My father blew out a breath and shook his head. "His motivations are meaningless when he is offering you the security of surviving, Mouse."

"I am not a mouse," I spat, yanking my hands from my father's, fisting them into my lap.

"Mairwen," my father pleaded.

"This is a scheme, Father. A bad one. A treasonous one," I said. Ronson had given me the choice, and in a cruel, backwards way, my father was doing the same. I wanted to march into the streets and scream at top of my lungs what omegas were being denied, these secrets that our dragonkin had kept from us.

"Mairwen, listen!" my father snapped, and I flinched and then wanted to roar at him and myself for the reaction. "With the alpha gone, there will be no one to protect you. Even if you survived the child⁠—"

I stood, a loud, sharp ringing in my ears, a dark vibration in my chest. When the warning note settled, the sound of my own snarl was all that remained in the quiet.

"What did you just say?" I asked, and my voice was lower, thicker, a growl in the words.

My father sat back in his chair, eyes darting to the door.

With the alpha gone…

"Mou-Mairwen, wait!" my father cried out.

But I was already racing for the door, tearing it open and ignoring the resulting bang! as it crashed against the wall. Palmer startled outside, just across the hall, and his lips flattened with one glance at me.

"Where is he?" I growled.

"What did you say?" Palmer asked, looking over my shoulder to my father.

I'd had enough of men speaking around me for one day, enough of being overlooked for a lifetime. There were sharp points pricking into my palms, and my hands stretched for Palmer, grabbing him by his gaudy coat and yanking him into the room. Ivory claws tore holes in the wool.

"Where is my alpha?!"

Palmer paled now, surprised by my strength, perhaps, or by a woman's anger in earnest. Or perhaps it was the sight of the blue flames that licked out between my lips, reaching for his face.

"Precisely where he told you he would be, Omega Cadogan," Palmer answered, taking a breath, trying to straighten in my grip, to regain his footing. "If he's not dead by now."

I shook him hard, staring down at him, watching him grow smaller in my grip, my knuckles sharpening, the room too hot and tiny and crowded with men.

"Fang's fire, what's happening?!" my father shouted.

Palmer's eyes were wide enough to see white around his irises now, and there, in their terrified reflection, was a ferocious creature with sharp horns and bright eyes. I was dizzy, breathless, but I couldn't faint in front of Palmer. I didn't dare.

"Posy, get back!" Palmer shouted, and I was buffeted by waves of sharp, crackling energy, like lightning. He was going to transform into a dragon, here in this small, pretty blue parlor.

He would tear the castle open.

Eat him, the new voice in me purred. He will stick between our teeth, but it will silence his tongue.

I roared at him instead, delighted by the sound, by the release of pressure in my chest, and dragged him over to the windows.

"No, wait!" Palmer scrambled, pulling a chair onto its back as he grabbed it in a panic to stop our progress.

I threw us into the glass, shattering it against hard scales.

"Mairwen!" my father screamed.

The air outside was warm and fast, caressing against me, and falling was not so different than flying with Ronson as he teased me and dove toward the waves.

Ronson.

My mate. Our mate.

I roared, lifting my head to scorch the air with excess fire, and with a scalding, tearing sensation, I spread my wings to take flight. Caught in my claws was a smallish dragon, gray-brown with flecks of blush red, and he snarled and twisted, biting at my scaled grip, but his fangs were weak and his body was light.

It took my wings a few tries, my rhythm unsteady, but soon, we were rising. I barked a sound, a cry of joy. This was my flight. My body.

My dragon.

The dragon in my hold snapped its jaws hard around my front left leg, finally catching a tender spot of my hide, and I roared and loosed my claws, dropping him free. He screeched and turned midair, wings beating frantically to escape me.

Not so fast, little rat, my dragon purred, and together we swooped down to catch the beast in the clamp of our jaws, dragging him out toward the sea.

Squash this pest first, then rescue my mate, I thought, and I soared through the air, chest full of pride and fire.

OceanofPDF.com

Chapter Thirty-EightRONSON

Igrunted and snarled, twisting toward the dragon that had just jutted its horns into my right flank, snapping forward to bite. Claws swiped at my left wing and I roared and flailed briefly, irritated and tired, swarmed by too many enemies at once.

I shouldn't have told Niall to go.

Gamesby hadn't been issuing a challenge. He'd come for a cold-blooded mutiny. And I sent away my only chance of a witness.

But I wasn't dead yet. Gryffyd Evans was crumpled on the ground, leg broken and unconcious. Tybalt Dunne had a broken tail, and in spite of catching my wing, his own on the right was nearly done for. One more good hit, and I would ground him.

Unfortunately, that still left me⁠—

A large, heavy body threw itself into my side, and my flight faltered, sagging in surprise, giving Gamesby time to gouge his claws into my belly. But no matter what he wanted to believe, he wasn't as strong as me. He hadn't fought my father for the role of alpha—he wouldn't have survived that challenge. And I didn't intend to let him survive this mutiny.

I belted fire and charged forward, rolling us midair, letting his claws dig in to hold him against me and turn him onto his back. He released me then, twisting and diving, trying to stay out of the reach of my claws, but they caught his spine, tearing down his dense hide—not serious damage, but enough to make him scream in protest. Jaws gripped my tail, but I ignored them, finishing my swipe at Gamesby before turning to address Cambeth's bite.

I would survive.

I would win, and then I would have a very good reason for taking these men, these thorns in my side, and stripping them of their titles and their lands, locking them up, and putting them through a humiliating court of justice. If they had omegas and children, I would put all their properties and assets in the women's hands.

I kicked Cambeth away, bit through Tybalt's wing, wrestled Julian into a retreating somersault, and turned back to Gamesby. If I could finish him off, the others would likely back down. I just needed to⁠—

A roar sounded at a short distance, rolling through the air to reach us, and a shiver raced down my back. Gamesby and I grappled at one another, and I allowed him to spin me around, just so I could see the dragon approaching.

My heart sank.

The beast was enormous. And it wasn't Seamus or Torion, which meant it was likely someone here to assist Gamesby. I might be able to beat these four—no, three now; Tybalt was grounded—dragons, but not if this fearsome creature came to help them.

I had never seen such a dragon before. Could it have been from a different isle? Even Gamesby had lost focus, and for a moment we all caught our breath, hovering above the ground.

Their golden scales shone brilliantly under sunlight, and the large body was adorned with sharp horns, their color dipped in the blue-green of the surrounding sea. The bones of their wings were thick, the sweeping motion long and a little uneven, but the talons on the tips were deadly looking.