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.”
He slides his hands to my waist, then up my sides before settling on my cheeks. My brain short circuits as the yearning from minutes ago hits me. He pushes up, still on his knees, and I exhale sharply. Even with me on the bed, he's much taller than me. My mind races, desperately trying to convince myself the height won't be a problem if I'm lying down. Which is ridiculous since I don't know if we'll ever get there.
He leans in, his breath brushing my ear and my stomach flips. “The only way this works is if you submit to me, little witch. The magic flowing through your veins will rise up to protect you if you're not absolutely certain you want this.”
I close my eyes, hiding in the comfort of the dark. “I wanted this months ago.”
“When?” he whispers, then presses his lips to the sensitive spot behind my ear. “When I was gone?”
He feathers kisses down my neck, making it hard to remember the question. I jolt and my eyes fly open when something touches my waist. Wispy shadows make their way to my inner thighs, then back to my knees. A whimper leaves me when he pushes them apart and he settles between my legs.
“Answer the question, Clara,” he murmurs, then sinks his teeth into the soft skin.
“Batteries,” I gasp, tipping my head back.
Omen chuckles, though I doubt he understands. It feels like a lifetime ago he changed the batteries in my smoke detector. He probably doesn't remember. I do. I remember everything about him. From the first time he swirled into a poorly drawn summoning circle to now as he nibbles on my earlobe. I stored it all away in the deepest parts of me, hoping for the day he'd see me as something more than just another witch.
His hands slide to my shoulders while his shadows sneak under my shirt. I haven't given much thought to how they work. His shadows come and go, seemingly on a whim. He only touched on the basics when we talked. Now, they feel like an extra set of hands working my body into a frenzy. I can't quite keep up with the sensations. I'm being pulled in so many different directions, never quite able to focus on all the things he's doing to my body.
“What do you want, Clara?” he murmurs, both his hands and shadows pausing in their quest to map my skin.
“You,” I breathe, tipping my head back. “All of you.”
