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Fainting was a slight improvement on vomiting, at least.
"How did you manage to avoid Evans?" I asked as we neared the tent flap. I was relieved for her, and curious too. Was she so little favored that Evans didn't even care to mark her? "I threw up on him," Mairwen murmured. I'd already started to step through the parted canvas as she answered, and her words struck me hard, a sudden bark of laughter rising up from my chest.
"May I suck and kiss and lick and squeeze your breasts until you can't stand another second, until the pressure in you is too great to bear and you burst, Mairwen?" Ronson rumbled. Oh, that.
I picked up one slightly matted lock, ignoring the tired burn of my eyes, and set to work on repairing the mess I'd made of my omega. If only I could quit smiling and feeling so damned pleased with myself at the same time.
"My lord, that isn't—" "Don't be prim, omega, or I will be forced to use these laces to tie you up and remind you that there is no one better acquainted with how pleasing your form really is than myself."
"The Posy carriage is called," I managed, refraining from the rest of what I would've liked to say. It's time to say goodbye to your damned parents. Unless you'd rather I simply toss them out without another word. Let's not invite them back. I
"You've got visitors. Niall seems to think you won't be pleased to see them," DeRoche warned.
"Better dealt with than ignored," she called up to me.
"Tease me, and we'll make them wait even longer, Mairwen."
"Mairwen. Is this not your fist in my chest? You clasped it around my heart, and you now demand every beat it issues."
"The only thing I want more than to have a child with you, is to ensure you remain at my side for as long as possible,"
"I want my mark on you. I want a life with you—my whole life, not part of it. I want you to have my strength, and I desperately need yours, Mairwen. I don't want an heir. I want a child. Your child. Ours. When and if you're ready."
My mate. My omega. My love. Mairwen.

