Page 19 of Omission

“Don’t, cousin.” A cough. A groan of pain from his accomplice. “We can’t.”

“Is that your final answer?”

“Yes.”

“N-no,” they say in unison and I appear again, right in front of a pallid Angelo. He’s shaking and his breathing becoming choppy, the anxiety coursing through his body making it difficult for him to express himself. He starts and stops several times, no words coming out, but I’m a patient man and simply stand there. Watching him. Seeing how he breaks while behind me, there’s a bit of noise, the groan of Flavio standing, and then my senses twitch the second I feel him touch my dagger. Stupid move. “King Leonardo, I’m sorry. We’ve made a grave mistake and—don’t!”

I don’t move. Don’t dematerialize.

Instead, I chuckle. “Go ahead, Flavio. Just remember, I always pay back with kindness.”

“And they’ll make me a hero for this. There’s a price on the head of every one of your family members.” Instead of answering, I close my eyes and let him do as he must. This is me being benevolent; he will not kill me, much less with my weapon, and I’m proven right when the knife pierces my shoulder in a clean incision.

There’s no pain. No burning sensation.

Rather, I’m given a taste of love with it as a beautiful pair of eyes appear before my closed ones. They’re violet and a little large—an air of innocence in them that makes me smile—but what warms my chest and causes my cock to give a sharp throb is the slow flutter of her long lashes.

Who do they belong to? I do not know.

Yet something tells me they are real. This wondrous creature that’s soothing the stab wound is important to me somehow.

“What have you done? You idiot!” Angelo screams, pulling me back to the present. It rends the air and hurts my ears a bit, but I breathe through the mounting need to smash his head in.

This warlock won’t be killed today—there’s usefulness in him—but I can’t say the same for Flavio.

“I took care of their problem, cousin. King Larue wanted a diversion to take the woman and we outdid ourselves.” Flavio’s tone is cocky. Bold. Amused, yet it’s his cousin I’m facing. Angelo sees my smile, the absolute fire in my eyes when I open them again, and he shakes his head while lowly pleading for mercy. The now dried blood on his cheek cracks with every word. Please. I didn’t want this. He tries to gulp in air—choking on his desperation—while Flavio chuckles behind me, and I’ve yet to make a move. I’m calm, still under the effects of those gorgeous, doe eyes as the blade is pushed in a little deeper. “Besides, Lilou promised me the free use of her lovely cunt and a lower fae female as a slave, if I managed to kill a witch.”

His own people. A confession heard by his king.

“Pray.” One word, but it carries the promise of death. I’m not weakened in the least, and I don’t remove the dagger from my skin. It’s safe there for the time being. “I’ll give you three minutes to do so.”

I disappear again and move over to the opposite wall and directly behind the two. They’re facing each other, their heartbeats increasing as the adrenaline rises—as fear takes over their nervous system.

One is shaking while he drops to his knees and bends forward until his head touches the cold, concrete floor. His words are muffled by the position, but I catch his pleas to the gods to help him. There’s an apology or two mixed in, and I’m appeased by the way his crescendo grows until the cries of a scared man fill the room.

“Shut up!” Flavio hisses, his reaction different from that of his kin. He’s sweating, yes, limbs shaking, and yet his bravado remains. The man swings in a circle, crazed eyes searching for that which he won’t find until I decide, and yet he doesn’t give up. “Help me find that knife. It couldn’t have vanished with him.”

That’s where he’s wrong; I can manipulate anything on my body. That includes weapons.

“Show yourself, Your Highness,” a command, and I almost chuckle. Almost. The venom—how he spits out my title—earned him another strike against his already long list. “Be a man, and maybe I’ll make your death one with dignity. I’ll let you pray like your mother did before they killed her.”

The wrong choice of words.

I know that. Angelo knows that.

Red: the color of violence and life, representing both sides of the spectrum, and my eyes see nothing but the hue as I strike. In the blink of their eyes, I’m behind him, leaving an inch or two between us as I manifest and kick the back of his knees. They buckle and his body weight crashes hard on the ground, a pained groan leaving his lips, but he has bigger things to worry about than bruised knees.

Unadulterated rage has taken hold of me, and I’m yanking the piece of shit’s head back until there’s an unnatural crack heard, the sound of a vertebra breaking under my force, but that’s not what I need. I want his pain while my magic demands retribution.

To cleanse the floor with a crimson wash. To hear the screams of pain.

Nothing else but watching the life drain from his face will suffice or calm the warlock in me.

And for the first time, I’m not above my brothers-in-law—no sense of peace or rationale left in me as I yank the blood-stained opal dagger from my flesh and return the favor. I puncture the side of his neck, push it in deep as Flavio screams, and then slice him from one side of his neck to the other. The blade cuts through him as if he were butter, surgically opening him deep enough that I’m able to stick two fingers alongside the blade and press on his trachea.

He’s frantic and trying to push my hands away, eyes wide and scared while his life’s essence spurts. It coats my shirt and face, some of it landing on the back of Angelo’s head who refuses to rise from his place on the ground.

“Would you like to pray now?” My tone is condescending, meant to taunt him. There’s a gurgle as the blood accumulating chokes him. He’s having a hard time breathing, and I give Flavio comfort by unleashing a bit of my power as his king upon him. And for as much as he wishes to fight against the aura, his body betrays him, and the neck with my fingers buried deep alongside my dagger bends for me, further creating damage.

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