Chapter 23
Iwant to ask him what happened, but the words stick in my throat.
Despite his declaration, I know his magic issues are my fault.
If I would’ve stayed away from the book, none of this would be happening.
Omen’s paying for my decisions. I need to tell him, but from the look on his face, the revelation wouldn’t go down well.
He’s already pissed and I’m not about to make it worse.
I don't know how to act around him anymore. Lashing out and arguing with him is justified. Him showing up without a warning after a month isn't something I had on my to-do list today. Plunging the toilet wasn't either.
When he sent me back here, I thought I'd never see him again.
I'd love to say I've been perfectly fine when, in fact, I've been wallowing.
When Omen's cat showed up, I raged. I ended up throwing a strawberry at him, then a carrot when he didn't move.
I missed him both times, then broke down crying. It wasn't my finest moment.
It took me a while to pull my shit together, but once I did, Handsome went wild.
He got into the cupboards and knocked a couple glasses out.
As I was cleaning up the shards of glass, he proceeded to shred my throw pillow.
The stuffing ended up everywhere. I swear I'm going to be finding fluff for weeks.
I didn't even notice the cat got into the bathroom. Little shithead.
And now I'm here, with a demon in my bathroom, and he's plunging my toilet.
And I don't know how to act or feel. And I'm desperately trying not to jump him or cry.
He looks good—better than good. As pissed as I am for him bouncing me back here without a conversation, I'm still captivated by him, which is highly inconvenient. I want to stay mad for a while.
“Are you…” I cross my arms, and a shiver rolls through me as his shadows loop around my throat. It's a light caress, enough to let me know he's there. “Why are you here?”
Water sloshes over the rim of the toilet, yet he doesn't stop plunging. “Providence.”
“Um, we talking fate or fortune?”
He pauses and glances at me. “Neither. Providence.”
“Um, what?”
He huffs and goes back to plunging. “Providence is my sister.”
“You have a sister?” It hits me how much I don't know about him.
He shrugs, making everything worse. “It's not like humans. We don't really have parents or siblings. She just happens to be a mirror of me. It's more…our jobs than anything else. She seems to think she can interfere with my decisions when she thinks I'm fucking up.”
I press my lips together. “What'd you fuck up?”
He shakes his head. When he tugs the plunger from the hole, I wince. Water splashes onto his jeans. I want to take the question back. I almost feel like I'm pulling information from him with a crowbar. He leans back and glares at the toilet.
I step from the shower, making sure to not touch him. I grab the handle and push down once. The water bubbles, then gurgles, and begins to drain.
“Well, that's that, I suppose. Thanks,” I whisper.
“Are you happy?” he blurts out.
I shrug as I flush the toilet again and breathe a sigh of relief. Now I'll have to clean up the mess in here.
“Can you get the cat to leave my stuff alone? I don't know what's gotten into him.” I slip around him to gather towels from the linen closet.
“How exactly would I get your cat to do anything?”
I swing around, brandishing the plunger between us. “My cat? Oh no. You're not foisting that menace off on me.”
“It's not foisting if he belongs to you, Clara.”
“He doesn't belong to me,” I cry.
“If you don't stop swinging that thing around, I'm going to—”
“To what? Disappear? Newsflash, I'm pretty used to that when it comes to you.” I sober and drop my hand to my side. “I'm sorry. That was uncalled for. You don't owe me anything. Thank you for helping me.”
“Don't do that,” he whispers. “You have every right to be upset with me. I didn't give you any warning before I sent you back. I thought it would be easier that way.”
“Was it? For you, I mean. Was it easier that way?”
“No, it wasn't.”
“Probably didn’t help that your magic wasn’t working. Seems to be fine now,” I murmur, then sigh. “I know you said it was because of you, but I think it was the book. Or rather, me using the book.”
“Worth it,” he breathes. At least, that’s what I think he said. Omen grips the back of his neck and sighs. A scowl takes over his face, and he stalks past me. Irritation overrides my guilt, and I grit my teeth.
“You know, it's pretty annoying when we're in the middle of a conversation and you just take off.
Which is what I was saying before. Seems like I shouldn't have to explain that to you.” I shuffle back to the bathroom and toss the plunger inside the shower.
I'll deal with it later, once he's left and I need a distraction from the grief.
Omen's hand wraps around my arm and tugs me toward the front door. “We're not done talking, but I have to deal with Dimitri. Also, you're the one who summoned me.”
“To open a jar of spaghetti sauce,” I cry as I stumble down the stairs. He snatches me around the waist and lifts me clean off my feet.
“I mean today. I was outside because of Providence, but I wasn't going to bother you.”
I sputter, not sure how to respond, especially with the distraction. His heat seeps into me, and I don't know what to do with my hands. Serenity steals over me, settling in my bones and lodging into my heart—my soul. A missing piece clicks into place, but I shy away from it.
“So you only came because of another demon? You're not exactly helping your cause here, Omen.”
His lips brush the shell of my ear and I shiver. “Bold of you to assume I have a cause, little witch.”
“Omen, why are you manhandling a witch?” a deep feminine voice calls out, and my head snaps up.
Omen sets me on my feet, yet keeps his arm around my waist. “Providence, this is Clara. And I wasn't manhandling her. In fact, I was saving her from herself, which is entirely necessary.”
“I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself, thank you very much,” I snap.
“Sure you are, little witch.”
