Page 39 of Pain

Swallowing, I took her offered hand in mine and laced our fingers together, placing our clasped hands on the table. “I’ll let you know. I haven’t decided yet. We need to figure out your training and start planning our trap first. If we have time … we’ll see.” I brought the back of her hand to my mouth and kissed it. “Thank you though.”

She held my gaze for a long time, the heat and intensity of her green stare making my belly pool with heat and need. My cock surged to life in my cargo pants, and I could have very easily swept the table clean of our food, thrown her down, and ravished her in all the ways I wanted to. Audience or not.

One corner of her perfect mouth tipped up a little into a hint of a smirk, but that just made my cock even harder. My chest heaved. So did hers. My gaze fell to her mouth for just a moment, and I ached to taste it.

Fuck it.

My spoon clattered into the bowl, and I let go of her hand, taking both sides of her face with my hands. Her pulse beat wildly in her neck against my fingers as I held her there, continuing to stare into her beautiful eyes and straight into her soul.

A throat cleared from one of the dumbasses across the table. I didn’t fucking care.

She was my mate too.

“I love you,” I said, emotion filling my throat until it was tight and painful. “So fucking much.” Then I slowly moved in, taking her mouth with mine, wedging her lips apart and gently, leisurely exploring. Savoring. Relishing.

She kissed me back, her little hands making fists in the front of my shirt as she opened her mouth wider, tangling her tongue with mine.

The kiss was slow and perfect, and exactly what I needed to kick the nasty thoughts of my parents out of my brain for the day. We were in Hell for Omaera. To help her learn how to control her powers and figure out how to defeat Lerris. I needed to focus on her.

A throat cleared again, this time a little more forcefully, and my queen whimpered into my mouth before releasing her grip on my shirt and gradually pulling away, blinking her eyes open.

I let go of her face, winked, and turned back to my breakfast, leaving her sitting there, agape, staring at me.

It was impossible not to smirk at this point. The vampire and bear were pissed, which was just a little cherry on top of my cupcake. You snooze, you lose, Fangs and Fluffy.

“We start training in ten minutes,” came Kenvin’s voice from the doorway to the kitchen. “All of you.”

Omaera turned to face him, then nodded. “Okay. Be right there.” She spun back around and began to inhale her breakfast. “This is not good,” she said between bites, making a face that said as much. “How can anybody live in Hell when this is the kind of food they have?”

“I’m sure they’ve uncovered ways to make it taste a bit better,” I said, diving back into my own breakfast. “Otherwise, yeah. I’d be throwing myself throughthe nearest portal and grabbing a burrito from Chipotle immediately. Even if it gave me the shits for three days afterward, it’d at least taste like heaven going in.”

Snorting in amusement, Omaera rolled her eyes and shook her head. “You’re disgusting.”

“You fucking love it.”

She didn’t argue with me, which I just took as a triumph.

We finished our breakfast—reluctantly—then cleaned our dirty dishes, since Hell had no dishwashers, obviously. Then we went on the hunt for Kenvin Jol.

Zandren seemed exhausted, which stuck a little in my craw since I knew what he was up to all night, and Drak seemed broodier than normal. At least he wasn’t having to take the pills anymore that kept him from going insane around Omaera while she bled. I had no problem with her bleeding once a month, but it was going to be tedious for sure, keeping Drak in line and making sure that bat took his meds.

We found Kenvin in what could only be described as a martial arts dojo-style room complete with shoji doors, just off the living room. It had all kinds of combat training equipment. Various swords, blades, daggers, and more lined one wall; while bows and arrows of all sizes and shapes hung against another wall. There were no guns—which didn’t come as a surprise—we didn’t die from gunshots, so why bother?

“Did you bring Moloch’s Sacrifice?” Kenvin asked from where he sat cross-legged on a pillow in the center of the room.

“I did,” Omaera said, holding it up like it was no more than a spatula and not a heavy-ass blade forged in the fires of Hell.

Kenvin nodded. “Take a seat—all of you.”

We did as we were told. Drak sat on one side of Omaera while I sat on the other. The bear seemed a little put out that he wasn’t directly next to her, but I didn’t give a shit.

“I want everyone to close their eyes,” Kenvin said. “Clear your mind.”

“Are we meditating?” I asked.

“Silence,” Kenvin said, though not unkindly.

“Close your eyes and clear your mind. I will know if you haven’t. Focus on your breathing. Make the exhale audible, constricting your throat, like you’re fogging up a mirror. I want to hear your exhales. Focus on the exhales.”

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