"Can I help?" he asked, sitting up with his hands braced behind him.
"Absolutely not," I said, more afraid that if he came too close to me right now, I might make my fantasies a reality, there on the stone, or in the water, or on the grass. Anywhere, really.
Torion just snorted and returned to his sunbathing. My gaze slid back to him, the long endless lines of his legs, the shadow and soft flesh between them, the beautiful hooked muscles at his hips. My throat burned with thirst as my eyes searched for a drop of water I might lick from his skin, and I hurried back to the path, to the bramble fence, to my home.
But I couldn't outrun my craving for the alpha.
Chapter Twelve
BRIGID
Irubbed my thumbs into my temples and stared down at the cobalt blue gown spread over the bed.
"It's fine silk, my lady," said the young maid, Vera, while eyeing me watchfully.
"Aye. And likely fifty years out of date," I murmured.
The maid hummed noncommittally. The gown had been my mother's, wrapped carefully in more fine silk tissue, and then paper, and stored away in her cedar chest that I'd tasked Torion to fly back to the keep with us. Conveniently, it had required him to shift to his dragon, keeping me from having to make conversation while cradled in his arms.
It was the morning of the selection ceremony, and between planning the feast, running wild through the keep to get rooms ready for guests, and bullying the workmen to get the stage ready in time, I'd gone half mad preparing the alpha's keep. Now was the first chance I'd taken to even consider how I would preparemyself.
I'd enjoyed gowns and jewelry when I'd been Malcolm's omega. I'd enjoyed presenting myself as his, knowing I was beautiful, or at least understanding I could convince others asmuch. My lip curled now as I thought of what a pretty little trophy I'd been, howwillinglyI'd made myself as such.
Malcolm had kept the jewels, of course, but the gowns had been mine. I'd tried to keep them in good condition at first. And then slowly, as spite warmed me at night rather than a good fire or a large man, I'd taken joy in wearing them thin, staining and patching and tearing them down to rags for a more useful purpose than ornamentation.
So now I had an ancient gown of royal blue silk and no time at all to make it into something fashionable.
"Is there a lace fichu?" the maid asked.
I shook my head. "There's only this, I'm afraid."
She shrugged. "A well made gown on a handsome woman can never go so wrong, my lady. Let's get you dressed."
Her words, so matter of factly presented, made me blush and fall silent. I remained docile as she pulled the robe I'd donned away from me and hurried to ready me.
Already, the keep was buzzing, the volume outside Torion's bedroom door rising by the minute. Betas and their families had started arriving the night before, the men camping outside while the young women—the omegas who would be standing on stage—piled into every available guest room by the double.
The door to the bedroom opened, but Vera had me by the hair, tight braids working back from my temples.
"Not too much up," Torion said, appearing in the mirror, the maid squeaking assent as he reached and caught a long lock of my hair between his fingers. "It's sunny today. Your hair is going to shine like amber from our seat."
I bit my lip and studied his sporran in the mirror. "Won't I be on stage?"
Torion had been tight lipped about his plans for the ceremony. I wasn't sure if he intended to make a show of choosing me in front of dragonkin and all gathered or had somesort of perverse plan to auction off the other omegas, but I dug for hints at every chance. Surprisingly, Torion had uttered not a clue. For such an open man as he was, he kept a secret well. I tried not to let him see how much it bothered me.
He knelt down, Vera scrambling to follow as he turned me and the stool I perched on to face him.
"Neither you, nor I, will step foot on that stage, omega," he said softly, holding my gaze too fiercely for me to look away, fire rising in my throat. "We'll have a nice view of the proceedings, where we might be admired as the lord and lady of these hills."
I huffed, and Vera patted the braids she'd finished before curtseying and fleeing from the room.
"Then what—" I started.
My question was cut off as Torion surged forward, cupping my face and drawing my mouth to his, a hungry purr roaring out of his chest to burn against my lips.
"You'll see," he rasped, nibbling my bottom lip. "My rut is near, Brigid."
His mouth covered mine once more, tongue thrusting in eagerly as I moaned, my arms settling around his shoulders to keep him close. A breeze stroked against my ankles, and I realized he'd pulled a hand from my cheek and was now rucking my skirt up, scooting on his knees to fill the space between my thighs.
