Chapter 30 Malachi
Malachi
I’m up late the next morning, and I don’t even fucking care. Exhaustion still sits heavy on my shoulders, like some imp draining my lifeforce. When I shuffle into the living room to see Roman pale face, and Cain yawning his head off, I realize I’m not alone in my tiredness.
“Where’s Ophelia?” I ask.
“Taking a shower,” Cain mutters. “She already said goodbye to my brother and Deacon.”
He’s distracted, and I understand why. He’s lost his father, and no matter how much of a bastard his father was, that shit still hurts.
“Did you enjoy last night?” I’m hoping to change his thoughts from dwelling on the bad things he’s going through, even if only momentarily.
It works because he looks up at me and gives me a shit-eating grin. “I did, thanks for asking.”
I give a rueful smile and try to tamp down my jealousy. “I definitely get to be the one who spends a night alone with Ophelia next.”
The front door opens, and Deacon walks in with Cain’s brother, Samuel.
“We’re about ready to go,” Deacon says.
Cain stands and walks to his brother. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” He enunciates the words clearly so Samuel can read his lips but also moves his hands in sign. “There’s going to be so much to sort out, and I feel guilty leaving you to do it alone.”
Samuel signs something, and Cain nods. “Yeah, I know you’re grown now and you’ll be fine. It’ll just be for a few days, until I’m certain Ophelia is okay, and then I’ll join you.”
Samuel and Cain hug, and they stay locked together for a long time, until Cain pulls back and roughly ruffles Samuel’s hair. Samuel grins and punches Cain’s shoulder, so Cain gets him in a headlock.
They roughhouse a little and then break apart, both grinning. As they grow serious once more. Cain taps Samuel on the shoulder. “If you need me, message me, and I will be there, okay? We can all come if need be.”
Sameul nods and signs something.
Cain snorts. “He says I worry too much,” he translates for us.
Then Deacon says his goodbyes, too, and they head out to the RV. We follow them out and watch them drive away. Cain stands there long after they’ve gone.
“Come on.” Roman claps Cain on the back. “We’ve got a ritual to prepare for.”
Roman told Cain yesterday that he wanted to do this ritual, and Cain is on board.
Roman didn’t tell Cain that he’s the major reason we need it.
He simply said that he’s worried about the four of us and wants to connect after finally ending the Prophet and getting him out of Ophelia’s life.
Knowing Cain, and how proud he is, he’d have said no if he believed we were doing this for him.
The mention of sex pulls Cain out of his deep thoughts, and he turns to Roman and me. “What should we tell Ophelia about it?”
“Nothing much,” Roman says. “She already knows we are doing a ritual, but she doesn’t know the details, and that’s fine for now.
I think she’ll get all up in her head about it, but we can tell her this evening before we begin.
” He brushes his thumb over his lower lip, thinking.
“In fact, Mal, you’ve been moaning about not getting time with her.
Do you want to take her out, distract her?
Maybe take her to the bar for a bite? If she’s relaxed, this will go a lot better than if she’s nervous. ”
I frown. “I thought I’d get time with her for sexy shit, not taking her to the bar for a meal.”
Cain laughs. “Are you saying you don’t like talking to her and only want her for sex?”
That pisses me off because it’s far from true. “No, fuck-face, of course I want to spend time with her. But I get a night alone with her, too, sooner than later.”
I’ll be proud to be out in public with her. There are plenty of pretty girls at Verona Falls, but Ophelia really is a rare beauty. She’s got the kind of face that could launch a thousand ships.
“Speak of the angel, and she’ll appear,” Cain says.
I glance up, and my breath catches. Ophelia is wearing a long, loose dress, and it reminds me so much of the way she used to dress when she first arrived here.
It makes my cock hard as I instantly recall us chasing her in the woods.
But she’s changed things up a little because this dress has a dark brown belt pulling it together in the middle, giving her shape, and she’s wearing cowboy boots with it, and a matching brown bag slung over her shoulder.
“You look gorgeous,” I say.
She beams at my words, and I like how happy the little things in life make her.
“It seems a shame to waste all this hotness sitting around inside. Would you do me the honor of having brunch in the bar with me?”
Her eyes light up. “That would be lovely. Why don’t we all go?”
“I’ve got something to work on,” Roman says immediately.
“Yeah, and I need to make some calls,” Cain adds. “Sorry. But you guys go. Have fun.”
“Oh, if you’re sure?” Ophelia’s face falls, and again, I get that nagging feeling that maybe I’m being a little pushed out here. I figure she and I really do need some time together.
