"What?" Mairwen asked, still panting for air.

"Open the door, Mairwen," I said. I couldn't do it, because my hands refused to release her. My thumb stroked the hollow of her cheek in resolute protest.

She hummed, unable to turn and look at the door when I was holding her jaw in my firm grip, and her hand fumbled until she found the knob, twisting it and throwing the door open. She squeaked as I bent and lifted her up, one arm banded under her bottom. It put her chest at eye level, and I groaned and stumbled, burying my face between her breasts. Her fingers slid into my hair as she whimpered, her touch combing through curls and pulling gently on strands. I considered the advantage of the floor beneath us and how it might serve as well as a nest for my purposes of being inside Mairwen as soon as possible.

The nest.

She was worried about the nest. Compliments made her perfume. I would⁠—

I lifted my face from her now brilliantly pink breasts—there was a rough mark that must have been from my mouth, and I licked my lips, delighted by the taste of salt and honey—and turned toward the bed.

"Ah."

No, Ronson, you idiot, I cursed as Mairwen's perfume withered and she sagged in my arms.

"I warned you," she breathed.

She had, unfortunately, been right. It was not a very good nest. Mairwen had draped several sheets over the posters of my bed and tied them in a knot at the center, slightly tented by a rope hanging over one of the hooks from the beamed ceilings. It was thin, small, and probably not very secure.

In her defense, she had never had to build a nest that would stand up to a dragon, let alone one in the middle of the rut's sexual frenzy.

She's nervous and she's inexperienced, I reminded myself.

She was also squirming. My arms tightened around her briefly and then relented, setting Mairwen down on her toes.

"I can—I can do a bit more now," she said, turning toward the nest.

I caught her by her shoulders and yanked her back to my chest. "No," I said, softening the harsh word with a kiss to the crown of her head. "This will do very well for tonight."

"You don't have to⁠—"

I spun her, muffling her words with another kiss, pleased as she sank into me, opened her lips and sighed as I swept my tongue briefly against hers. My interest hadn't cooled, but my good sense had clawed its way up from the haze of lust.

"I have an idea," I murmured, grazing my mouth back and forth over Mairwen's.

"Hmm?"

She was delicious, and for a moment I wavered. Even inexperienced, she was so sweet, so responsive. I could easily ensure her enjoyment and my own tonight. I could have her stripped and under me in the shabby nest. I could have my hands and mouth everywhere I wanted them.

Because I was the alpha.

I swallowed hard and stood straight, combing the loose strands that had escaped Mairwen's tight twist of hair back behind her ear.

"The rut will come soon and I will need you, badly," I said, and Mairwen's eyes fluttered open, glowing brightly. She nodded, and I wanted to groan and give into all my base wishes at that dazed surrender. "But until that time, I think we ought to…explore one another."

"Explore?" Mairwen echoed.

I nodded. "You should have a slower introduction to sex than…than what I might like to do at the moment," I said with a rueful smile.

Mairwen's lips twisted, and her eyes cleared. "Like practice, so I know what I'm doing during the rut?"

I frowned. The words were right, but I also somehow felt as though I misstepped.

"Yes, and so I know what to do for you, Mairwen," I said. "So you know what to expect and aren't frightened, or uncomfortable."

She wet her lips with a pink tongue that I was already craving another taste of, and her gaze slid away from me. She scowled at the nest she'd built, and I found myself staring at the mark I'd made on her chest. Had I…bitten her? And why couldn't I recall?

"Could we take turns?"

My mouth went dry at the question.

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Chapter EightMAIRWEN

Islid out of the alpha's—Ronson's, I corrected myself—grip and felt as though I could catch my breath for the first time since we'd left dinner alone. I hadn't given a great deal of consideration to his mouth before he'd pressed it to mine, but it was marvelous. And shocking, and very, very skilled, because I couldn't feel anything but the swollen tenderness of my lips and a deep ache in my core.

"It's true that I…I'm not really prepared for your rut," I said, braving a glance at Ronson, choking on air slightly at the sight of his dark and probing gaze. He'd been sending deadly looks to my dress all night, but it wasn't censure to me, and my uncomfortable corset had never been more of a strain to wear than it was now. The scratch and drag of his stubble against my breasts was still vivid in my head, and my hand fluttered up to cover the spot he'd nipped at and swirled his tongue over.

"I've never seen a man naked," I blurted out, stumbling backwards.

Ronson's eyes narrowed, and his smile was the curved edge of a blade. "Would you like to?"

"If it was you," I admitted, my face on fire.

Ronson stiffened and his eyes fell shut, a low, rumbling purr rising from his chest. His shoulders rolled, and then he was pulling at the snaps and ties that fastened his jacket in place.

"Wait!" I cried out, and he stopped immediately, coat sleeve still clinging to one thickly muscled arm. I swallowed hard and unclenched my hands. "You said…you said we should explore each other."

Ronson nodded, and I wondered if he realized how absolutely terrifying his expression was. I was reasonably sure he wasn't mad at me. He was rough and growling and glaring, but his mouth had been much gentler than Gryffyd's as he kissed me, thorough but tender.

I tiptoed tentatively back to his side, and he released the fabric of his coat, giving me his arm instead so I could complete the task.

"You undress me, I undress you, we take turns?" Ronson asked.

I winced at the idea of him unbinding my laces and corset and seeing me in all of my…me-ness. "Well. I was thinking tonight would be my turn to explore you, and then…maybe…tomorrow⁠—"

"You're not getting into my nest until I get you out of that awful contraption," Ronson grumbled, a shameless finger hooking between my breasts and down into the collar of my dress to tug against my corset, the warm digit wedged against sensitive skin and making me break out in gooseflesh. "Even if it is your turn."

It was an awful contraption, and I let out a snort at the masculine snarling pout on his lips.

"I get to keep my chemise on," I bargained. It was quite thin, but in the shadow of the nest it might offer a little disguise.

Ronson was silent, and I glanced up to find him staring speculatively down at my chest again. Surprisingly, he blushed when he realized I was watching him.

"Fine," he said.

I sighed and tugged his coat sleeve away at last, stepping back to study his white linen shirt. There were carefully disguised buttons under a folded placket that ran across the line of his shoulder and then down his back to his wings. I reached up and started on his right side, relieved as he tipped his head back and away, eyes lifted up to the ceiling and giving me a break from their oppressive focus.

"I won't know what I'm doing," I murmured, unpicking the buttons one at a time and taking the opportunity to admire the strong lines of his throat, the shadow of a beard that hadn't been on his face this morning.