Page 144 of Ruled By The Alpha

Finally, he withdraws from me and removes the blindfold. I relax back into the cushions, running my hands through my hair, replete, sated all the way to my soul.

He stretches against my side, drawing an edge of my gown over our bodies to ward off the cool night breeze. He strokes the pads of his fingers—his claws retracted now that the mating frenzy has been satisfied—over the sealed bite mark. “You’re well-claimed.”

I turn slightly to kiss him and play my fingertips over his jaw. “As are you.”

He slides his hand under the silk of my gown, finds my thigh, and draws it over his. There’s a firm prod against my belly. “Again.”

Chuckling, I wind my arms around his neck and nudge him onto his back.

“Like this?” he asks.

“Like this. Let me show you the pleasure of having an Omega who is accounted an excellent horsewoman.”

Grinning, he cups my hips and plants me firmly into the saddle of his hips and thighs.

*

Many hours later, we twine together, my back to his chest, watching as the golden moon sinks into the purple horizon. This is not the first night I’ve spent in a lover’s arms. But nothing about those lighthearted tumbles with Beta boys prepared me for the deep joining of flesh and spirit between Alpha and Omega. Those were passing summertide pleasures. This is a seasonless, starlit dissolution of our souls into one another.

He twirls a thick strand of my hair lazily between his fingers. The sweet greenness of nasturtium mingles with the spice of sage. He plucks a flower out of my hair and slips it between my lips.

As I chew, I trace my fingertips over the veins of his hand, running faintly gold with his Gift. “I have a boon to ask of you.”

“Anything.” He grumbles. “Anything that does not break my vows to the King.” Another grumble. “No, anything. You are my Omega. My duty lies with the King, but my heart lies with you. Ask anything; I will give it to you.”

“It’s nothing dire,” I tell him. “An Omega I was contracted to mate before I revealed—one of the male Omegas—has asked to remain with me, to be my attendant. He will be sold to a male Alpha if he returns home, and he dreads that fate. Whatever happens, however things resolve between us, could he find sanctuary with House Tomarr?”

“Of course,” Morgan says. “I’ll have Justlinn petition the King for his wardship when we return to Ainesthan. That way, he always has Tomarr’s protection.” He strokes my stomach with his other hand. “This gives me comfort. If you decide to mate Justlinn and become the lady of Tomarrhai, I worry you’ll find it a lonely post. I’d much prefer you had a friend.”

I turn over in his arms and brush a warm kiss across his mouth. “Thank you. For Rivvard, but more, thank you for not demanding your due. You could force me to mate Justlinn, if you used our bond against me.”

“Never,” he promises, curling his arms around me and holding me close. “I’ve seen too many Omegas broken that way. Never will I use our bond to override your will. I’ll ask. I’ll argue. I’ll do everything I can to persuade you. But I’ll never force you, Kieran.”

And that, more than our mating, our bond, or the feelings blossoming in my chest, is what decides me.

*

A warm brush over my cheek wakes me. I smile sleepily.

“Before you open your eyes,” he whispers, his breath ghosting over my lips. “Know you are the most beautiful womanI have ever seen, ever will see. I know the colors of your soul, its scent, its taste. Nothing can change that.”

He kisses me, a golden morning kiss. When he lifts his head, I open my eyes and smile up into his.

He cups my face, his thumb moving over my cheek. The rough pad is cool against my flesh. Although his claws have retracted, there’s a faint prickle to his touch. As though my skin had been too long in the summer sun.

“Look at your shoulder,” he whispers.

I do, pressing his hand between my jaw and collar.

Beyond the curl of his fingers, a deep, mulberry red stains the skin of my shoulder. I grope at it, feel its heat. “What—?”

He gently turns my head back to meet his eyes. “It spreads from your shoulder to your forehead.”

I press my fingertips to my face, feeling the prickling warmth. “Did I lie in something?”

“It’s the Mother’s mark, Kieran,” he says, his deep voice soft and slow.

“The Mother’s—”

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