Chapter Forty-four
The ice isn’t comfortable but to keep Malakai sane, I leave it on my knuckles, even though it burns.
I’m still waiting for him to come back when a man steps up next to me at the bar.
“Olivia,” He says my name like he knows me but when I look at him, I don’t recognize his face.
“Um, hello?”
“Accident?” He asks, referring to my hand.
I pale, “Yes. Nothing to worry about.”
“I do hope it isn’t too bad.”
“I’m sorry,” I turn to him fully, “Do I know you?”
“Oh, no,” He shakes his head, “Apologies, I’m Stefan. Malakai’s cousin.”
“Oh, right, okay.” I frown, “Hello.”
I look past him, waiting for Malakai to return. There’s something about this guy that I don’t like, not sure what it is but I’m instantly on alert.
“Malakai hasn’t told you about me?” He asks.
“Um,” My teeth gnaw at my lip as my eyes keep flicking to the door, waiting for him to return. “Maybe? I can be forgetful.” I lie.
Stefan smirks, “It’s okay, Olivia. It would not surprise me if my cousin failed to mention me. Our relationship is a little strained.”
“Why?” I blurt.
“It’s a long story,” He tells me, “Can I get you a drink?”
“No,” I rush, “I mean, no, thank you. I’ve had enough.”
Even though a drink right now would be delightful. Especially since it’ll likely ease the pain in my hand.
He asks for a beer when he’s served but doesn’t leave after he’s been given his drink.
“I have to say,” He leans on the bar casually, like we’re old friends. “You don’t seem to be Malakai’s type at all.”
Hackles raised, “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”
Brows shoot up at my tone and I resist the urge to shrink. I feel incredibly vulnerable right now, with an injured hand and already a little emotional over the fact I just hit someone. I could cry. I want Malakai.
It’s that realization that has my spine straightening. I want him. Right now.
He’s strength and safety in the most profound way considering he’s the most dangerous man I know. But for me? He isn’t a monster.
He isn’t the devil.
For me he is a rock. He is a net to catch me, a crutch to hold me up.
He’s never once made me feel weak.
Though he absolutely could if he wanted to.
I’ve been looking at him all wrong, like having him by my side is a bad thing. But in fact, him as my husband, no matter how it came about, is a strength I didn’t know I was missing. My heart starts to pound inside my chest, and I glance at the door again.
“How interesting,” Stefan comments, drawing my attention once more. “You’re falling in love with him.”
He says it in a way that makes it appear like a weakness, like it’s a plight.
“I wish you well, Olivia.”
His words hold no warmth. There’s an undertone of violence, a bite of something that makes me incredibly wary.
Since Malakai isn’t coming back and I can’t see him, I search for anyone else, thankfully capturing the gaze of Killian who isn’t looking at Savannah for the first time tonight.
I plead with as much as I can for him to come to me and it must be enough because his eyes move to Stefan who still hasn’t left, even though his last statement was one said in farewell and then he’s getting up, striding toward me, long legs eating up the space.
He is darkness and violent intent, “Olivia,” He says, slotting himself in the space between Stefan and me, “You okay?”
I shake my head subtly, but lie and answer, “Good. How are you?”
“Parched,” Killian answers, before he gives his attention to the other man, “Stefan.”
Stefan doesn’t answer but does push off the bar, glancing once more at me before he starts to head for the door.
“Stay away from him,” Killian warns me.
I quirk a brow, “You think I wanted that conversation?”
“What did he say?”
“Nothing,” I shift the ice on my hand, “I just get bad vibes from him.”
“Good.” Killian nods. “Heard you smacked Regina.”
“Sebastian?”
Killian grins, “Gave her a nice bloody lip. But how the fucking hell did you damage your hand so bad?”
I roll my eyes at him, “I’ve never hit anybody! I don’t know how to!”
Chuckling, “So defense lessons?”
“Apparently I need them.”
Malakai rejoins us, sliding up to the bar, “He’ll be here in five.”
“Can you move your fingers for me, Olivia?” The doctor asks. He’s an older gentleman, with silver hair and deep wrinkles. We’ve moved into one of the side rooms used for conferences for some privacy while he checks my hand.
I wiggle my fingers the best I can and while it hurts, I can move them just fine. Malakai watches with rapt focus, cataloguing every wince so I try to stifle them, so he doesn’t flip out.
“Good,” the doctor says, “Now squeeze.” He slots his hand into mine.
I wrap my fingers around his palm, suck in a breath and grip, knowing my nails are digging into his skin.
“Good, very good,” He comments, withdrawing his hand only to grab mine and begin to move around my fingers, pulling and stretching. I wince and gasp, but they move without issue and while it hurts, it’s not unbearable which tells me already that nothing is broken.
“I don’t think we have any breaks,” The doctor confirms what I was just thinking, “Just some bad bruising.”
“So, we don’t need a hospital?” I ask.
He shakes his head, “Painkillers. Maybe some compression and ice. The swelling should go down in a few days, but this bruising will last a little longer.”
“But I definitely do not need a hospital,” I repeat.
“No,” He smiles, and I flick my eyes to Malakai who is stiff and glaring at where the doctor holds my hand, “I can prescribe some medicine,” He tells me, “Would you like me to?”
“Yes please,” I bring my hand back to me, the throb a little uncomfortable but I’m relieved there are no breaks.
He writes out a prescription before he stands. “If that will be all?” He asks Malakai.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure, Mr. Farrow,” He assures him, “Your wife is just fine. A little pain meds and rest on her hand and she’ll be as good as new.”
“Very well,” Malakai sighs, walking him to the door.
“I can see myself out. You have a good evening.”
He leaves us, the door clicking closed behind him.
“See nothing to worry about,” I tell Malakai.
“Let’s go get you your meds.”
I laugh, “No. We’re going to enjoy the rest of the evening, Malakai. The meds can wait. I have some pain meds in my purse that’ll work just fine for now.”
“Why do you have meds!?” He demands.
“Fuck me,” I sigh, getting up, “In case I get a headache. Or cramps. Stop worrying. You’ll go grey.” I pat his chest and open the door, breezing through it and hear him follow. I smile when his arm snakes around me.
He pulls us to an abrupt stop and then his mouth is on mine.
I’m breathless when he pulls away, heart pounding, “What was that for?” I breathe.
“Because I can, wife. Because you’re mine.”