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Esmeral finally wakes up, snout first. Her nostrils are working hard before she’s even opened her eyes, and they snap open in delight when she realizes Isavelle is here, and she’s brought chicken necks. I watch with a sleepy smile on my face as Isavelle feeds them to her, one by one.
When they’re all gone, Esmeral gets to her feet and leaves the overhang. Scourge accosts her immediately, sniffing her all over to reassure himself that she’s all right.
I follow Isavelle out from beneath the rock and get to my feet.
My mate turns to me. “Thank you for comforting Esmeral. And…thank you for comforting me.”
Isavelle turns to go, but I pull her back against my chest with one arm around her waist and my hand gently cupping her throat. Just a little domination to soothe the wild beast in my heart.
“Can I make a suggestion to my Omega?” I murmur in her ear, and Isavelle nods, hugging my forearm around her waist with both arms. “Go back to your room. Bury yourself beneath a pile of blankets, and find your slick with your fingers. Find where feels best and rub it hard. Keep going and going until you burst all over your fingers, and then cram as many of them inside you as you can. There’s nothing dirty or wrong about it. You don’t need it, but you have my permission. You can have it as a command if you want.”
Isavelle’s eyelashes flutter and she breathes in sharply. Her scent erupts around her, fragrant and sweet.
I pestered enough Alphas over the years to tell me what Omegas enjoy. What women enjoy and what gives them relief. I talked to the Temple Mothers. I listened to dirty stories. Hunted down explicit drawings. I was determined to wait for my mate to try these things myself, but I craved toknow.
“Think of me while you do it because I’ll have my length in my fist and sliding myself up and down while thinking of you. Say,Yes, Alpha.”
“Yes, Alpha,” Isavelle moans.
I put my teeth against her throat once more. My dragines drag against her flesh, and I groan with desire. “Good fucking girl. Your Alpha is so pleased with you, Omega. He always is.”
I slowly let her go and Isavelle heads off in the direction of the bluff, her gaze heavy lidded.
“Other way, Isavelle,” I call, grinning as she abruptly turns around and heads for the castle as if she knew where she was going all along.
When I’ve watched her cross the stone bridge and enter the castle, I turn and brace my forearm on Scourge’s flank and bury my face in my sleeve. My other hand fumbles for my pants and I loosen them, and my hand dives down to grip my aching knot. My dragon’s scales are hot against my body, and I can sense him watching Esmeral. Our Omegas are so fucking beautiful. I picture Isavelle in her nest and start to stroke myself up and down. Hidden beneath the blankets and touching herself. Dragging her slick-covered fingers over her clit, and then burying them deep inside her. A few rounds by herself and she’ll be aching for me to do it for her with my stronger fingers. Thicker fingers. All the filthy words of praise I can spill into her ear while I rub her pretty clit. Her slick gushing down her thighs. Welling up around my fingers as I sink inside of her. Fuck.Fuck.
I think about spreading her open and tasting her slick. A tight little virgin Omega begging for her Alpha’s knot, rolling onto her belly, pushing her hips and ass up into the air, and presenting herself to me. Begging me to rut her so hard we break the damn bed.
My balls tighten. Cum races up my cock and gushes in thick, white ribbons on the ground. I clamp my hand around my knot, squeezing as hard as I can, imagining it’s Isavelle’s pussy that has a death hold on me. Twisting. Gripping. Tugging.
I sink my teeth into my forearm and bite down until I taste blood.
Sweet fucking release.
I push myself back into my pants, do them up, and gaze at my bloodied arm. I’ve never bitten myself before, even in a rut. I’m going to go into a rut before Isavelle’s true heat gets here, I can feel it. Fuck knows how I’m going to cope when it arrives.
23
Isavelle
Years ago, Dad had too many ciders at the May festivities and crawled out of bed to milk the goat complaining that he felt like death warmed up. Ma banged the milking buckets together and said in a ringing voice that he looked little better but it was all his own fault, and the goat wasn’t going to milk itself.
I giggled into my sleeve at the time, but as I drag myself out from between the sheets with a pounding head and make my way unsteadily across the floor, I have a newfound sympathy for my father’s delicate state that day. It’s not a hangover that’s drained the vitality from me and left a sour taste coating my dry tongue. Instead, it’s a day-and-a-half false heat, but the effects seem about the same.
Water.
I need water.
I lift the ewer and drink straight from the lip and dribble water down my nightgown as I swallow it down. Between all the sweating and slicking and forgetting to eat and drink, I’m parched.
Gasping, I lower the ewer and wipe the back of my hand over my lips. They tingle, making me think of Zabriel. I can feel the ghost of his muscles against my thighs and breasts. The man watched me sweating and whimpering in a nest of blankets, and the memory makes a little flush of heat go through me.
I was so wet for Alpha because I want his knot inside me.
My cheeks color at the sound of that breathy Omega voice, and my core clenches on nothing like it’s hoping to feel him there. After talking with Zabriel, I went back to bed and tried to touch myself in the ways he described. It’s what Alpha asked of me, but I was told again and again you must never do that, even before I was stolen from my village. The local Brethren priest taught the children of the village all the rules we must obey. Self-gratification is the sign of a weak and senseless person. I don’t think I believe that any longer, but it’s hard to silence years and years of that accusatory voice in one night.
There’s a knock on my door, and I open it to find a Temple Maidens standing there in her red robes with a bright smile on her face.
