Chapter 5 Malachar
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Malachar
I tried not to wince as my mate examined my wounds. Failed. The injuries pulled with every breath, reminding me of how weak I had become in this cursed world.
But the pain was worth it. She was close. Close enough that I could smell her. That intoxicating scent that had driven me mad for the past five days. Nerves and coffee and old books and underneath it all, her. My mate.
My wolf was clawing at my insides, desperate to get closer. To touch and claim. I had to clench my jaw to keep from reaching for her.
She bit her lip as she studied the wounds across my ribs, and I had to suppress a groan that had nothing to do with pain. That lip. Plump and soft and begging to be bitten. My wolf wanted to taste it. Wanted to taste all of her.
Down, I told the beast. Not yet. She is skittish. We must be patient.
The wolf snarled its displeasure but retreated. Barely.
“These look bad,” she muttered, reaching for a cloth. She dipped it in a bottle of clear liquid that smelled sharp. “This is going to sting.”
Sting was an understatement. The cloth touched my wound and fire lanced through my ribs. I growled before I could stop myself, the sound rumbling from deep in my chest.
She jerked back. “Sorry! I’m sorry, I just need to clean them or they’ll get infected.”
“Continue,” I managed through gritted teeth. “I have survived worse.”
A lie. Back home in Lytopia, these wounds would have healed within hours. Days at most. I had been in countless battles, taken injuries that should have killed me, and walked away whole because of my wolf’s healing abilities.
But here? Five days and the wounds looked barely better than when I had arrived. The bleeding had stopped, but the flesh was still angry and red. Some cuts had even reopened.
This weakness was infuriating. Seeing my mate tend to injuries that should have closed days ago, watching her see me diminished and barely functional, it grated against everything my wolf demanded I be for her.
She dabbed at another wound, and I hissed. Forced myself to stay still. To not grab her wrist and pull her closer, to not bury my face in her neck and breathe her in until the pain faded.
“Why aren’t these healing?” she asked quietly. “You’re a werewolf. Don’t you have accelerated healing or whatever?”
“In my world, yes.” I watched her hands as she worked, small and careful.
“These wounds would have closed within hours of receiving them. But here...” I gestured at the injuries.
“There is no magic in this place. I can feel it. Or rather, I cannot feel it. Magic is as necessary to my kind as air. Without it, I am... diminished.”
Her hands paused. “No magic?”
“None that I can sense.” I had spent five days in wolf form, searching the woods behind her dwelling, trying to find even a trace of the power that flowed through Lytopia’s very earth.
Nothing. This world was empty of it. Dead.
“I do not understand how you were able to summon me. Human magic should not work. Humans should not have magic at all.”
She resumed cleaning, her touch gentler now. “I don’t have magic. I’m just a regular person who found a weird book and accidentally read a spell.”
“There is nothing regular about you, little mate.”
She shot me a look. “Stop calling me that.”
“It is what you are.”
“I’m Wen. Just Wen.”
“You are my fated mate. The other half of my soul. Calling you anything less would be an insult to the bond the Moon Goddess has blessed us with.”
She made a noise that might have been frustration or disbelief. Probably both. “The Moon Goddess made a mistake.”
My wolf snarled at that. I felt fur ripple across my shoulders before I wrestled it back. “The Goddess does not make mistakes.”
“Well she did this time, because I’m human. You said it yourself. Humans can’t be mates to wolves.”
“That is what our records say, yes.” I had spent centuries reading every text in Ravenor’s libraries.
History. Lore. Ancient accounts from before my grandfather’s time.
Long ago, a portal had opened between our worlds.
Wolves and humans met, mingled, some even stayed on the wrong side when it closed.
But never in all our recorded history had a human been a fated mate to a wolf.
It should not have been possible. “Yet here you are.”
She was cleaning my wounds with careful hands, close enough to touch, smelling of home and mate and everything my wolf had been howling for since the moment I reached maturity.
The Moon Goddess worked in mysterious ways. I had stopped questioning her wisdom the moment I felt the bond snap into place.
“Great,” Wen muttered. “I’m impossible. That’s just perfect.”
