Page 19 of King of Omen

We exchanged a short conversation before I drifted towards the study.

I was drawn to a photo album sitting atop a stack of papers.

Flipping through the pages, memories flooded back—a younger version of Bianca beaming at me from faded photographs, her warmth and kindness captured in each image.

Gazing at her, unable to believe her magnetism, kind heart, and steely strength had been taken from us, I was overwhelmed by it all.

A wave of exhaustion and sadness hit me with a clawing need to flee.

I wanted out.

I needed space to remember her in peace.

I went downstairs, clutching her photo album, the only memento I allowed myself to take from her home, even though she’d urged me, towards the end, to take whatever I wanted.

I slipped out the back where darkness had fallen over the purple-tipped mountains.

The air was heavy with the weight of the night, a silence broken only by the whispering wind and the distant calls of nocturnal creatures.

For a moment, I stood in the front garden, lost in melancholy and solitude. I looked up at the light spilling from the windows, trying to find solace for my grieving heart.

I found none, so I stumbled toward my small VW caddy cargo van. Through tears, I engaged it into drive and disappeared into the night.

Where the mountains were obscured by the thick darkness that had descended upon them, swallowing their peaks and valleys.

LORENZO

Eyes fixed on her departing backside, I swayed with the strength required to tamp down my unexpected desire for her.

All I wanted to do was nab her waist, turn her around and crush my mouth on her soft, pliant lips.

I hissed, feeling like I was about to fall into a deep precipice. My hands clenched to stop myself from striding after her, swooping her in my arms and taking us somewhere private.

Where I’d make her beg for mercy as she cried out my name as she’d never done before with any other man.

What in the hell was I thinking?

Sitting back down, I inhaled deep, trying to calm my runaway soul and let the throbbing in my cock ease.

Easing out a thin herbal cigar from the case in my jacket pocket, I tapped it out and lit it.

Taking a long pull, I flung my head to the back of the chair, relaxed by the bold and harmonic flavour characterised by roasted notes.

Swirling the smoke in my mouth, I forced out the tension, compelling the frustration in my blue balls to drain from me.

Damn, Mia, what a revelation.

Up close, she was even more beautiful than she’d appeared from a distance.

Even though her eyes had brimmed with turmoil, they’d penetrated my soul.

My fingers had itched to stroke her auburn hair as it caught the dying sunlight in a fiery halo. To ease back the sorrow on her delicate features etched with the weight of grief.

I understood how she felt, her need for solitude mirroring my desire to escape the suffocating weight of grief and obligation.

It was rare for me to let myself open up and be vulnerable in front of another person, but Mia’s quiet strength and raw emotion had me suckered.

No woman had ever captivated me this way before, not just physically but also how she’d carried herself with such quiet dignity.

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