Page 40 of Shadowlands Omega

I cock my head and, for want of something to do with my hands other than grab her, continue to rub soap over my body, washing the Rider’s blood off of me. I wonder absently if he’s still breathing. He was alive when I left him.

“I will give you that, when you commanded me in the woods, you unlocked a secret side of me I have never met before. I like that side of me. I like who I am when I think of you. And I like who I am even more in your presence.”

I smile sadly. “I have lived a long time as the judge, jury and executioner of a justice I have created, that I know. But…” I do not know how to phrase what I mean to say next. That I’ve been blinded by my desire for her… No, no, quite the opposite. That my blinders have been removed. I cannot approach every problem the same way anymore. I must force myself to think from the perspective of others. To see what they see. To see the shadows in between what is right and what is wrong. “But there is more for me to consider now. Things I have not seen that you place before me in the light. I’m starting to realize that the Shadow Lord may be even more effective by sharing another perspective — the perspective of one even more powerful.”

“It’s pheromones,” she chokes, and I feel like a bastard forcing her to talk to me when her voice is so ragged. I can see the darker purple marks of meaty fingers against her brown skin. I wish there was a way to throttle her into giving up the names of everyone who touched her in anger today, and yet, even if I could, I suspect I’d lose part of her if I went after them like I did the Rider.

She stared too long at the blood on my clothes and hair earlier and, remembering that, I quickly duck under the water, wanting to be sure it’s not spattering my face. I don’t like when she looks at me like I’m a murderer or a Lord or a savage. I want her to look at me like she did in the woods, in the moment right before everything changed and our bodies came together.

Like I’m a male named Yaron. A male sent to do her bidding and nothing more.

“Then how do you explain the other Omegas who have come through the Shadowlands? How do you explain the days — weeks — I spent with a powerful unmated Omega on the North Island, the Fallen Beast Omega? The witch of the woods? I was close to her. I could scent a heat not long passed on her skin and yet…nothing. There was not a hint of attraction between us.”

“But…” She sounds frustrated. She’s persistent, this Omega, but she must know that the battle is already lost. She is not a warrior. She only has a warrior’s heart. “But you left…”

“Left?”

“You never tried to talk to me after you brought me to your chambers, only checking on me or doing strange tours of your chambers that put me on edge… You never tried to actually say anything to me.”

Did she want me to? I don’t dare ask her that. Instead, I clear my throat of the desire, unbidden, rising within it. “Yes. Because I did not trust myself around you and at the time, I knew better than to test the limits of my self-control.”

She waits for me to say more. I don’t. I force her to ask, “And now?”

“And now I have made my decision.”

“What decision?” she says, voice hollow and starved.

“I will not deny myself any longer. Only you can do that.”

Her lower lip wobbles and her hands smooth over the curve of her head. She is a beautiful female, hair or not. Her features are elegantly arrayed. Overlarge eyes, a lower lip full to bursting, a cupid’s bow that’s pronounced and makes her mouth look drawn on by the hands of an artist, high cheek bones, a soft, pronounced jawline, ears small and delicate.

“How have you managed to remain unmated to now?” I ask, out of the blue.

She fiddles with more soap. She doesn’t need it. We’ve been in the bath long enough. “Lack of interest.”

“Lack of interest on your part or theirs?”

“Both.”

I find that hard to believe but don’t say as much. There must be more to it than that. “Your sisters also are unmated?”

She nods.

I release the valve at the bottom of the basin and she starts when water begins to slowly drain away. I step out of the tub and make no effort to conceal my erection. I take particular pleasure in watching her watch it, though it’s clear she tries not to.

I return to her with a towel as I ponder the dynamic of her family. I have a question to ask her, but struggle to phrase it in a way that doesn’t sound judgmental. She reaches for the towel, but I hold it away from her. She relents and steps out of the bath and into my arms because it’s what I want and because no, she is no warrior. A protector, yes, but she lacks all the bloodlust that I have in spades and plan to use to win her heart.

“Do you think that your sisters are unmated because of your family?”

She tilts her head to the side and blinks at me slowly. She’s tired. Beyond tired. But I don’t want her to sleep. I want her here, present, with me. “You mean, my parents? They’ve been happily married for thirty years. They don’t keep us from getting married.”

I wrap the towel around her and dry her weary body gently. “I don’t imagine they do. Not outwardly. But they have fostered a closeness within your family that I imagine may be difficult to replicate. Perhaps, the thought of losing that is what keeps…”

Kiandah turns within my arms, showing me her front. She has breasts perfectly proportional to her frame, a flat stomach with a softness beneath her belly button that I long to sink my teeth into. Her hips and thighs are thicker than they appear when she’s clothed and I love that about her, too. She has thickening curls that cover her sex and that my cock strains towards. But the bruises…I’m gentle as I work the towel over them, careful not to hurt her. My people and I have done enough of that, already.

And then something in her tone snaps. She speaks quickly and stiffly, “My Lord, it doesn’t have anything to do with family — why we’re not married. We’re not married because we’re poor. Do you know how hard it is for women in the Shadowlands? Owenna hates cooking. She’s tried to get jobs in the castle as a chambermaid and been rejected. Life might be okay for Betas in the Shadowlands but it’s hard to…tomovewhen you’re a woman here. Meanwhile, Cyprus is offered jobs and daughters when we set foot outside of our home.” She chuckles lightly, her eyes glazing as if recalling a particular memory. Meanwhile, I stand there, stunned.

“No one wants to marry a poor woman with no dowry from a family of cooks. Maybe, if we were exceptional beauties, it would be different. But now, we’re killers so it doesn’t matter at all.” She coughs and lifts her arms over the edge of the towel, wrapping it around herself and taking herself away from me. She tilts her chin up, peering up at me as if challenging me.

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