Page 41 of Omission

As her mate, it’s my job to unleash every single bind that holds her back. I’ll unleash my precious one while giving her the reassurance she needs.

13

ANAYA

I don’t know why it’s bothering me so much, but the more time passes, the more irritated I become. We just met, and yet I claim his as mine. I’ve accepted his claim on me, and validated our reactions to one another—the signs of a fated mate have been there since the moment he said hello.

But this female witch bothers me.

The look of contempt she gave me before walking out of his home reminds me of the hate I saw in Lilou’s eyes, how my mere existence ruined her plans for the future. Brice’s sister had plans of grandeur on a reality budget of a mistress, much to her brother’s embarrassment.

I heard him chastise her once. Called her a pathetic whore who should aspire to be more like me, and less like their mother.

That cut her deep, the hurt was plain on her face from my hiding spot behind a pillar. Tears spilled down her cheeks, but Lilou didn’t wipe them away as he continued to berate her, and at that moment, her real dislike for me bloomed.

Just like this Chiara woman. Same contempt and ire.

“Was he going to tie himself to her?” My words are lost beneath the overhead waterfall feature in Leonardo’s walk-in shower. The almost too-hot water and the pressure feel amazing on my back, as does the perfume of his shower gel. It’s bergamot and cinnamon which only enhances his already delicious scent.

Right now I feel as though I’m surrounded by him.

“Maybe they knew each other, but she had a crush…” I trail off, rubbing the lather across my chest and lower—from nipples to my swollen clit—and each pass elicits a shiver from me. Every inch of me is sensitive, I’m curious to explore when the opportunity has never been this safe.

There’s no one wanting to take from me. To punish me for their mere enjoyment.

Because I’d be called so much worse than a whore if I’d been caught touching myself back in the fae’s realm, my father would’ve had me publicly flogged to cleanse me of sin. Not because we’re a prudish people. It’s quite the opposite. Faes are known to be insatiable lovers who welcome both female and male partners, multiples at that, without there ever being any prejudice from our society.

We accept and are open when it comes to sex, well everyone, but me was allowed to be.

In the eyes of the high court, I’m a doll never to be soiled.

It’s why I continue a little lower in this empty shower and stroke across my entrance, almost shocked by the way it clenches on nothing and the feelings it evokes. I feel empty. Needy.

A little more pressure and I slip inside to the first knuckle, closing my eyes as a rush of heat envelopes me. Wetness slips from me, I’m so slick that on the next pump of my finger, I take it fully and moan.

“Sweetest fucking sound in the world.” I’m startled by his rough voice, the hunger in it, and let out a small shriek-turned-whimper when I turn around to face him. My male is standing mere inches from me and wearing only a pair of boxer briefs that do little to hide the hard appendage straining against the fabric. He’s thick and long, the shape clearly outlined and the water falling over us only serves to highlight his perfection.

A hard clench has me biting my lip to catch a moan.

It takes a moment for me to speak, but when I do, I’m breathy. My need is clear. “What are you doing in here?”

“I’m exactly where I belong.” He steps closer, closing the gap between his body and mine and when we touch, I feel as though I’m taking my very first breath. It’s impossible to put into words what I’m feeling—how he affects me—yet there’s no denying how right this is.

Having him this close.

His skin against mine.

I feel as though I’ve gone through life without sight or smell until him.

“Do you feel it, too?”

“Since the moment your scent slammed into me, I’ve been yours.” Bringing a hand to the back of my neck, Leonardo tilts my head back while he lowers his to meet my lips. Just skims them across a few times in a feather-light touch that elicits a low keening sound from me. And he likes it, the heated pools of blue darken and his grip on me tightens, while the hardness barely contained by his underwear brushes across my abdomen. “No other woman before you and there will be no other after, Anaya. My mate has always and will always be my only one.”

“But Chiara…oh fuck,” I hiss when he wraps his other hand behind my back and lifts me just enough to slip between my thighs, my back against his shower wall. When he lowered his boxer briefs? I do not know or care. Instead, I’m enthralled by the way he’s not trying to take me, but rather pressing against my core and flexing, each throb forcing a deep and wanting clench from me. “She said…I watched…oh Gods that feels good.”

I’m squirming, trying to shift and find the friction from a minute ago. My body is begging for more. For things, I’ve never needed before but right now feel as though I can’t live without.

I want this male and understand we’re a soul divided that’s been reunited. Hunger for him on a carnal level, but what if—

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