Page 138 of Ruled By The Alpha

He folds my hand in, tucking it tightly against his chest. “Lead on, Omega.”

I know what he’s really saying. It shivers through me.

Lead me to your nest, Omega.

But I have no nest. The soft linens and pillows my mother offered me remain folded under the bed in my room. Used to a soldier’s firm cot, I cannot imagine what to do with them; nor have any latent Omega instincts stirred to guide me.

Instead, I lead him to the place Rivvard has led me several times. The Mother’s Garden in the courtyard of the Omega’s Tower. There’s fruit and cool, fresh water from the Motherwell. There’s a quiet bower Rivvard favors, piled with cushions to cradle soft Omega bodies, and covered with a midnight-blue awning that will keep off the rain the day threatens.

None of the red clears from my Alpha’s eyes as we walk through the gardens, collecting a basket and pitcher at the entrance, fruit and water along the way. He doesn’t release my hand. The thrumming in my blood keeps pace with our steps. Justlinn trails us, but when we duck into the bower, he walks off to find another bower in which to rest.

My Alpha eases his long body down beside me. We are much of a height, and I am too conscious of it as we sit together among the embroidered cushions, the afternoon’s warm breezes blowing the sheer, turquoise curtains around us like a courtesan’s veils.

“I never forgot you,” my Alpha says, still gripping my hand as I pour water into goblets as rosy as my gown.

“Nor I, you,” I admit. “Sage has been my favorite scent since that day.”

He chuckles, tonguing his fangs. “At court, the bards call you ‘my Sage lady.’ There are songs about you.”

“Good songs?” I ask, working my knife one-handed around a blue-black plum, flicking the pit out with the claws that have not retracted since I scented my Alpha, and offering him half.

He devours it in two bites. “No. I am not well-liked by the King’s courtiers.”

“But you are well-liked by the King?”

He nods. “The one follows the other. I have the King’s ear, although I have no titles, no lands, no wealth of my own. They despise me for that, and for the truth I speak which is rarely to their advantage. So they write songs mocking me for pining after the girl I met under a sage bush.”

“Pining?”

He shrugs as he accepts another plum from my blade.

“When we were hiding under that bush, I didn’t realize you were a friend of the new King,” I say, casting about for a safer topic.

“I am a friend to Edaern. The old King’s brother’s third son, back then. So far from the throne that no one even called him prince. He was scrawny and missing a fang and would have been under that sage bush with us except he’d been confined to quarters for dipping the Queen’s sister’s hair in blue ink.”

I chuckle around my fangs before taking a bite of plum. “He sounds like a good friend.”

“He was. He is still. I’m sorry you won’t be able to meet him.”

I swallow before the plum sticks in my throat. “Ever?”

My Alpha shrugs. “Ever’s a long time.”

“But not soon?”

My Alpha draws our joined hands to his mouth and nips at my fingertips. “No. You’re needed at the Tomarrhai. Probably more than you could guess. Uncle Jus’s been away too long and the Oneswogans threaten with every new moon. I’ve cursed the Mad God’s caprice many times, but in bringing you to House Tomarr, maybe the Mother smiles on us at last.”

I cannot tear my gaze away from the plush lips lapping at my fingers. Nor can I formulate a sensible question with the heated tingle spreading through my body from the contact. My eyes grow heavy as his, a crimson glitter beneath flushed lids. My lips pulse and ache against my extended fangs when his tongue slips out to taste my skin. He notches a fang against my knuckle and gnaws playfully.

“He’s jealous of you,” Morgan murmurs around my finger. “Has been since the day I came back from the old King’s handfasting babbling about the girl I met under a sage bush who’d be my mate some day.”

A surprised breath escapes my parted lips. “You did?”

“The King banned your name from being spoken in his presence. That’s why the bards call you ‘my Sage lady.’ They dare not say it, even to mock me.” He rubs his cheek over my knuckles, dragging my fingers under his chin, scent-marking me. “While he delighted over every report that you were growing into your fangs, he took pity on me and swore that at the end of my twenty in his service, I could retire to your care. To moon over the Alpha who should have been my Omega. But now... now, the Mother’s finally turned a kind eye on me. Edaern is furious you’ve Revealed as an Omega, but it is the first happiness I have known in a very long time.”

I set aside my knife and caress his face with my thumb, plum-sticky. He smiles against my knuckles.

“Are you not disappointed with what the Mother has given you?”

---