I rested my cheek on my folded arms. "You always do."

"Your talons are exceptional," Ronson said, shifting over my back, one of my wings lifting briefly as he examined the talons at the ends of my wing bones. "I've never seen longer and sharper. And the blue tips remind me of the sea."

I wondered if I'd ever grow used to the profuse compliments Ronson was able to offer me. I hoped not.

A touch landed on the upper edge of my wing, and I startled in place, Ronson chuckling. "Sensitive?" he asked, his hand gently cupped around the thick ridge of bone and muscle and leather.

"Y-yes, and it's so…new. Your touch is suddenly reminding my body or-or my brain that it's there at all," I said, trying to twist to watch his gentle caress. I had wings, new limbs, and they had never been touched before this moment.

"Mmm. They're still soft," Ronson mused. "You still have the velvet on your hide. Wait here."

He slipped from the bed, and I lifted just enough to finish undoing my loose corset and then to shimmy out of my torn slip, kicking it down into the sheets. Ronson returned, purring with approval. I squeaked as it was his lips and not his hands that found the lower curve of my bottom, slow, wet kisses passed back and forth over my cheeks and up to the base of my spine. His tongue circled there for a moment and then vanished.

"Good girl, getting yourself ready for me. Now relax while I have my revenge," he said.

I shivered at the first brush of his fingertips over the flesh of my wing, the sensation still slightly foreign but no less arousing, and then moaned as he pushed my wings into a spread. I'd spent a long time studying his wings, and now that I knew just a small fraction of what it must've felt like, I was beginning to understand the true nature of his revenge.

"This will help keep the velvet soft and the leather from growing tight or dry," Ronson said, ignoring my buried whimpers as he rubbed the fragrant substance into my new skin. "Now we can tend to each other."

"Gamesby wasn't entirely wrong," I whispered, trying to distract myself from the deep thrills rushing up my wings, into my back, and down into my core.

"Mairwen," Ronson warned with a growl.

"Some of the island will be too shocked to accept an omega dragon," I said.

"They haven't a choice," he said firmly, but he settled his weight on the backs of my thighs and then sighed. "Some will balk, yes. But you are my omega, and I am their alpha. What's done is done. I wouldn't change a thing. You don't think any omegas might be envious of you?"

I blinked and propped my chin up. I hadn't thought of that. I wondered if perhaps there were other women on the island who would be pleased to see that an omega could have her own wings too. Francesca would've run riot with wings. Katharine would appreciate the dignity…

Adelaide. Adelaide would be jealous. Spitefully, marvelously, viciously green with envy. And humiliated once Gamesby's betrayal was revealed.

And pregnant. And alone.

My petty victory cooled quickly.

I sighed and stretched beneath Ronson. "We have to make changes, Ronson."

"We do. We will. Lift your wings for me, mate."

I did so and Ronson shifted, pausing at my side, his gaze traveling slowly over me, lips faintly curved. When his eyes met mine at last, his smile stretched.

"What are you thinking?" I asked, grinning and expecting wickedness in answer.

"That you are the most beautiful dragon, woman, omega, everything that I have ever had the incredible fortune to stumble across in my life," Ronson said, the answer soft and simple.

I blushed, but I didn't hide from him, just spread my wings a little more, shifting slightly to my side to offer him more to admire.

"If I recall correctly, I was the one who stumbled into you," I said.

Ronson laughed and bent, his arm circling my waist, lifting me up and over his lap. Our wings curled around us, meeting at the edges, the hooked talons at the top of the joints linking together like hands clasped.

"Right as usual, mate," he murmured, hiking me up slightly, our soft moans lost in a kiss as our bodies centered and joined in a smooth stroke. "Perfect as always. Mine."

"Yours," I whispered, gasping as our wings moved, dragon skin and velvet brushing together, a perfect private shelter created between them, light just barely stretching through the skin to make us a rosy cave to hide in. "As you are mine."

"Oh, yes," Ronson said, grunting as his hips hitched, grinding against me and making my own breath catch. "Yes, I've been yours ever since I caught you in my arms. Seduced by an ill-fitting corset."

It was patently absurd, so I hushed him with a kiss and held him deep inside me, rocking us softly to our pleasure.

OceanofPDF.com

Chapter FortyMAIRWEN

Ipaced in front of Ronson's office, pausing every so often to let the rustle of my skirts and wings settle, hoping I might make out some of the softly-spoken words from the other side of the door.

This was silly. Ronson had offered to let me sit in on the conversation with my father. Except I was afraid of what I might hear, that I might try to influence Ronson in the wrong direction. I did love my parents and I understood that they loved me, but there were pieces of our relationship that were broken, and if my father had schemed with Gamesby and Palmer against Ronson, I didn't want to excuse those actions.

My mother's voice trembled from inside the office, and my hands twisted in front of me. I hadn't wanted to see them yet, not until after Ronson had made his decision. Father had likely seen me transform, and according to Niall, there were already several rumors floating around the island regarding the golden dragon who'd flown in a lather across the sky yesterday. Rumors about the incarceration of the betas who'd attacked Ronson too. Already dragonkin and humans were gathering in the festival field, waiting for our arrival, for the answers to their many growing questions.

The door cracked, and I startled, stepping back out of the way. It was Niall who exited the office rather than Ronson, and I breathed a sigh of relief as he offered me a reassuring smile.

"Coming in?" he asked softly, tipping his head back into the room.

A small part of me, the part society called Mouse, wanted to scurry back up to my rooms or into the library. I shook my head and rolled my sore shoulders, my wings flexing as I stepped forward. Ronson had taken me flying in the dark the night before, getting in enough practice for me to be steady on my own. He wanted me to fly with him for the announcement this afternoon, for the island to see me as a dragon in my own right. Beatrice and I had even done a little clumsy work to one of my dresses to make it acceptable in the meantime, splitting open the shoulder seams and two slits down the back before relacing it around my wings.

Better not to delay, I reminded myself, then walked into the office.

My mother gasped, falling down into the chair behind her, but my father remained standing, eyes wide.

"It's true," he murmured, stepping forward and then freezing. "I could barely believe what I'd seen, but…"

"Wings… I read a-a silly story once where an omega had wings," my mother murmured, her stare glazed as it traveled across one of my wings and then the other.

My eyebrows rose in surprise. "I wondered if some traces must've remained, in literature or art." I shrugged and my wings moved with me, and both of my parents stifled another gasp, as if they still weren't quite sure if they could believe their own eyes.