Page 60 of Shadowlands Omega

I’m confused and not able to think clearly with whatever Okayo gave me running through my system. Piecing her words together, it almost sounds like she’s suggesting that what she’s doing with her fingers is working…

“It’s working, my Lord,” Okayo says breathlessly. “It’s incredible.”

“It’s working?” I ask.

“Yes. It seems to be,” Kiandah mutters. “But shh. It takes concentration.”

“Do you even know what you’re doing? Or how you’re doing it?” Okayo fires.

Kiandah doesn’t sound as incensed by the question as she should. “Err…”

“Of course she does. My Omega is a creature of many talents.” I close my eyes and settle against her, hoping she’ll keep on touching me like she is.

“Am I hurting you, my Lord?”

“Not at all. The sensation is heavenly.”

Okayo is firing off questions feverishly now. “What does it feel like?”

“Like fucking a cloud.”

Kiandah barks out a laugh, which she follows up immediately with curses. “Gods of the shadows, Lord Okayo, what did you give him?”

“That’s uhh…not important.”

“Okayo…” I grumble, though I meant to sound more menacing than that.

The two chat over the healing properties my Omega wields with her fingertips while I loiter on the boundary line between drowsiness and ravenous contentment. Whatever she does takes forever and I’m fine with that. I hope it will never end. I haven’t felt so at ease in a long time. I don’t doubt that every ounce of tension has fled my body. That I didn’t get up and immediately flay Dorsten for having had the privilege of making her laugh should have been my first indication that I am completely and utterly stoned.

I must drift off to sleep because when I wake, it’s dark, the room is quiet and Kiandah is with me in bed. The sheets are fresh and I feel oddly clean, lying beneath them as I am. I can feel the bandages pull on my back as I reach for her, wrapping my hand around her leg above the knee.

She’s staring at my face wearing a small, cryptic smile and I can’t figure out if she killed me, and momentarily I am concerned that I’ve died and entered a blissful afterlife. It occurs to me on the next instant that I’m also okay with that. If this is the afterlife and Kiandah is here, there is nothing else for me to do except enjoy it.

Suddenly, she smiles bright. She has a slight gap between her front teeth. I have never noticed any other woman with this feature and I have never adored a feature more in a woman than I do this one, right now. “What are you thinking, Yaron? You have the strangest look on your face.”

“I’m not certain I’m not dreaming.” Or dead.

Kiandah laughs and it ricochets through my skull. It scars everything it grazes, changing the chemistry of my makeup irrevocably. “Did Okayo really give you so many drugs? You’re looking like a fat, sleepy housecat.”

“How about a lounging lion, satisfied after a kill?” I reach for her and she doesn’t stop me from wrapping a heavy arm around her waist and pulling it flush to mine. I’m immediately annoyed by the tunic she’s wearing and start picking at the dull black buttons.

“You do know that female lions do all the hunting for the pride, don’t you?” she says, but she doesn’t stop my fondling.

“Perhaps I’m a rabid lion, then.”

“That I could believe. Yaron, what are you doing with my shirt?”

“I want it,” I growl irritably, incapable of getting the buttons free with my claws. Why do I have claws again? My head is still lost in the fog.

“You want my shirt? Well, it is your shirt, so I suppose…”

“I don’t want your shirt,” I growl, irritated with my progress. Regaining control of my hands doesn’t improve my work with the buttons. Finally, I just tear the whole thing apart. “I want it off.”

“Yaron,” she says on a laugh, trying to cover her breasts with her hands. I can’t see them as well as I’d like without my beast’s eyes and I’m not in control enough to access a single aspect of him without the rest. Curse Okayo… “You’re not supposed to roll onto your back,” she chastises when I lean over to do just that. “You’re not well enough to have sex,” she adds, which is a pity, because I’d been about to drag her body over mine and beg her to ride me to the sunrise.

I groan out my concession, sighing heavily as I sag back into the mattress.

Kiandah laughs lightly, but she doesn’t move to retrieve her tattered shirt or any other. She just sits there, torturing me with the sight of her perfect breasts hanging heavy on her chest, tipped in hard nipples that, in this light, look like black diamonds.

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