I grab my wallet and phone, shoving them into my pockets, and we head out the door.
We walk through the woods, hand in hand, and my heart warms. The birds twitter and tweet in the branches overhead, and the sun filters through in a kaleidoscope of light.
I inhale the earthy scent of nature and glance at the girl by my side.
We must look like an interesting couple, with her so fair and me so dark.
For a moment, I try to picture what it would be like if it was just the two of us…
but I can’t do it. We come as a four, no question.
When we get to the bar, it’s surprisingly busy since it’s not even lunchtime yet. They’ve started to offer brunch recently, though, and it’s popular.
In the corner, Vani is sitting with Saint.
I lift my hand in acknowledgment, and Vani waves back.
Saint flips me the finger, but he’s grinning, so I think he’s just shitting with me.
I roll my eyes and guide Ophelia into a corner at the other side of the room.
I don’t have anything against Vani, and even Saint is bearable in small doses these days, but I want Ophelia to myself.
We sit in a darkened booth—with me next to her instead of across the table—and I hand her the menu.
“What do you fancy?” I ask, looking at the options.
She shrugs and wrinkles her small nose.
I tense my jaw. “Ophelia, I know you’ve been through so much, but you need to eat.”
“I will. I just can’t eat much at the moment. I’m feeling a lot better, but my stomach is always affected when I get upset or stressed.”
“I understand, baby, but you can’t waste away. There’s nothing of you as there is.”
She looks at the menu then glances up at me. “Is there anything you recommend? What are you having?”
I grin. “I’m having eggs benedict with extra crispy bacon. It’s awesome.”
“Eggs benedict.” She reads the menu item. “I’ve never had that.”
“You can try some of mine, if you’d rather order something you know you’d like?”
“No.” She closes the menu. “I want to try new things. I’ll have that, too, and an orange juice, please.”
I head to the bar and place our orders. When I sit back down, sliding onto the seat next to her, I see she’s watching Vani and Saint interact.
“She’s so sexy,” she says wistfully. “I wish I had her curves and confidence.”
“Are you shitting me?” My voice rises, and I force myself to modulate my tone. “Ophelia, you’re fucking gorgeous.”
She shakes her head, and her fingers automatically reach for her face, brushing over the scar.
“Baby.” I take her hand, stilling her. “You’re beautiful. I mean it. You’re astonishingly beautiful.”
“I’m not,” she argues. “I’ve got a scar, weird eyes, and my hair is so wispy.”
Wispy? Is she deluded? I love her hair. I’m obsessed with her hair. She surely can’t see it that way? I take it as a personal afront.
“It’s like fucking silk,” I growl, letting my fingers trail through it, my cock jerking in response.
I sometimes imagine it wrapped around my dick when I masturbate, but I pull myself back into the here and now, dragging my mind out of the gutter.
“Your eyes are incredible, and your scar only adds to your beauty. It’s a sign of strength.
I’m not just saying this to make you feel better, Ophelia.
You’re… lots of girls are hot, or pretty, right?
And you are both those things, but you’re more. ”
I pause then because I’ve nearly veered into telling her that she’s so unique that men would kill to be with her, but I realize that is partly why the Prophet wanted her. Maybe there’s a part of Ophelia that wants to feel normal? Average? Perhaps there’s a certain safety in that for her?
Changing the subject slightly, so I don’t wax lyrical about her face and risk creeping her out, I brush some of her hair back from her face and kiss her ear. “I’m going to have you all to myself one night this week, and I’ll show you how sexy I find you.”
She giggles, and a little shiver runs through her. God, she’s so damn hot it makes me want her all the time.
Our food arrives, breaking me out of my lust trance, and she looks at her plate with the yellow sauce drizzled all over the eggs and the English muffins.
She uses her knife to slice into the egg, and the rich yolk oozes out.
Cutting herself a bit of everything and pushing it onto her fork, she takes a bite, and her eyes roll back in her head.
“Oh, my,” she mumbles around the food. She chews and swallows and licks her lips. “Oh. My. God. That’s… oh, I like it.”
I chuckle at her reaction. “I’m not sure I like you responding to eggs benedict the way you do to us doing depraved things to you, baby. It’s a delicious breakfast, but I feel it should be a few rungs down on the ladder from that.”
She smacks my arm playfully, and we eat, chat, order coffees, chat some more, and I try to prolong things long enough for Roman to get everything ready for later.