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“Zabriel! What are you doing?”
“If you’re going to tell me such a sad fucking story and break my heart, you’re going to be dragged into my arms so I can comfort you.” She’s a warm bundle of soft flesh and gold cloak in my arms, and I press my face into her throat and breathe in.
She’s here. She survived. I’ll make everyone who hurt her pay in blood.
There’s wry amusement in Isavelle’s voice as she says, “It sounds more like you’re the one who needs comforting.”
I pull back and look at her. “Me? I’m the Flame King. The supreme Alpha in all Maledin.” My lips twitch. Maybe I do need a little comfort from my Omega, just to assure myself that she’s all right. “Will you help me be the best king I can be?”
Isavelle hesitates. “As an adviser?”
“As my wife. My queen.”
“But I’m a commoner,” she says desperately.
“Like I said, my mother was a commoner. The king caught her scent one day, and that was that. An Alpha found his Omega, and he mated her.”
“Your people don’t know me. My people don’t want a commoner as their queen. I’m going to cause trouble for you, and it’s not going to be much fun for me either, being singled out like this.”
She’s very strange for an Omega. In my time, her designation would have started to emerge around thirteen years of age, and she would have grown into a woman knowing it was her place to do as she was told. She should hear my voice and melt when I command her to do something.
“I have the answer to that.”
“What is it?”
“Iwant you, and people will do what I say.”
Isavelle puts her little nose in the air and turns away from me, but with my arms around her, she’s not going anywhere.
“I have enjoyed helping the refugees. I might like being your adviser for a little while, but I don’t know you, and I’m not going to be your wife just because my smell turns you into a lunatic.”
“You’re not allowed to say no. You’re only allowed to sayI’ll think about it. I told you, I’m a patient man. I can wait however long it takes for you to beat down my bedroom door and beg me to make you mine.”
Isavelle splutters in outrage. “You’re anarrogantman. Fine, I’ll think about it, but I’ll be thinking about it for the rest of my life, so there.”
I laugh softly. “She didn’t say no.Previet k’len,” I murmur, stroking my finger up the underside of her jaw. Isavelle looks up at me, her mouth just inches from mine.
Kiss her. Kiss her. Kiss her.
My Alpha is practically roaring at me to claim her lips, but I grit my teeth and make myself wait. I want her breathless from my kisses. I want her beautiful cheeks to overheat and her slick to coat my thighs. If I can’t have that, I don’t want anything.
Isavelle frowns. “I’ve heard you say that before. What does it mean?”
“Previet k’len? It means thank the gods.”
“Butlenmeans dragon, doesn’t it? And flame and king.Ma’lenismy king.”
“That’s right, but the word fordragon,flame,king, andgodare all the same in Maledinni.”
“So, when people address you asmy king,they’re calling you their god? No wonder your ego is bigger than the Bodan Mountains.”
I laugh and rub a hand over my jaw. “Well, it depends on the context.” I give her a smoldering look. “I hear some women cryma’lento their mates in the throes of passion. Apparently it comes easily to the tongue.”
Isavelle’s face turns red.
I rub the blade of my nose up her warm cheek and murmur, “I’m looking forward to finding out what comes easily to your tongue,sha’len.”
“Stop it. Everyone’s looking.”