Providence scans me up and down. She towers over me like Omen and Dimitri. There isn't really a resemblance between Omen and her. Her black skin shimmers as if infused with glitter. Her eyes are completely silver, with a pinprick of gold in the center. Mesmerizing is the only way to describe her.
Providence tilts her head and narrows her eyes. It's highly disconcerting. “A witchy demon, I see.”
“I'm sorry, I'm not a demon.”
“No, but when you're soulbound to a demon, you take on some of their magic, hence, a witchy demon.” She says it so matter-of-factly, as if it's common knowledge.
Omen tightens his hold on me. “Time to go, Providence.”
She smirks. “So much for leaving things to chance, hmm?”
Dimitri grabs her wrist and they vanish.
I didn't even notice him standing behind her I was so focused on Omen's sister.
Her cryptic message doesn't mean anything to me.
I have no idea what soulbound is or why it pertains to me.
From the look on Omen's face, though, he does.
Which means he's been keeping a lot more to himself than I thought.
“Want to explain all that?” I murmur.
He sighs heavily. “Let's go inside. Then you can banish me properly afterward.”
He trudges back to the house as I trail behind him. Every time I think we're making some type of progress, he pulls away, or a cat jumps into the mix, or a demon drops a random bombshell, or I get scared.
I'm sick of being scared. I'm sick of living my life afraid of someone else's reaction. I'm sick of pretending I don't deserve more.
My feet stutter to a stop. No more living halfway. I refuse to feel guilty about my feelings.
“No.”
Omen freezes, then slowly spins around. “No?”
I tip my chin up. “No. We're having this out right here, right now. No going inside. No banishing or vanishing until we've had a proper conversation. Oh, and if someone else shows up, I'm kicking them in the shins.”
His eyebrows rise with each word I say. “Shins? Worried you won't be able to reach their knees?”
“Listen here, bucko. Just because you're demons and I can't get my foot that high doesn't mean you have to point it out.”
He tilts his head, eyes narrowing, and I finally see the resemblance to his sister. “Don't love that you called me bucko.”
“Well, I don't love that you're keeping shit from me. What's soulbound?”
His throat bobs and he glances away. “Souls have holes in them. Not literally, obviously. They're like…”
“Puzzle pieces?”
“Yes. On their own, they function just fine. They're still a piece, but it doesn't show the entire picture. When souls find the pieces that fit their own, they become whole. They merge seamlessly, creating something new.”
“Their magic flows from one to the other,” I whisper.
He finally meets my gaze. “If one has magic, yes. I believe humans call it soulmates.”
“Humans are more loosey-goosey about it. At least, some of them are.”
“Some demons don't believe in soulbounds. There's a skeptic in every group. Keeps us from falling for fools, I suppose.”
“And we're—I mean, that's us? Is that why you came when I summoned a demon?”
He shakes his head. “You drew my sigil. Was there some divine force involved? I don't know. They're meddlesome, but also flighty. Might have been that damned book of yours. We could have gone our entire existence without meeting. And we would have been fine.”
“Fine, but not content. Fine, but not happy. Not truly.”
“It doesn't mean we have to…I didn't want you to find out,” he snarls, frustration sending his shadows whirling. Flames burst from his fingertips and lick up his arms.
“So you were never going to say anything.
You came here for months, helped me when you didn't need to, you…you fucked me. You did all of that without telling me we were soulmates—soulbound—and you had no intention of ever saying anything. You were going to disappear and leave me to be incomplete. Do I have that right?”
“I wanted you to choose me,” he explodes. “I didn't want to influence you, thinking you were stuck with me. Besides, none of that erases the issue of you being a witch. I can't stay on this plane without losing everything in Hell, including my magic.”
I nod, chewing on the inside of my cheek. It's a nervous habit I haven't done in years. While I don't agree with his reasonings, I can understand them. I also don't have a counterargument. Yet. With the fire blazing over his skin, I have a little time to figure it out.
“You wanted me to choose you, but didn't give me all the information to make an informed decision.
Which is moot anyways, because if you wouldn't have sent me back, you would have known I was going to ask if I could stay in Hell.” It takes him a few seconds to process what I've said.
“You let fear control you. What do you want, Omen?”
His flames wink out, his shadows dissipating until only he remains. Reddish skin glowing in the sunlight. A soft glimmer flickering in his eyes. Dark hair ruffling in the soft breeze. He's infuriating and comforting. He drives me up a wall, yet all I want is him to say he wants me.
“I want you to be happy. Blissfully, deliriously happy. I want you to thrive, no matter where you are. I want you to see your worth—to know that you're enough. I want to know every single version of you. That's what I want.”
Tears fill my eyes and I swipe them away as soon as they escape. “Is there a way to put my house in Hell?”
He rocks back on his heels. “I could probably pull some strings.”
“You know”—I step closer to him—”I think you deserve happiness, too.” I close the gap between us, but he doesn't move to touch me.
“Don't tell anyone, but you make me happy.”
“Then I suppose we should try doing this whole happy thing together, shouldn't we?”
“I suppose we should.”
His hands slide into my hair and his lips brush mine. I grip his shoulders and press my body closer. He deepens the kiss and I lose myself in him. I don't know what the future brings and it's terrifying. Like taking a leap off a cliff in the dark.
I pull back and he growls. “Will my plants die?”
He chuckles. “They'll be fine. And if they're not, we'll figure it out together.”
“Together.”