Chapter 17
“Oh no. You're not going to distract me by—oh.” A moan slips out and my eyes flutter shut.
I should push him for an answer, but with what his tongue is doing, I can't really be bothered.
Pleasure has rendered me useless for conversation.
At some point, we'll need to talk about the future.
Not now. That'd be weird. Except half my brain is focused on what the book showed him and the other is zeroed in on his long fingers slowly pushing into me.
“So wet for me,” he says huskily. “Were you this wet when you were playing with yourself? Were you imagining my fingers instead of your own?”
I whimper, which isn't really an answer.
If he's wanting actual words, he's going to have to stop.
If he stops, my heel will end up in his throat.
I still haven't fully decided whether or not I want him to stay.
The fact he finally made a move doesn't quite make up for him not coming back for six months.
After that long, I'd thought I'd banish his ass if he came back. Instead, I let him in with open arms. If he sticks around, we're going to need to talk.
Omen's lips brush mine, and he whispers, “Distracted?”
My eyes snap open and I wince. “Sorry.”
His thumb presses into my clit, making me gasp. “Stop apologizing. Get out of your head.”
I nod and he hums, holding my gaze as he dips between my legs once more.
I focus on his fingers, his tongue, his mouth.
When his horns brush my thighs, I press my lips together.
They flash in and out of existence as if his magic is running rampant.
He tried to explain how it works, but most of it went over my head.
His wings flutter like there's a breeze in the middle of my kitchen.
The tips brush over my skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
He drives his fingers into me harder, faster, while his tongue swirls around my clit. My pleasure builds and my stomach tightens in anticipation. I lose myself in the feelings overriding my senses.
“Don’t stop,” I chant over and over under my breath as I teeter on the edge of ecstasy. He hums and my legs start to shake.
Just when I'm about to come, he vanishes. He doesn't pull away or slow down. He completely disappears, my orgasm along with him. I let out a frustrated cry and slam my palms on the counter. Glancing down, I'm not surprised to find only my dining room staring back at me.
“Omen,” I yell. “I swear if you don't come back and finish what you started…”
Silence greets me. The kind of quiet one feels in their soul.
It seeps into me and a numbness spreads through my body.
I struggle to breathe and an ache blooms in my chest. It cements me to the hard surface beneath me, keeping me exactly where it wants me.
Who it is, I don't know and I'm not sure I want to.
I snatch at my thoughts, yet they slip away.
I linger in the stillness, lying on my cold island, and wondering how the hell I got myself into this mess.
All I wanted was my jar opened. I wasn't looking for a handyman or a friend or a lover.
For six months, I've been trying to convince myself his leaving was for the best. We were getting too close. Lines were being blurred.
I was using him as a distraction to cover up my feelings about my friends.
Once I figured it out, I reached out to them.
My olive branch didn't do much at repairing anything, but I didn't feel bad about the situation anymore.
We're at different points in our lives and that's okay.
At least, that's what I've been telling myself.
I'd finally gotten to a place where I was ready to move on.
I've mourned the loss of their companionship and found other things to occupy my time.
Finally, I was starting to feel like myself. I filled my time with renovations, work, and hobbies. Cooking, crocheting, drawing, and gardening. They've all helped in some way, but they didn't fill the hole in me.
The longer Omen was away, the tighter the thread within me pulled. It anchored him in my mind, not fully allowing me to let him go. It's why I never erased the summoning circle. It's why I lacquered over the chalk, etching it into the wood.
“What good is a summoning circle if the damn demon doesn't show up when you call him?” I huff and slip off the counter. “Omen!”
I hold my breath as I scan the space. Nothing moves.
No one appears. I exhale heavily and wait for a whole minute.
It doesn't make a difference. What if something happened?
What if he's in trouble? I wouldn't imagine he'd leave voluntarily, especially when he was seconds away from making me come.
Based on last night, he was hyperfocused on sending me into oblivion.
I press my lips together and grimace. “Dimitri?”
