Page 11 of Omission: Part 2

The throne is macabre, a symbol of power and domination just like the rest of the room.

Moreover, as you step inside the vampiric royal chambers, the heavy scent of ancient blood greets you, mingling with a touch of sweetness that I recognize as kin.

Isabella, of jasmines. Gabriella, of cherries.

Yet they carry a small ribbon of lavender in their scent markers that represent our familial bond—my mother’s favorite scent—that only we can detect. I carry that note, too. It’s a precaution our parents put into place the day of our christening, making sure that no matter where we are in the world, we can always find our way to each other.

No one can break these ties. We can never be truly lost.

My nose twitches then as another fragrance infiltrates my senses, and my precious one has the same reaction: incense. It burns inside of ornate censers while solid gold sconces and a large, crystal chandelier bathe the room in dimmed crimson light. The glow bounces off the all-black walls and the thick, red velvet drapes that trail from the room’s high ceilings to the polished obsidian floors.

This room is heavy with the lingering screams of death.

This room has witnessed the truest love.

This room is marked by sigils belonging to the God of Death in honor of his children: the vampire king and his bride.

My brother-in-law. My sister.

“Good to see you, Gabby.”

“Hello to you, too, Sister,” Anaya and I answer in unison, my beautygiving me a small jab with her elbow, and I find the action quite adorable. Speaks of the ease she has to joke or correct me—be open and sassy with me—and the smile on my face can’t be missed because of it. And while Gabriella snorts at our behavior, her mate simply raises a brow that’s quickly followed by a nod of understanding.

The men mated to my sisters love them beyond all reason.

Each king is brutal and unapologetic in their blood thirst when crossed, but for their mates, they kneel. Defer and ask—honor Isabella and Gabriella’s wishes—and now more than ever, I understand both sides of their characters.

Because I am both.

A killer.

Anaya’s willing servant.

“Get used to it, King Moore. You’ve been moved to the end of the line.” Gabby’s hiss is playful, and it pulls a giggle from the woman beside me, my female’s shoulders shaking in amusement. We watch her laugh. Even the stoic vampire king softens a bit, and I’m pleased by how they’ve accepted her. As if reading my thoughts, my sister taps her heart. “By blood and pact.”

“We are one.” We answer in unison, and I’m surprised when Anaya’s voice intermingles with mine and Theodore’s.

“What?” she asks, blushing at the intense way I turn my face and watch her. My miracle fae.

“How did you know about?—?”

“Gabriella and Isabella taught me the day after I arrived here. We were on FaceTime…” my girl pauses for a moment, brows furrowed “…that’s what they called it.”

“You’re right. It is called FaceTime.” When she says things like that, pure confusion on her face, I’m reminded once again of how sheltered she grew up. How her father abused and kept her hidden—forced her to live under a tyranny that protected men and subjugated fae women. Bending toward her, I place my kiss against her temple. “And I should’ve taught you our vow, my female. That promise will hold deeper meaning between us.”

“How so?” she whispers as I lay another small peck on her fragrant skin, dragging my lips down to her cheek. “I don’t?—”

“Because every part of me is now a part of you, love. My heart. My blood. My very soul.” My voice is low, but the gravelly timbre sweeps across her and she moves closer, shivering a bit. “I’m irrevocably tied to you until my last dying breath, Anaya, and eventhen, I’ll still be yours.”

“Mine.” One word, but it holds so much emotion.

My response is quick, and I grasp the back of her neck while turning her face up to mine. Those violet eyes are happy, her lips curling a bit—lips that I now hover against. “In this life and every single one that follows, I will beyours.”

“As I belong to you.”

I don’t care about the other two witnessing our moment—nothing and no one could stop me from fully tasting her lips. I kiss her again. Slowly and reverently, taking and giving while pouring every bit of my feelings for her into every sweep of my tongue or nibble to her bottom lip, then the top one.

I hold her to me and don’t stop devouring that sinful mouth until she’s breathless, and only then do I pull back and lay a tiny peck on the tip of her nose before giving our family my attention once more.

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