Chapter 15
This is it. The moment he walks away again. Or vanishes without an explanation. Or his cat will show up. Or Dimitri.
Something always gets in the way of whatever we're hurtling toward.
The past six months were hell, no pun intended.
I went through all the stages and came out the other side…
not the best version of myself, but better.
I was handling things. Then he shows up again and all the walls I built around myself crumbled.
He didn't even have to do anything other than appear.
As much as I wanted to see him, I never said his name. I knew the moment I did, I'd be pissed at myself. Once someone leaves, I let them stay gone. Dragging them back into my life doesn't do anything other than hurt both of us. Omen doesn't want to be here.
Except he has that look in his eyes. The same one when he hauled my ass out from behind the washer and when he crawled into bed with me that last night.
I always explained it away. I don't think I can anymore.
And I don't want to. Being alone isn't fun and I don't want to do it anymore.
So, I'll just let him do whatever he wants.
If he walks away, I'll just pick up the pieces of my shattered heart once more.
My chest seizes at the thought. Did he break my heart?
Have I fallen for him? We've barely spent any time together, which isn't entirely accurate, I suppose.
They feel like stolen moments and I'm the thief who took them.
I hoarded them, convincing myself it was all I'd have to sustain me through the years.
If he leaves again, I doubt he'll remember me.
These times will fade for him, and I'll be nothing but a wisp of remembrance from a lifetime ago.
He has an endless existence to forget people—including me.
“Going to tell me what's going on in that pretty little head of yours?” he murmurs, a smirk playing on his lips.
“Well, that was condescending,” I mutter as I glance away. He hums and his fingers brush my hair behind my ear. I beat back a shudder, not willing to give in just yet. Not completely, though my resolve is crumbling pretty damn quickly.
“Yet my calling you little witch isn't? Explain that one.”
I press my lips together. There isn't any difference, but I'm not about to admit it.
He thinks he's so damn—his fingers grip my chin and he forces me to look at him.
A smile slowly splits his lips and my heartbeat tap-dances out a lively rhythm in my chest. I swear I can hear music flitting through the air.
It's lilting and lulls me into an unexpected semblance of tranquility.
I don't know whether to trust it, but I don't think I care very much.
As long as he keeps looking at me like he is and the melody continues and my heartbeat remains.
As long as I can stay in this bubble of tranquility.
“You're awfully quiet. Time to make a decision, Clara.”
“A decision about what?”
“Whether you're going to get rid of the summoning circle or keep it as is.”
I huff out a breathless laugh. “Six months, Omen. I didn't get rid of it for six months and you're asking me if I'm going to do it now? Right after you showed up again?”
He shrugs and releases my chin before boxing me in again. “Why didn't you wash it away?”
“I couldn't,” I whisper. “At first, I thought you'd come back. Then I was mad at you even though I knew you didn't owe me anything. Despite my…earlier statement. I'm sor—”
“Do not apologize to me again,” he growls, leaning closer.
“Sorry. No, I mean, um, sorry for the sorry. Shit.” I wince as he chuckles.
“Nervous, little witch?”
Without a thought, my tongue flicks out and brushes against his bottom lip.
He groans, the sound rumbling from deep within him.
He seals his mouth to mine, and my mind goes blank.
It's like I'm floating outside my body, gazing down at the scene spread out.
My back against the bricks, him leaning into me, the sun beating down on us, my flushed cheeks and my eyes closed.
I snap back into my body, and butterflies erupt in my belly. My chest tightens and my hands end up clinging to his shoulders. His own hand grasps the back of my neck, and he tugs me closer. He breaks off the kiss and rests his forehead against mine.
“Say something,” he breathes.
“Why'd you stop?”
He grins, then pulls away. I let out a shriek when he tips me over his shoulder. His large hand wraps around my thigh and his long strides eat up the distance to my front door, which he kicks closed behind us. Shadows chase us down the hallway, and I bite my lip to contain my smile.
