My shoulders were tight, wings squeezed close to my back, as we left my office and started the trek to the dining room. My own steps thundered in my ears. Mairwen had been pale this morning, and she'd been sick the night before, thanks to damned Gryffyd. Maybe I could have our own dinner sent up to the nest. I wasn't sure I wanted to share her with Niall, who'd been picking at my choice all day, and Beatrice, who wouldn't say a word out loud but would absolutely deliver all of them with a look. Except if we were alone in the nest, I probably wouldn't be thinking of food, and she'd been sick the night before because of Gryffyd, and⁠—

"Ronson, if you're going to rip my wings off, I wish you'd get it over with," Niall muttered, edging away from me.

I cleared the snarl from my throat and shook my head, shoving aside the horrifying imaginings of Gryffyd Evans cornering Mairwen.

We'd reached the dining room, Beatrice waiting outside with a straight back and her hands folded over her skirt, and a pair of footmen pushed open the doors. I searched the hall.

"Where's—"

"Coming!" a bright voice called from the far end.

I swallowed my own tongue as a flushed and disheveled blur rushed closer. Mairwen's cheeks were splotched with color, her dress rumpled, and the high-collared, opaque fichu she wore under her dress had been abandoned, revealing a spectacular array of soft flesh from her neck down to her heaving and flattened breasts. Their form spilled slightly over the straight neckline of the dress, eager to escape, and my mouth watered. How full would they be once she was out of that corset? I needed to know, far more than I needed anything as silly and useless as a meal.

"I'm starving," Mairwen admitted in a soft blurt, flashing me a quick smile. Her skin was patched pink and red from exertion, but would be creamy-pale when calm.

"So is Ronson," Niall said, patting me hard on the shoulder. "Just look at him. Practically salivating."

I growled at my half-brother, and Mairwen's shoulders hitched up toward her ears. I was going to make a terrible mess of the evening, I just knew it.

My claws dug into my palms as I watched Mairwen chew on her lip. We ascended the stairs up to the nest together, one of her arms linked through mine, the other fussing and fisting around her wrinkled skirt. Her nerves had become increasingly obvious throughout the evening, as she'd grown silent and avoided my gaze across the dinner table.

I, on the other hand, had become increasingly aware of a simple fact—I was attracted to Mairwen. To the young woman I'd considered irrefutably plain just a week ago. I wanted to sink my teeth into her flesh as it bloomed with color, fill my hands with those hidden curves beneath her dress, and I wanted those damned amber-gold eyes staring at me.

"Lord Cadogan⁠—"

"Ronson," I said, but it came out as a snarl, and I covered Mairwen's hand on my arm before she could pull away. "You no longer need to be formal with me, Mairwen." Especially when you consider where I'm leading you and what I plan to do when we get there.

Her cheeks blushed and her steps faltered, and that wickedly tempting and evasive scent whispered to me. "Ronson, I was late to dinner because, well… It's just that I…I don't think the nest is very good. I just wanted to warn you."

Without an omega to guard and hoard for my own pleasure, I hadn't needed a nest in the past, although I'd built myself utilitarian versions of the structures for privacy. I still didn't understand the supposed perfection of an omega nest built for an alpha. It was another piece of our dragonkin mystery that I had yet to experience, but at the moment, it was the least of my concerns.

Mairwen was fidgeting and blushing, and she was going to bruise her poor bottom lip unless I found a way to soothe her. We'd reached the door to my bedroom and I stopped, grasping Mairwen's shoulders and turning her to face me. She stiffened in my grip, but she released her lip from the abuse of her nibbling.

"The rut won't start tonight, Mouse," I said, ducking my head down. The nickname slipped from my lips—I'd heard it too many times today, and she had that skittish nature at the moment—but I paused as her expression fell, the warmth receding from her startled gaze. Damn. She hated that nickname. I ought to have banished it from my thoughts, and I regretted it ever landing on my tongue. I slid one hand up from her shoulder, greedily learning the texture of her skin, beautifully smooth and delicate. I sheathed my claws and ran the backs of my fingers up her throat, nudging my knuckles under her chin. Her lips were parted, but I'd lost her scent with that stray comment. Never again, I vowed to myself.

"Mairwen," I purred, and her pupils widened. It was a start. "Are you nervous?"

Her brow furrowed. "Of course I am."

My lips curved up at her honesty. She might be nervous, but she was braver than most to admit as much.

"A kiss." I'd meant to ask a question like a gentleman, but instead, the words were a softly growled order.

Mairwen eased slightly, and my impatience won out. I tipped my head to the side and slanted my mouth over hers, catching the salt from dinner on her lips. My left hand stroked down her spine, drawing her into me, as my right cupped her jaw and held her in place.

What was the solution to the puzzle of this omega? I wanted to know all of her secrets, not just her perfume or the shape of her or why everyone—even her parents—called her by a nickname that made her shrink away. What would it take to know this woman I had chosen on a whim after decades of waiting to find someone?

She hummed as I licked the seam of her lips, then sighed and opened to me. She wasn't timid in the kiss, but she was certainly still learning the pattern. I pulled away slightly, searching her face and smiling as I found her eyes shut and her cheeks flushed.

"Have you kissed before today, Mairwen?" I asked, rasping.

She blinked, and I shooed away my pride at her dazed expression. Her nose wrinkled as she answered, "Only last night with Mr. Ev⁠—"

I growled, and my hand on the base of her back tugged her closer. "He doesn't count."

Her lips pursed, and she stared openly up at me. "I'm not doing well, am I?"

I huffed out a laugh and pressed a quick peck to the round tip of her nose. "On the contrary."

And there it was—amber syrup and warm gold, richer than before, clinging to her lips as her breath hitched. I snarled and caught her mouth roughly with my own, impatient for that flavor.

Compliments, I noted for later, too busy drawing Mairwen closer, discovering the soft swell of her ass under layers of fabric and shamelessly digging my fingers into her. She whimpered as my tongue stroked hers, and her arms swung around my shoulders, grasping at the back of my jacket.

Kisses too, I added as Mairwen's perfume bloomed a little more. My knees bent, my body searching for the fit of her against me, muscles tensing when I was denied by the restrictive dress. The open hall at my back became oppressive, a dangerous pressure on my spine, warning me that I had my omega out in the open. And yet it was all I could do not to tear her dress open and feast.

Mairwen gasped as I reared back, and I nearly lost any good sense I clung to as I stared down at her. Her breasts were so ripe, straining at the collar of her dress, and the red stain of her flush had the odd effect of making my mouth water and my teeth ache.

"Open the door," I said, clearing my throat to shake out the urgent snap in my tone.