Calling Omen's friend might not be the best idea, but he'd be the best demon to ask whether or not Omen is in trouble.
The longer I wait, the more my anxiety takes hold of me.
I jolt and knock my back into the counter when a loud thump ricochets around me.
I stumble to the book lying innocently next to the oven.
“Why the hell would I need the summoning circle? I already have one.” I flip the book closed and sigh before turning away. Papers shuffle behind me and I sigh.
I stare at the text, trying to decipher what I'm missing. I jump backward with a squeak when the pages flip. When it settles, I lean closer.
“You've got to be fucking kidding me. Like I'd travel to Hell just to go after my…demon. Who would do that?”
I scoop up the book and read it again. My feet move before I've fully decided to follow the directions.
I'd be a fool of a witch to do this, especially since I have no idea where Omen is.
It's not like I'd just drop in front of him.
I'd probably end up wandering around pits of fire.
Then I'd be stuck in another dimension and no one would know where I was. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.
Once I step into my spell room, a cold draft hits me, and I shiver. I drop the book and scowl at the swirly script. Still, I end up gathering the black candles and hemlock. Because of course the spell calls for hemlock. I'm surprised it doesn't require belladonna.
Skimming the text again, I let out a breathless laugh. “Of course I need belladonna to get back. Like hell I'm drinking any of this shit.”
I dump my goods on the ground and start setting up the candles. I'm a lot more careful this time around. Once I toss the hemlock in the center, I send a silent plea to my mother to guide me.
Flame flicks from the match and I hold my breath as I light each one.
I could use my own magic, but I’m terrified of messing this up.
When I glance back at the book, I swallow hard.
Instead of the creamy pages, they've turned black.
The calligraphy no longer flows seamlessly from one word to the next.
Now it's a harsh scrawl laid out in red.
“Fucking Latin,” I growl, running my finger along the words. “Why can't you just translate yourself for fuck's sake?”
I yelp and yank my hand away when the text swims on the page and translates into English.
I should have given this thing to Omen. He could have thrown it into one of those fiery pits down there.
It probably would show up again since it's cursed.
Except I wouldn't know Omen if I hadn’t opened the thing.
“If you fuck me over, I'll destroy you,” I whisper as I glare at the dark pages. Then I realize I'm threatening a book. I'm just stalling at this point.
I stumble through the first few sentences, then clear my throat and start again.
I gather the book to my chest and stare at the circle flickering in the candlelight.
Nothing moves, though there's an energy in the air.
Waiting isn't easy. All I want to do is jump into the middle and deal with the consequences.
Or run as far away as possible. Except I can't leave Omen in trouble.
“Except he probably isn't in trouble. Shit,” I mumble.
Nothing good can come from a trip to Hell. What a ridiculous notion. I blame the lack of an orgasm for losing my head. If I would have just thought things through, I wouldn't be in here with candles and hemlock.
I cling to the book as I blow out the candles one by one. I leave the plant where it is, making a note to clean it up later. My chest tightens as I turn toward the door, then immediately spin back. Omen's cat meows from the center of the circle.
“Seriously, Handsome? Get out of there.”
He tilts his head, which freaks me out every time.
It's like he's mimicking human behaviors—particularly Omen's.
He's clearly not a cat from this realm. He meows again, then picks up his front paw and licks at his fur.
For such an ugly cat with his smashed face, he's pretty adorable.
I still can't get over how tiny he is, though it's hard to tell with all the fluff.
“Handsome,” I snap, and he blinks lazily at me, then continues his bath. “Let's go get a treat.”
I tuck the book under my arm and edge closer to the circle.
Who knows what would happen if I stepped inside.
I crouch and hold out my hand as if I'll be able to coax him to me.
He twitches and I swear flames flicker in his eyes.
A millisecond later and they're gone, replaced by the regular green glow.
He glances at his feet, then ducks his head to the hemlock. The candles flare to life and I gasp.
“No, Handsome.” I tumble into the summoning circle. The book slams to the ground, and the cat ends up in my arms.
There's a tug in my gut and the room disappears.