Page 33 of Omission

“Can I do the same?”

It’s an open question I answer by bending my head and pressing a kiss to her temple. “You can do whatever you wish. No need to ask permission.”

The responding smile I’m gifted is the most beautiful vision. She’s striking. “Then to mine, I want to be simply Aya.”

“Aya it is, then.”

“Perfect. It’s what my mother called me.” So much wistfulness. The bond tugs at my chest with her emotions. “Now, let’s go see Roberto. I’ve done what I can, but he needs help.”

“What exactly did they do to him?” Theodore asks, his brows furrowed. He caught her apprehension—genuine fear and it’s not for herself, but the prisoner.

“They took everything from him.”

Xxx

We enter the elevator and it’s bloodied inside—as if someone was shot or lost a limb—but no one mentions it. Instead, we silently watch Anaya press a button on the panel, effectively shutting us inside, and ascend to the floor right beneath the top.

The ride is short, but the walk down these halls is not.

There are dead bodies everywhere, tossed about the deeper we walk as if a beast ran rampant, and the claw marks across their chest and the walls indicate werewolves. If it was Xadiel or another, it makes no difference as we cross over each corpse in silence, and to her credit, my mate doesn’t make a sound as the fae body count rises. She swallows hard and shudders, but there are no other outward signs of her true distress.

We sense it, though.

The vampires can scent it, while her emotions are mine, and the saddest part is I’m not sure she understands this. That there’s nothing she can hide from me. There will never be any privacy between us.

“It’s at the end of this hall. The room on the right.” Her voice echoes; a sweet little cadence that causes my cock to throb. My body's reactions to hers are automatic; I feel no guilt over this and let my eyes linger over her lithe frame. She’s curvy yet petite and I find that so tempting—a fantasy turned reality—I love that she’s shorter than me.

I can tuck her against my chest for a cuddle or toss her across my bed and fuck her into our mating bed; Anaya is my version of literal perfection with her long, blonde hair and heart-shaped face. With the curves hidden beneath the mounds of fabric hiding her from the world; I’d felt those child-bearing hips earlier and the scented her arousal, two things I could never live without.

Not now. Not ever.

“Do you wish to wait here?” I ask, rubbing my thumb across her knuckles in a gentle sweeping motion. I want her, my cock aches to simply slide across her slit, but her comfort comes before my desires. “We’ll grab him and—”

“He trusts me.” End of. My mate exhales roughly and straightens her spine, not allowing me to argue those words. There are unshed tears in her violet eyes, though, not that she allows them to fall, instead, she shifts her attention from me to Gabriella and mouths I’m sorry to each of us.

I don’t understand it. None of us do, and the confusion is clear as day on our faces, but we’re not given the chance to ask. My mate walks ahead of me, having let go of my hand, and straight toward the mentioned room where a guard comes into our line of sight.

He’s shaking, ashen while holding a high-caliber rifle at us. It’s the same kind the other fae soldiers used downstairs, the translucent bullets inside the visible magazine, and his laser points at Anaya’s chest.

“I’ll shoot, princesse. I will not be killed.”

“Step out of the way and stand down, soldier.” The authority that pours from my female in those two words makes him stumble a bit. His brows furrow and his knees shake, but the weapon remains on her. “I’m giving you a chance here, soldier. Don’t add to the body count and lower your weapon. Leave while you can.”

“Your father would—”

“He’s dead.” The news unsettles the man, every bit of blood drains from his face as shock settles in. His lips open and close, whatever he wants to say is trapped by the news. “And before you ask, Ruben will follow shortly. My father’s reign is over.”

“No. I do not believe you.” Emotional; the fae guard’s state of mind is questionable at best. His finger slips and the gun unloads a single bullet that wheezes by an unmoving Anaya, shocking them both. There’s a part of him that repents immediately—he’s loyal to the fae court—but this mistake cannot be forgiven. “What the fuck!”

My need to protect her overrides everything else, and I’m beside him before anyone realizes I’ve become invisible and re-materialized. His throat is in my hands and I’m lifting him clear off the ground, feet dangling as he splutters and claws at my hands. The minute damage he’s making almost makes me laugh, more so when his face becomes a bit swollen and red from the pressure.

“You dare to shoot at my mate? To almost hurt her?” It leaves me on a hiss, my teeth bared at the man as the tenuous hold I’ve kept on my anger slips, letting Anaya see all of me unrestrained. For her sake, I’ve controlled the urges the magic in my veins calls for.

To fuck her. To kill for her.

I wanted to eradicate her brother and the guard bitch since they first tried to grab for her, but those doe eyes and her scared expression had me reeling the urges back. But not this time. The call for blood burns me, and no cardinal sin could be bigger than trying to harm my mate.

“Please! Princesse, help me!” Gurgled, his spittle flying everhwere. “I’m—”

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