I caught her wrist as she reached for another cloth. Her pulse jumped under my fingers, racing. Good. She felt it too, whether she wanted to admit it or not.
“You are perfect,” I said. “Strong. Clever. Beautiful. Everything I could have wished for in a mate.”
Her cheeks flushed red. “You don’t even know me.”
“I know enough.” I released her wrist before my wolf decided to pull her closer.
“I know you took in a bleeding stranger instead of calling your authorities. I know you defended your friends when they were frightened. I know you run this place of books alone, fighting to keep it alive. I know you are brave even when you are terrified.”
She looked away, but I could smell the pleasure beneath her embarrassment. My wolf preened.
She grabbed a roll of clean bandages and started wrapping my ribs. I watched her work, memorizing every detail. The way she bit her lip when she concentrated. The small crease between her brows. The freckles across her nose that I wanted to trace with my tongue.
Down, I told the wolf again. She is not ready.
My wolf disagreed. Loudly. It wanted to pin her to the floor, wanted to taste every inch of her skin, wanted to bury itself deep inside her while I marked that pretty neck with my teeth.
I was half-hard just thinking about it. Had been fighting arousal since the moment I woke in this world and smelled her. Five days of watching her through windows, of sleeping outside her dwelling, of staying close enough to feel the bond but too far to touch. It was torture.
She moved to my shoulder, dabbing at the bite wound there. The cloth pressed down and pain lanced through me. I grunted, unable to stop the reaction.
“Sorry,” she said softly. “Almost done.”
I did not want her to be done. Did not want her to step away and take her scent and warmth with her. I wanted her to stay close. Wanted to pull her into my lap and feel her weight against me.
Wanted far more than that.
She finished bandaging my shoulder and stepped back. The loss of her proximity was physical. The bond stretched, unhappy with the distance.
“Why did you stay?” she asked, gathering the bloody cloths. “For five days. In the woods. Why didn’t you just leave?”
“I cannot.”
“What do you mean you can’t?”
“The bond.” I gestured between us. “It pulls at me. Being away from you is...” I searched for words in her language. “Painful. Wrong. My wolf demands I stay close. Demands I protect you, provide for you. Prove my worth as your mate.”
She stared at me. “You’re saying you’re physically unable to leave?”
“I could force myself to go. But it would be agony. And for what purpose? You are here. My mate is here. Why would I wish to be anywhere else?”
“Because people think you’re a rabid dog! Because you’re scaring away my customers! Because you almost murdered someone in my bookstore!” She threw her hands up. “You can’t just lurk outside forever.”
“I will do what I must to stay near you.”
“That’s creepy.”
“That is the bond.”
She paced to the window, looking out at the street below. I watched her, cataloguing every movement. The way she wrapped her arms around herself. The tension in her shoulders. The rapid beat of her heart that I could hear from across the room.
“This is insane,” she muttered. “All of it. You’re insane. I’m insane for letting you in here.”
“Yet here I am.”
She turned back to me, and there was something calculating in her eyes. My wolf perked up, interested.
“Okay,” she said slowly. “Okay. You want to stay near me?”
“Yes.”
“You can’t leave because of this bond thing?”
“Correct.”
“And you’ll do anything to prove you’re a worthy mate or whatever?”
I nodded, unsure where she was leading but willing to follow anywhere. “Anything.”
She crossed her arms, and a smile played at her lips. It was mischievous. Dangerous. It made my wolf want to tackle her and lick it off her mouth.
“Fine. You can stay.”
My heart lurched. My wolf howled in triumph. “Truly?”
“On one condition.” She held up a finger.
“Actually, two conditions. First, this is purely platonic. I’m giving you a place to sleep and food and clothes because apparently you’ll just lurk outside if I don’t.
But that’s it. No mate bond. No claiming.
No...” She waved her hand vaguely. “Whatever else wolves do.”
My wolf whined. I ignored it. “And the second condition?”
“You work. I’m not running a charity here. You want shelter and food? You help me with the bookstore. I need someone who can lift heavy things, reorganize shelves, maybe scare off entitled customers.” Her smile turned sharp. “Think you can handle that?”
