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Isavelle licks the corner of her lips and swallows. “What doesvru’maimean?”
I smile and stroke the blade of my nose up her cheek. “Say it again and I’ll tell you.”
Isavelle hesitates, but curiosity wins out. “Vru’mai.”
She’s not got the hang of rolling herr’s, but that was pretty good. “Mmm, wonderful. It meansfuck me. You can use it as a curse or as a request. If you say it beforedeshit means,fuck me please.Vru’mai desh. Go on, repeat after me or you’ll never learn.”
Isavelle hesitates. “I don’t think it’s appropriate to teach me about your ancient tongue starting with the obscenities.”
“Ourancient language, and of course it is. The first thing you should learn in a foreign language is how to swear.”
“How do you sayfuck you?”
“Vru’je.” I grin wolfishly at her. “But I will never say that to you unless it’s proceeded by,I’m going to.”
Her cheeks grow red, and I watch her playing with the fastenings on my jacket and then hesitantly drawing her fingers through my black hair.
“It’s so silky,” she whispers, then rubs a tress of my hair against her cheek. Her fingers go on exploring me, touching my jaw, and then behind my ear. Her fingers brush the sensitive gland on the side of my neck.
“Touch me there. Please,” I say in a roughened voice, my eyes closing.
To my delight, she does as I ask, her slender fingers trailing delicately over my flesh. I can feel her eyes on me as she strokes me, fascinated by my enjoyment.
“Is this a special place?” she asks. “Where I’m from, people enjoy being touched here, but they don’t enjoy it as much as you seem to.”
Pleasure flashes through my knot, and I can feel myself growing rock hard. My mate is curious about what gives me pleasure. “It’s a very special place,sha’len. The way you’re touching me feels wonderful. You’re giving me so much pleasure.”
I open my eyes and see the way her cheeks are flushed red again from my praise. Another little hint of her designation.
I glance out the window and notice how far the sun has continued its passage through the sky.
“I would love to sit here and teach you all the ways I want you to touch me, but if you have finished eating, there’s somewhere we have to be.”
Isavelle draws her fingers away from my neck. She tries to get off my lap, but I stand up with her in my arms and carry her out of the room.
“I can walk to the dragongrounds,” she protests.
“It’s faster if I carry you,” I say, lengthening my strides and walking at a pace that would have her running to keep up with me. “And I’m not ready to let go of you. Put your arms around my neck.”
She hesitates and then does, and my eyelashes flutter as her fingers touch my nape. The gland there isn’t as sensitive or important as hers, but fuck, it still feels amazing when she touches me there.
At the dragongrounds, Fiala and Dusan are standing near Scourge with their wyverns, along with Captain Ashton himself and another wingrunner called Leibel. Half a dozen dragons of the flare have gathered around, interested in what’s happening in their midst.
Isavelle clutches my shoulder as we approach. “You should put me down now.”
I keep walking with her in my arms with no intention of letting her go. “You’ll have to get used to the king giving orders while holding you in his arms because I’m not going to stop.”
An exasperated expression crosses her beautiful face. She needn’t feel shy. My people are used to Alphas being ultraprotective of their Omegas. In fact, they expect it. No one would bat an eyelash if I sat on my throne issuing decrees with my sleepy Omega napping in my lap.
What a beautiful thought. I hope I can make that happen one day.
I address Captain Ashton. “You’re joining us? Thank you for coming personally. Have Fiala and Dusan informed you and Leibel about where we’re going and why?”
The captain nods, and so does Leibel, a stoic and battle-scarred wingrunner who wears that Beta air of indifference to everything that goes on between Alphas and Omegas. He doesn’t even look twice at Isavelle.
“This could be dangerous. Here’s how this is going to work, and why I wanted more wingrunners to join us.” As I explain the plan, Isavelle gives a cry of dismay and struggles in my arms, but I won’t put her down or change my mind. Either we do this my way, or we don’t do this at all.
A few minutes later, I’m carrying my worried mate atop Scourge and settling her into my arms. All around us, the wingrunners are mounting their wyverns and the svelte silver creatures are spreading their wings.
