Page 35 of Omission

“Anaya, maybe you should—” All noises coming from him cease at the mention of her name. As if a veil of calm overtakes him, Roberto lays back and mouths her name.

Over and over.

In a plea. As a form of comfort.

“I’m here, Berto. Please calm down.” She kneels beside his cot not caring in the least about the dirty mess all around him. There’s old, moldy food and what seems like piss in a bucket and Gods know what else…she doesn’t hesitate to aid him. “I’m here. Just breathe with me.”

Anaya places her hands on either side of his temples and starts a slow rhythmic sequence he’s slow to follow. There are four seconds between each breath, a continuous loop our uncle succumbs to and then falls asleep on the tenth cycle.

My mate doesn’t pull away yet, though. Her powers come alive as he rests, the soft glow of her hand against his skin bringing a bit of life to his body.

Roberto’s cheeks become less gaunt, his ribs less noticeable, and a light sheen of pink touches his cheek. She’s doing this, reminding me of what I’d paid little attention to but Brice made sure to point out.

You’ve been holding out on us, ma princesse. That’s going to cost you.

“You’re a healer.”

Anaya doesn’t pull her attention from my uncle; she concentrates and gives until she teeters atop him. It’s then I step in, I’m just close enough to catch her as she passes out, but I hear her.

Faint. Shaky.

“I am.”

11

LEONARDO

I come awake again, sitting astride Leonardo’s lap with my head tucked against his chest. He’s talking to someone, the deep baritone of his voice almost lulling me back to sleep, but then I realize we’re moving.

Much the way fae do when flying, there’s this feeling of exhilaration that crawls up my skin and I can’t help the giddy smile that stretches across my lips from the sensation. It’s not strong, but there and welcomed and I’m ready to pop off his lap and investigate when whatever we’re on gives a little dip.

My eyes snap open with urgency, the jolt sending a shock through my system and I’m reminded of my weakened state when the world spins around me. I can’t make out faces or what we’re in, but I feel like we’re high up in the sky. Can’t shake the sensation. It’s been so long for me.

We can soar with the beasts that roam the sky, it’s in our nature to want to frolic and feel the air caress our wings, but my father outlawed any form of flying unless you’re part of his aerial military unit. And even then, it’s limited to what he deems—deemed necessary.

“I’m going to need to get used to that,” I mutter low, rubbing my closed fist over my left eye, and then right, my vision is still a bit blurry. In the last few weeks, I’ve healed myself, Isabella, and now Roberto.

The latter did me in.

I’ve been taking care of him for years, slowly nurturing him back into a somewhat healed state when I can, but never to this degree. I felt it the moment we touched, death was knocking at his door, but it wasn’t his time. I’d never be able to help him otherwise.

Fate cannot be challenged. The date of your death is preordained and no amount of magic or luck will change it.

“Get used to what, precious.”

“You calling me that for starters.” I blink again and his eyes are the only thing I can make out. They’re striking, such a beautiful shade of blue—nearly identical to my aura—and a replica of the shadowed figure from my dream. “I’ve dreamed of these before.”

“Of what?” he says, and for a second we shift, my weight being lifted as he moves us somewhere else. Those he’d been talking to carry on, I can faintly make out the voice of his other sister asking a question about a large tree. “Explain.”

“Where are we?” I ask instead as we seem to step into another room and when the door closes, all noises cease. It’s just the two of us. “This feels different.”

“We’re heading home, little mate.” His lips brush my hairline a second before we dip, the surface we’re on contorting to our combined weight, and then I’m settled over his chest. Heat rises from my head to my toes, I feel my face blush, but this only pulls a chuckle from him. “Comfortable?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” His large hand comes up to cradle the back of my head and he pushes it toward his chest, softly scratching the back of my head. It feels so good, but at the same time, I don’t want to stop seeing his eyes. I need to have them on mine, so I shift just enough to the side that I’m able to enjoy him and lay half on him and half on the bed.

“I don’t want to miss anything,” I say in way of explanation, which he replies to with a raised brow. “My eyesight isn’t working well at the moment. I depleted myself.” Which reminds me, I sit up and twitch my nose, ignoring the sudden wave of dizziness that rolls through me from the quick movement. I can’t scent anyone but him at the moment, and I know I heard his sister’s voice. How much damage did I cause myself? “Where’s Berto? You didn’t leave—”

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