Page 30 of Omission

“Yes. Always.”

“Thank you.” Because Leonardo’s so tall, I don’t attempt to kiss his cheek or chin—his lips—in public, but I do press my lips to his chest. Chaste. Yet the rumble that flows through him at the act gives me the confidence to do it again before hugging him once more and turning my head.

Because of how we’re standing, I have a clear view of the rest of the room. Those alive stand nearby but give us some semblance of privacy. They’ve pulled a passed-out Ruben and a glowering Brice away, a few feet separating us now, but I barely give them a glance before meeting the set of eyes I seek.

She’s glowing, a heated flush on her face while standing close to her mate, but Isabella is lucid enough to give me a nod. To mouth the words, I told you.

“Thank you,” I mouth back in a whisper, but they’re moving again. Her mate picks her up and nuzzles her neck; he’s whispering to her, and I smile at the sight. I’m happy for her.

“Who are you thanking, precious?”

“Your—”

“Enough of this shit. That fae female is my bride-to-be.” Brice cuts me off, and I’m physically repulsed by the reminder of what my father tried to do. I feel no pity as his corpse lies across the room, nearly cut in half by Aries’s sword. Just like I feel no worry over the future that awaits his son and favorite guard. “Get your disgusting Wiccan hands off her. She's mine. Given to me by her father.”

“No. She isn’t.” Lifting his unoccupied hand, the warlock traces a finger across my cheek and then taps the end of my nose. “This woman was always meant for a king, not a pauper.”

“Tell him, Anaya. Tell him you’re mine.”

My reaction? I laugh. Maybe it’s the nerves. Maybe it’s the craziness of finding this man and my starting to believe his claim on me, but that’s all that comes out.

This is what this male does to me. He makes me act out of character; I become unaware of my surroundings—unafraid of being punished.

Is this what being free feels like?

“That’s as good an answer as I’ve ever heard. Don’t you think?” Cocky, yet the ripple of anger that runs through the warlock holding me tight causes me to pull my head back. Just enough that I can meet Leonardo’s eyes, and when I do, his soften immediately. “But I’ll humor you, anyway.” He’s talking to Brice, but those smoldering eyes don’t leave me. “Are you his fiancée, Miss Anaya?”

“No. Not by choice.” No doubt. Complete honesty.

Leonardo’s jaw ticks, but he nods. “Did Larue promise you to him?”

“Yes.” My voice bares my shame, and after a second, I look away.

“Don’t.” The hand wrapped around my waist skims up my spine until cupping the back of my neck. His fingers expand and flex before tightening just a bit, enough to tip my face in his direction until our eyes meet again, violet on clear blue. “Much better.”

“I never wanted to marry him. I begged my father to end it—”

“Relax. I’m not upset with you, Anaya.” Another rush of pleasure at the way he says my name. Goosebumps rise and my breath catches, eliciting a warm hum from Leonardo. “You’re innocent in this.”

“How do you know that?” Tears form at the thought of him abhorring me for the crimes my father committed. Because of what he stole from all three of the Moore children. I’ve grown up with those stories; the lies and stolen glory King Larue sang about himself to anyone who would applaud him. Those blind followers who praised the man as if he were a god. “How do I know you truly don’t hate me underneath it all?”

“Because I could never live without my heart.”

“But Larue—”

“Is dead, and you’re safe.” Four words, and whatever bit of hesitation was left in me melts away. I initiate the hug him this time, so tight and thankful. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to ever again. They have no hold on you.”

“Our fae princess will never be yours, warlock.”

“She already is.” Thunderous, the declaration reverberates throughout the room leaving no room for arguing. “This was deemed by the gods, and the only reason you’re still alive is because I’ve allowed it. Because I want you to witness the acceptance of our bond. Show you what you’ll never have.”

“Thank you.” Taking in a deep breath, I let it out slowly while giving him one more squeeze. This one’s for me. To show him that while I have so much to still wrap my head around—conflicting voices and false narratives to swim through—I don’t regret meeting him. Sure, I’ll need a minute or thirty to catch up and truly embrace the newfound freedom he’s offering, but I’m not going anywhere.

We’ll figure this out together.

The moment he called me his mate has forever changed the course of my life.

I no longer wish to disappear and live alone for the rest of my existence, away from the fae realm or other societies. Maybe, just maybe, there’s room for me in his, and slowly, I can learn that not everyone in my life is an enemy in disguise.

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