Page 16 of Omission

Coming soon.

Soon.

Just like the shadow’s whisper. That last word gives me the strength to take in a deep breath and let it out slowly, only then do I do as he asks. There’s darkness in those brown orbs, and they watch me with a sick mixture of hunger and distrust. “Why would I want to be near a woman I don’t know? Especially a powerful witch at that.”

“Are you scared, Anaya?”

“Because of my father, all Wiccans hate me. He put a target on my back.”

His chuckle grates my nerves; I want to push him away. “That we can both agree on.”

The heat from his hand grows, as does the pinch of his blunt nails breaking the skin at my hip. It stings. How he managed to cut through the fabric of my dress, I don’t understand, but then I smell it: charred fabric. The textile beneath his touch is being singed as he digs in, tearing until it’s flesh on flesh.

How is he doing this? Did he hide this ability from my father?

“Let. Go.” It’s a hiss dripping with my pain. My side hurts so bad. “Stop this.”

“You have nothing to fear, ma princesse.” Yet the threat is there. Unsaid but ever-present. “Never disobey me, and I’ll protect you.”

“Please stop.” Two words, pathetic in my begging, but he eases the torture and removes his hand, only to bring those same fingers up to my chin. Tips it up with two heated digits and smiles. “Why are you doing this? Why do you want someone who doesn’t want you?”

“Because I can.” Honest. Unashamed. “It’s a lesson I learned from the man you loathe more than me. One that will cost the life of our new prisoner.”

Is that what this is? Do they plan to kill the woman?

“Why is she here, Brice? That was no ordinary witch.”

“Isabella Moore is—”

“The Wiccan princess turned wolfen Luna?”

“You know?” There’s a smidgen of surprise in his tone. Shows in the narrowing of his eyes. “Then I’m sure you understand why you’re here?”

“I’m not hurting her. I refuse to.”

Laughter, unadulterated and dark, filters throughout the room, tinging the space with his wickedness. Everything around me seems to accept his mood, the unleashing of his aura that overwhelms but doesn’t overtake me. Instead, it attacks and tries to find weakened spots in my defenses, hitting me with the quick strike of what feels like the snap of rubber bands.

It stings but doesn’t do any damage.

He's toying with me. Does he know of my powers?

“Your job is simple here, Anaya. Take care of that Luna cunt and do as I say.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Don’t ask questions you’re not ready to hear the answers to.”

5

LEO

Out of the three kingdoms, I consider myself the more restrained ruler. Not passive or less lethal, but more like my father, who was feared because his strike, much like mine, is always meant to destroy. King Paolo Moore bestowed second chances and forgave until the last of his patience waned, and when it did, the prior Wiccan monarch was unrelenting in his pursuit of justice.

He craved peace and ruled much as I do, a man who values life, and that includes those outside of my aegis: werewolf, vampire, and witch alike. Even humans and then the merfolk who rarely leave their beloved sea. Every soul deserves a chance until proven unworthy to breathe.

My brothers-in-law don’t always see it that way.

Theodore’s always been bloodthirsty and unapologetic. Xadiel’s dominant and brutal.

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