My breath whooshes from me as he drops me onto the bed.
His wings snap out, the claws on the tips curling, then disappearing.
His shadows blend together, forming tendrils that reach for me.
My heels slip on the sheets as I scramble backward.
He grabs my ankle and drags me toward him.
A giggle bursts from me until he drops to his knees.
His long fingers wrap around my calves, the heat seeping through my leggings.
His dark eyes find mine, twin flames flickering in their depths.
When he leans forward, my breath hitches.
With my knees bent over the edge of the mattress, he's perfectly placed to fit himself between my legs.
My mouth waters and my mind spins off into a thousand different possibilities.
I can't read him, though. I have no idea what he's planning.
His palms slide up to my hips, and he rests his chin on my stomach. “I need you to talk to me.”
“What?” I rasp, struggling to keep my eyes on him while not giving myself a double chin. Thankfully, he tugs me upright and kneels between my legs.
He sighs, the flames winking out in his eyes. “It's been less than an hour for me. For you? It's been six months. Then I waltz back in and we find ourselves here after a few minutes. I don't want you like this.”
Pain lances through my chest and I attempt to keep the hurt from my face. I tuck my chin to my chest and my hair slips over my shoulder. Another rejection wasn't on my to-do list for the day.
In my weak moments, I wondered what I would do if he came back.
The possibilities ranged from cussing him out to jumping his bones and everything in between.
I thought if we got to this point...I don't know.
Maybe I could turn my brain off and not worry about our uncertain future.
Or we'd be so caught up in the moment. I didn't expect him to reject me as soon as we got going.
“Clara?” Omen whispers, tucking his knuckle under my chin and forces my gaze to his. “I need to know you're not making a rash decision.”
I let out a sharp laugh. “This is the most thought-out and yet rash decision I've ever made in my life.”
His brows pull low. “I don't know what that means, which isn't surprising.”
“Because you're a demon?”
“And because you're a witch.” His fingers dig into my thighs and desire ignites within me once more.
“Is that supposed to scare me off? You want me to send you away and paint over the summoning circle? Might make things easier.” I narrow my eyes, watching for his reaction. I don't really want to do any of that. I just want him to pick me.
I've waited for six months for him. Despite what I told him—what I told myself—I never stopped searching for him.
Every room I stepped into. Every morning when I opened my eyes.
Every time the book dropped onto the counter.
Over and over, that damn book would tumble open, revealing spells revolving around demons.
Between summoning circles, binding spells, and truth serums, all involving demons, I was about to bury it in the woods.
It would just find its way back to me, though.
Regardless, the damned thing kept following me around, showing up in the most unlikely places.
I took it as a sign not to get rid of the summoning circle.
I've been waiting for the payment, though.
Magic will come for me one way or another.
I wonder if the cost rose each time I called Omen to this world. Who's paying for my choices?
“Clara,” he growls, and I snap my attention back to him.
“What happened when you left?” I ask. Omen has to be the one paying the price. There's no one else close to me unless the magic would pick one of my friends, but I barely speak to them these days other than a text to check in once every three weeks.
Omen scowls and his wings flicker in and out of existence. “Doesn't matter. It wasn't that long for me.”
“But your magic. Did it freak out? Were you hurt? Did something happen?” My chest tightens as I wait for his answer. No matter what happened to him, it was because of me. I did it to him without a second thought.
Flames flicker in his dark eyes and his skin takes on a dark hue. “What's this about, little witch?”
“I used the book,” I whisper.
The corner of his mouth tips up. “And you think I'm the one who pays? Doubt it. There are very few circumstances where a demon would pay the price for…”
His gaze narrows, then takes on a faraway look. This is about the time he'll keep shit from me. He'll tell me not to worry about it or distract me. Or maybe he'll just poof out of existence again. He seems to do that when things go sideways. I clear my throat and his gaze snaps back to me.
“What circumstances?” I demand.
He shakes his head. “Mostly when there's an agreement in place. Times of war and all that.”