Page 111 of Shadowlands Omega

Her lips part in question.

“You may own me, body and soul, but I own you, too. That pussy is mine and you have no fucking right to touch it unless within my presence. Understood?”

But Kiandah. Oh dear, sweet fucking Kiandah. She is constantly surprising me, because she says, voice barely above a whisper, “No, Yaron. I think I’m going to need aharderlesson.”

Fuck it. Fuck everything. Fuck the red moon.

I reach down to throw her skirts up when the most horrible sound imaginable rings in my ears. “Ancestors help me! What the fuck are the two of you doing?” Cyprus’s disorderly and disobedient shout should get him cast into the dungeons, but that would displease my Omega, and I can’t suffer through another long wait.

“Go away, Cyprus,” Kiandah shouts.

“You tricked me,” he shouts from the doorway to the throne room. I look up and see him standing there holding a messy bundle of scrolls in one hand, covering his eyes with his other. If I weren’t so sexually frustrated and needy, I’d have found his stance and his words comical. I’d also have been more…touched? Impressed? — that he was willing to say them in front of me. Almost like we’re already family.

“You sent me off on this wild goose chase to find these stupid scrolls all so you could do exactly what you told me you wouldn’t do and track down Lord Yaron even though Okayo said…”

But Kiandah has stopped listening and jerks upright, practically vaulting off of the top of the table. She shoves me away from her.

“But…” I start, sounding like a whiny child.

Waving me away, she beelines it to her brother. She immediately rips the scrolls from his hands. “You actuallyfoundthem?” Her voice is so high-pitched, it’s nearing a decibel only beasts can understand. It’s a tone I’ve never heard from her before and my curiosity is swiftly and successfully piqued.

“You didn’t even expect me to find them?” He makes a choking sound that again, might have caused me to laugh, if I weren’t simultaneously annoyed and intrigued. I take a step forward that causes Kiandah to spin around. She quickly slips the scrolls behind her back, as if expecting me to think they’ve suddenly disappeared — or that her body will present an actual barrier against my getting to them.

“Let me see those scrolls, my love,” I coo.

Her pupils dilate slightly, then she shakes her head. “What scrolls, my Lord?” She gives me a little curtsey that makes me want to put her in those stocks we were talking about and finish tanning her hide.

“Kiandah,” I say in warning.

“It’s nothing. Some old doodles. Don’t concern yourself with them, Yaron.” And I’ve abruptly become Yaron again. Hmm… “I’ll put them someplace safe and return right away so we can finish what we started.” Panicked, she whirls around on the ball of her foot and pushes Cyprus towards the door. Before leaving, she turns to me and says, “Stay right here. I promise, I’ll be right back.” She departs in a rush, slamming the door shut, but she made a mistake. She may have told me to stay, but she didn’t command me to.

I wait a moment before leaving after her. Whatever papers litter my desk can wait. I follow her, at a distance of course, down the hallway. I notice Alphas out and about coming to a stop or staring in her direction as they pass. I growl or snap my jaws in their direction as a warning, though I already know none would be so stupid as to attempt to address their Lady while she’s weeping a slick that I caused.

My clothes are in disarray and my cloak hangs askew off of my shoulders. I realize as I round the corner and the stairs leading up to our private chambers come into view that my staff is staring at me just as much as they are staring at her, regardless if they are Alpha or Beta.

Some of them giggle as I pass and it occurs to me that they seem…happy. We were just set upon by zombies and yet, they’re smiling like they’re pleased. Perhaps, because my Omega and I saved them. My Omega, mostly. I am not sure, but I make a note to ask Kiandah if she has any theories later — after I’ve seen those scrolls.

I open the door to my chambers and see Kiandah attempting to stuff them behind the books in a bookcase in the back of the room while Cyprus watches her.

She squeaks when she looks up and sees me. “What are you doing here? I told you to wait.”

The insolence. The punishment she’s owed. The beginnings of a purr strike up deep within my chest. I force myself to calm and remain calm when I tell her, “My cloak is wrinkled. It needs replacing.”

“Along with the rest of your clothes, too, my Lord?” Cyprus grunts.

I finally do break and laugh then. “You truly are gluttonous for punishment, brother.”

He seems to stall over the term of affection, but he gives me a dry look and smiles as he finally says, “Lucky for me the dungeons are all full.”

I snort and turn to my cloak rack, remove the one I’m wearing, hang it back up and then begin listlessly pawing through the others. He’s right, of course. The dungeons are overcrowded with individuals Owenna identified as having worked with Trash City and the Fates to either kill, embalm or transport the dead Alpha bodies.

Those responsible for the deaths directly number only six and exist in the dungeons’ lowest rung where the rest of the world no longer exists for them. The rest — another thirty civilians — occupy the next two levels, including the daylight cell where the Ubutu family once hung. Where Kiandah first attacked — not to kill, never that — but to save her family from me. I can still remember the suddenness of the feeling of her fire washing over me.

Owenna identified more than that, forty-eight to be exact — the female was organized and, even before donning a black cloak that none will ever see, she kept lists, amassing her power through information that she carefully documented.

However, twelve of those identified changed sides and were spotted fighting the undead at the keep. They were punished — sent to work rebuilding the docks — but spared from the dungeons as a recompense for their wrongs and an acknowledgement of their renewed loyalty.

I turn back to my closet while Cyprus turns back to his sister. He drops his tone to a whisper. “Are those the…”

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