Page 4 of Omission

“I’m fine.” Not that he sees me, but I make it so my voice is low enough to not be detected by the others in the room. My sisters hear me, though. In any other situation, it would be comical how their heads simultaneously tilt in my direction while each holds their ground. Not so much as a moment of reprieve is given to my mate’s kin.

Yet as Larue orders Isabella to return to his side, I’m slammed into another memory. I’m here, but not—dragged back to my familial lands and the day the opal dagger in my right hand was given to me a century ago. Reliving the first time its sharp blade made contact with my open palm…

“Who’s that?” I ask Isabella, voice low while watching the stranger closely. Not because I’m wary of him, but because there’s this same sense of familiarity—bond—that I have with my sisters. Why?

“My kind of mate,” Isa whispers back while her lips twitch. It’s small and at the corner, but I catch it and I think he does too. There’s also the way they angle their bodies toward each other, an unconscious mirroring that I think neither are aware of. The signs of being mates are there, just like Mom and Dad were, but something lingers.

Something she's hiding.

“For real?” I’m eyeing him from head to toe now while Isa watches me. Always overprotective and worried, but I keep that to myself. Her mate is a werewolf. An alpha, at that. “He’s huge.”

“You’ll grow into the role, too, young king,” he interjects, but I don’t respond because what’s now in his hand has my sole attention. It’s wrapped in silk and the size gives away what it is, but that’s not why I’m quick to grab and then unwrap it. The moment it’s in my palm, the noise level around me dims a bit; not like Father was able to do, but the reprieve is a blessing.

The dagger is smooth and shiny with an opal-stoned hilt that vibrates in my hand. The movement is barely noticeable to the eye, but in my palm, it sinks into the flesh and merges as if we are one. Meant to be mine.

“This is so cool. Thank you, almost-mate-of-Isabella.” I hear myself say this, but my eyes can’t pull themselves away from the glinting blade and the words carved into the metal. An unknown language to me, but I see the scripture clear as day. Then, there’s this low hum that merges with the dimming noise level—it’s saying something I can’t quite understand. “It feels different, too. Like something’s calling to me.”

“What do you mean?” My eyes flick up long enough to catch a shared look between my sister and her mate. “A voice, or…?”

“Like family, Sister.” I’m nodding to myself. “Yeah, like someone very important wants to say hello.”

“Wants to say hello…” I mutter this after erecting my shield, blocking everyone from hearing me. Everyone but her as I recognize what that sensation was then and now.

It’s connected to this fae woman somehow. To the same aura currently petting and stroking across my limbs, burning me from the inside out, as it’s done all these years.

Back then, it was a light, innocent touch. A warmth that accompanied me every single day. At all times. Nothing sexual, but always comforting—soothing the hole left behind by my parent's death.

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.

It’s always been her.

In my thoughts. A connection that’s grown over the last century, but demanded my attention these last few weeks.

How is this possible? She wasn’t alive then…

Yet one look into her warm, violet eyes, and my world stops. She's where I begin and now end—the prize at the end of my battles. Who I will kill for.

It’s a silent vow as fighting breaks out between the fae royals and my family. They fall one by one while my attention remains focused on my female, barely giving those left standing a glance before returning once again to her expressive eyes. They too bounce between me and the scene before us, watching as her king and his son are left for last, but as Larue is dealt a final blow by an angry god, two men approach my reason for existing. A step at a time, they encroach on her shivering form—forcing her back a few steps, but I’m between them before either man can lay a hand on her.

A royal general and the fae prince; both are surprised to see me when I return to my flesh form as another scream rends the air seconds later, and this time, it’s from a female. My sisters are safe and my family is at peace, but the same cannot be said for the bloody corpse a few feet from Isabella. The sight alone is gruesome, a bit disturbing, and the guard with the shaved head calls out the name Lilou a second before the back of his knees are kicked and he drops to the ground.

Those with us are quick to subdue him and Prince Ruben, shackling both while I turn to look at the fragile doll I’ll one day claim.

She’s simply beautiful. Delicate.

Battling between relief and her grief she teeters on shaky legs.

And the part of me programmed to protect her reignites with a burning urgency that causes every muscle in my body to contract and flex, bringing me just another step closer. I don’t stop until I’m standing within reach. An inch or two of space is all I allow between us, and I tip her face up with the pads of two fingers while my other hand grips her hip to steady her.

Electricity sparks where I touch her, my cock throbbing as I get the first taste of her lithe form within my hold. Even through layers of clothing, I feel her. The delicious curve of her childbearing hips and the flash of heat coming off her skin as the scent of strawberries and crème deepens with a rich note of caramel.

It’s a sugary-sweet and buttery combination. Makes my mouth water as pearls of pre-come slip from my dick while those expressive eyes darken a little.

Motherfuck, her arousal will forever be my weakness. I want to bathe in this heady perfection.

“W-Who are you?” She’s a little breathless now and blushing from the tips of her pointed ears to the swell of her chest. So fucking sweet.

“Hello, little mate.”

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