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“It is natural. It is nothing,” I confirmed, tilting her face until our eyes met. She nodded, eyes bright, pupils dilated. Goddess, what had we been thinking?
“The wine? That… That lowered…” she trailed off.
But I had no such excuse. When I told her that, she cupped my face with her hand.
“I wanted it,” she told me, her voice steady. “I wanted you to kiss me… Dammit, Syon. I kissed you first!”
I laughed. She had kissed me first. “We can forget it then?”
“Of course… I should probably go now.”
I nodded. She needed to go, or I would do something rash. I would drag her to the duchess’ nest and fuck her until her own scent was drowned out by my own.
* * *
“I cannot be a leading figure in politics,” I snapped a few days after our aborted billiards game. I couldn’t forget her heat or her kiss. But when she hadn’t mentioned the interlude, had avoided looking at me for the last few days, and had only spoken when necessary, my pride determined it best to ignore the raging need to taste her again. All of her. “My position as a duke does not permit it. To think that I can stand and give this speech...”
“You should! I wrote this for you!” She waved it in my face, and I saw red. Hartwell knew I wasn’t dismissing her work. She knew that. So her anger towards myself was a slap in the face, and one I would not tolerate. Perhaps I’d been too lenient with her, especially since the kiss. I growled and made to snatch the sheaf of papers from her, but she pulled away at the last moment
“Fine, I’ll give it to Gale,” Hartwell threatened, violet eyes flashing bright.
“She won’t make it,“ I dismissed the notion.
“Not the Viscountess. Her son, Frederick is capable. He is standing at the next by-election. My uncle took me to a dinner with them the other night. I’ll give it to him—“
“Frederick? Dinner? You think I will permit you to consort with that ass?” I snarled and grabbed her by the lapels of her coat. I shook her a little, which caused the pages to flutter to the ground, forgotten in the heat of the moment. “You will stay away from that alpha. Not because of his politics. They are liberal to be sure. No, you will keep out of his sphere because I will not have my secretary consorting with a known rake. Just because you like his politics does not make him fit for your company. And while we are discussing Mr Gale, keep Viola away from him as well. I won’t have him sniffing around her like a bitch in heat.” I spoke with sneering anger and could not have expected what happened next.
“Do not call Viola a bitch,” she slapped me with surprising force. When she realised what she’d done, those violet eyes went wide with fear. “Dear Goddess! Syon—”
“I like the fire, Hartwell.” Because Goddess give me strength, but the fight in her made me hard. “But do not ever raise your hand to me like that again.”
“You called Viola a bitch in heat,” she hissed, her fury returned.
“I calledGalea bitch in heat.”
“And don’t insult omegas while you are at it!” she snarled.
“Never was there a greater idiot with an even greater intellect.” There were times when I forgot my own strength. Now was not one of them. I wanted to remind this recalcitrant and alluring creature who the real alpha was. I pulled her across her desk until her face was pressed into the cool wood, her eyes level with my hard cock—Goddess help me, I was aroused by the thought of dominating her. With one hand I held her down. The other pushed her coat out of the way. I wanted as little between my temper and her willfulness as possible. My hand fell with a dull smack on a surprisingly luscious bottom that had her crying out more with surprise than any pain. There were too many layers of fabric between us for me to hurt her. Three more swift hits followed, and she struggled as each landed. Struggling more as I stepped close, my cock twitching in my breeches. I had never been so close to fucking an alpha—would her tie be as powerful as an omega’s cunt? My body responded to her proximity in a way I could not have anticipated. I gave her a final spank that shoved her further up the desk, causing the contents of my desk to topple to the ground. I was on the point of pulling her breeches off, of fucking her when sanity returned with alarming abruptness.
“Get out,” I snarled. “Fix your attitude before you return tomorrow.”
“I have work to do.” Her breath was heavy, but she did not sound defeated. How she had the gall to continue to push baffled me. It drove my temper to new heights. I raised my hand to deliver a spanking she wouldn’t forget when Horne called through the door.
“Your Grace, the tailor is here.”
I swore. I didn’t give a damn about my tailor, but I did need to get away from Vi.
“I want you gone within the hour,” I told my brattish secretary. “Do not talk back. One hour.”
* * *
I ran Paxton and Fordom to ground in a new gaming hell owned by the darkly sinister alpha Oberon Drexler, who dressed in all black and was shadowed by a man known only as Puck, but called the Black Devil for his punishing left. They were as odd a pair as Paxton and Fordom. Though the former were rough when compared to my two… Friends, I decided. We had too many overlapping interests for them to be anything other than friends. The night was young, but the rooms were crowded, for Paxton had won his race between here and Newmarket in record time even with the roads less than ideal. He was being celebrated, though you would not know from the scowl on his face. When he saw me it cleared. He pushed through the crowd to my side. “We must talk.”
“The Hartwells?” I guessed. “I’ve a question…”
He grunted and signalled to Fordom, who followed us into the quiet hall.
Up close the man looked like he’d been through the wars and then dragged backwards through a hedge rather than successfully beating the standing time for a race to Newmarket. “None of us can protect them forever. Mrs Hartwell’s embassy to the French has failed. She and Beatrice are amongst the enemy, and Fordom is struggling to pry them away—both stubborn to the end—I wish to Our Goddess I knew where the vixen was so that I could box her ears and then drown her in the Channel. Now I’m hearing your Hartwell spends all her time with the Countess of Kellingham. As if she doesn’t have enough to do with her time. Exert your power, Orley. You’ve more of it with the twins than we.”