Work. She wanted me to work. Physical labor in her place of business.
I was a king. I had not done manual labor since before I claimed my throne. My days were filled with strategy meetings, political negotiations, training my warriors. I commanded others to do the physical work. That was what servants were for.
But this? This was different. This was my mate asking me to prove myself. To show her I could provide and protect and be useful.
My wolf was practically vibrating with eagerness. I loved it.
“Yes.” The word came out too quickly. Too eager. I did not care. “Yes. Whatever you need. I will do it.”
This was perfect. Better than perfect. I would have access to her dwelling. Would be near her constantly. Would have every opportunity to show her what an excellent mate I could be. How capable. How strong. How worthy of her.
I would woo her properly. Show her that the bond was not a curse but a gift. And when she finally accepted it - accepted me - I would claim her so thoroughly she would never doubt again.
“Okay then.” She was still smiling, but there was wariness in her eyes. Good. She should be wary. I was a predator, and she was prey I had every intention of catching. “We have a deal. You work, you stay. You try anything weird, you’re out.”
“I will not try anything weird,” I lied.
Everything I planned to do was probably considered weird by human standards. But I would be careful. Patient. I would wait until she came to me willingly.
Even if it killed me.
“Good.” She moved toward a door on the far side of the room. “Wait here. I’ll get you some clothes. You can’t walk around in a blanket forever.”
She disappeared through the door. I heard her rummaging through things, muttering to herself. I stayed on the couch, resisting the urge to follow or crowd her space.
My wolf was not happy about the platonic condition. Was even less happy about the no claiming rule. But it was a start. She was allowing me to stay, to be close.
The rest would come in time.
She returned with an armful of fabric. Garments, I realized. Human clothing. She held them out to me, and I took them.
The scent hit me immediately. Male. Old but distinct. My wolf snarled, and I felt my eyes flash red before I could stop it.
“These are male garments.” My voice came out rougher than intended. “Who do they belong to?”
“My grandfather.” She said it gently, watching my reaction. “He died six months ago. These were his. I was going to donate them, but...” She shrugged. “I think he’d be happy knowing they went to someone who needed them.”
Dead family. Not a rival male. The snarl died in my throat, replaced by shame. “I... forgive me. I did not mean to...”
“It’s okay. The possessive growling thing is probably a wolf trait, right?”
“Yes.” I looked down at the clothes in my hands. They were well-made. Worn but cared for. A gift from her family, even if that family was gone. “Thank you. This is a generous gift.”
“Don’t get mushy on me.” But her voice was soft. “They’re just clothes.”
They were more than clothes. They were trust. Acceptance. A place in her world, even if it was small.
I would take it. Would take anything she offered and use it to build more.
“So.” She clasped her hands together. “We have an agreement. You can stay in the apartment. I’ll make up the couch for you. There’s a bathroom through that door. Kitchen is over there, help yourself to food. And tomorrow morning, we start work.”
“What would you have me do, little mate?”
“Wen,” she corrected. Then paused. Smiled that mischievous smile again. “Actually, if you’re working for me, you should probably call me boss.”
Boss. A title. A position of authority. My wolf loved it. Loved that our mate was strong enough to command us.
“As you wish, boss.” I tested the word. It felt strange in my mouth. But good. Right.
Her smile widened. “Oh, I’m going to enjoy this.”
I should have been concerned. Should have been wary of that look in her eyes. But I was not. I was eager. Excited. Ready to prove myself.
“Tell me what to do, boss,” I said. “I am yours to command.”
The words came out lower than intended. Rougher. Filled with all the meaning she was not ready to hear.
Her cheeks flushed. Her heartbeat kicked up. And I knew, mate bond or not, she felt the pull too.
She wanted me. Even if she would not admit it yet.
I could wait. I had waited my entire life for my fated mate. I could wait a little longer for her to realize what I already knew.
That we belonged together. That the Moon Goddess had chosen well, and this bond between us was inevitable.
That she was mine, whether she liked it or not, I just had to convince her of it… And I had every intention of doing exactly that.