of nerves before clearing it away with another smile.
"I want your opinion on some of my plans," he said, shrugging, as if that wasn't a shocking announcement from an alpha to his omega.
I stopped him with a tug on his elbow, glancing around and finding us mostly alone, aside from a servant waiting by the far door. "You don't need to make up to me," I said softly.
He shifted to face me, and I ignored the strange impulse to arch as I stared up at him.
"Make up to you?" he repeated, not bothering to temper his volume.
I swallowed and noted the eyes of the servant on us, as well as a couple others from the balcony above.
"For last night," I whispered, keeping my eyes lowered to the floor. "You don't need your omega's opinions, and you don't have to…"
Torion cleared his throat, and even with my stare off of him, I could catch the way he seemed to swell briefly before relaxing once more. "I do. Even if you're just humoring me by listening, it will help to think things through out loud."
And then his hand settled at the base of my waist—did he tuck two fingers beneath the belt or was I imagining the gentle pressure of his touch there?—and ushered me to the table by the fire, laden with a modest collection of covered plates.
"We'll talk about last night later," he added, barely breathing the words into my ear.
"Oh, let's not," I gusted out.
He laughed but didn't speak until we were settled side by side and he'd piled a plate high with steaming rolls, thick slices of ham, a few sausages, a generous scoop of coddled eggs, and a heap of roasted vegetables. I gaped as he set it in front of me.
"Eat as much as you can stand," he said, and then paused, frowning. "Unless you think you're likely to get sick on my back."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Flying," he explained with a grin. "Do you get carriage sick? It's not the same, but it's the best I can think. Or did Barr ever fly you—?"
Oh. "I'll be fine," I said, trying not to think of those few moments of flight, so many years ago, when I was dizzy with love. Or perhaps just dizzy with the rush of flying. Had that been part of Malcolm's illusions too?
"It seems easy until you have to do a full day of it," Torion said. "My mother didn't get sick, but she'd spend the next two days in bed with all sorts of aches. Do you ride much?"
Do you want me to eat or answer a dozen questions? I wanted to ask.
"Not since I left for the cottage," I said, carefully stepping around Malcolm's name, my past. "I rode a great deal when I was a girl, however."
Torion nodded and looked thoughtful. "Well, it's a bit like that. I'll do the steering, you just need to keep your seat. Would you like to choose a horse from the stables? Or we could buy you your own. Perhaps there's a young—"
"Torion," I said, picking up my fork and knife in tight fists. "Tell me one of your plans so I might eat some food."
I immediately regretted the words, the bite in my tone, knowing I'd stepped wrong and been disrespectful. I braced myself for a harsh whisper, a dark scowl, something worse perhaps?
Torion just laughed, loud and easy, not quite booming like I'd remembered his father, but an open and hearty sound that brushed away my nerves.
"You're more than welcome to take a room here, Feargus," Lord McKinney said, for the third time since we'd sat down at their table to supper with them.
Word must've been traveling fast through Grave Hills because we'd clearly taken the first two betas by surprise with our visit, but by the time we'd circled Torion's territory and reached McKinney, he'd produced his entire family—and the man had managed to get his omegas with three sons over his lifetime, so the family was sizeable—to join us for dinner.
It was a noisy affair at the end of a noisy day of people pretending to be pleased for Torion when it was perfectly apparent that they were just happy to have a bit of gossip to share with their neighbors.
I wasn't sure if we'd given them an adequate dose, really. Torion kept me close to his side, grazing his hand over my back or waist or shoulder, and occasionally I'd found myself caught in his stare, receiving a purr in my ear or a brush of his lips over my cheek or the crown of my head.
It had me on edge. Although the edge wasn't…unpleasant.