Chapter 25 Malik
Malik
The look of anger on Olivia’s face could have obliterated a lesser man. Even with all my strength, power, and the centuries I had endured, I felt utterly immobile beneath the weight of her fury.
I rubbed my jaw, considering how much more to reveal.
“Keep going, Malik,” she urged. “Don’t you dare leave out any details.”
I almost smiled—almost. Of course, Olivia would demand the full truth, no matter how painful. Like it or not, our connection had always been strong. I had kept her in the dark for too long.
My gaze locked onto hers, aware of Roman’s piercing, possessive stare boring into me.
“It all started when I became obsessed with you, Isabelle.”
Olivia flinched, her jaw tightening. “I’m not Isabelle. I’m Olivia.”
I nodded, my expression unreadable. “Please forgive me. I became obsessed with Isabelle.”
For a fleeting moment, my gaze flicked to Roman.
The rigid set of his jaw, the way his fingers dug into the fabric of his trousers—he was seething. His flinty-eyed glare told me everything I needed to know.
I had betrayed him. I had betrayed both of them.
But I refused to show weakness. My confession had to mean something.
“You left to find the Moon Dagger.” My voice was steady, resolute. “You trusted me. You trusted that I would look after Isabelle and the children.”
I held his gaze, forcing him to see the truth in my words. “And I did. At first, that was all it was. Isabelle and I fell into a rhythm—we shared chores and took turns watching over the children, playing with them, and caring for them. We built a life in your absence.”
I swallowed hard, my voice growing quieter. “We both maintained our roles, upheld the boundaries that should never be crossed.”
A bitter chuckle left my lips. “But for me, it became impossible.”
I looked away, staring into the fire as though it could absolve me. “I fooled myself into thinking I could finally have the life I had been denied for so long, that I could claim something pure. Something… real.”
The confession burned my throat, but I forced myself to say it.
“Because I fell in love with Isabelle.”
I turned toward the fire, watching the flames curl and dance, their heat licking at the edges of my thoughts.
The past unfurled before me, carrying me back to those fleeting moments of quiet domesticity—keeping house with Isabelle, watching over the children, existing in a life I had never believed I could have.
Those had been some of the happiest days of my tortured existence.
Still facing the fire, my voice emerged softer, laced with bittersweet longing. “Isabelle was devoted to her husband and children. She was independent. Fiercely strong. Much like you are today, Olivia.”
I turned then, clasping my hands behind my back, letting the hearth’s warmth seep into my bones as though it could thaw the ache deep inside me.
A hollow smile curved my lips. “She never took my advances.” I exhaled a quiet laugh devoid of humor. “But I tried. God help me, how I tried.”
The memories tumbled through my mind like a gathering storm—relentless, inescapable.
“I couldn’t stop myself. The craving for her grew unbearable, insatiable. It burned like wildfire, devouring me whole.”
I lifted a hand as if I could hold those memories in my palm and preserve them before they crumbled to dust. Then, I pursed my lips and blew as though scattering the past to the winds.
“You have always been who you are, Olivia. The woman you were then is the woman you are now.” My voice dropped, quiet yet resolute. “And yet, the longing I felt for you all those centuries ago still lingers within me today.”
Our eyes met, and something electric crackled in the space between us—a silent storm brewing, thick with unspoken truths and irreparable wounds.
Before I could stop myself, I stepped closer, the pull of her like gravity itself.
I knelt before her, my fingers wrapping gently around hers. Every atom of my being ached for her and yearned for what had always been forbidden.
But all I could say was, “I knew I could never have you. That we could never be, yet… nothing could stop me from trying.”
Our gazes tangled, caught between the prison of the past and the unrelenting ache of the present.
It was excruciating to let myself be this vulnerable—this open. I had never allowed it before.
I released Olivia’s hand and stepped back, forcing distance between us.
“I backed off, realizing my attempts at seduction were in vain. Isabelle was too loyal to Armand and in love with him to betray him.” I let out a quiet, humorless laugh. “But then she let something slip. She and Armand were trying for another child.”
A sharp exhale. My hands curled into fists at the memory. “I became outraged.”
My gaze burned into the space between them as if reliving the moment. “‘This is pure foolishness,’ I had told Isabelle. ‘You’re both Timebornes. That puts your entire family in danger, but especially your children. They are Timebounds, which makes them the perfect targets for Timehunters.”
I shook my head, still feeling the heat of that argument as though it had happened yesterday. “We fought through the night, and neither of us backed down. She called me selfish. Accused me of trying to drive a wedge between her and Armand, of using fear and jealousy to manipulate her.”
I whirled to face them, my insides ablaze.
“Nothing could have been further from the truth.”
The truth of my words settled over the room. Olivia recoiled slightly, and Roman looked like I had driven a dagger straight through his gut.
“Family meant everything to Isabelle. She wouldn’t abandon her dream of more children, but eventually… she listened. She grew afraid. The truth of what I told her haunted her, and she wept over it. Night after night, she cried herself to sleep.”
My voice dipped into something raw, something fractured. “And I—” I exhaled sharply. “I did the only thing I could. I consoled her. Held her. That was all.”
My gaze flickered to Olivia, my past colliding with the present.
“Holding Isabelle,” I corrected, though saying her name felt no different than the one I had just avoided.
I clenched my jaw, rubbing at the corners of my mouth. “But fear weakens even the strongest hearts. Grief, too. Isabelle grew fragile, burdened by the revelation of what I had told her.”
My throat tightened. “And my desire for her… it became unbearable. Unquenchable. Just as my darkness did.”
For a long moment, I stared past the sofa at the cold stone walls of the room. But I saw nothing. Nothing but the ghosts of that night.
Then, I turned my gaze to Olivia—cold, hollow, and filled with the agony of my confession.
“And then, one night… Isabelle became so vulnerable that I was able to seduce her.”
Roman’s nostrils flared, his blood roaring to the surface. The veins in his neck bulged, his fists tightening so violently it was a wonder he hadn’t leaped from the couch and driven them into my skull.
In his place, I would have done the same.
I exhaled. “Isabelle responded to the darkness inside of me—my potent desires. But her devotion to Armand was stronger.” My voice was quiet, but its raw edge could not be ignored. “At the last moment, she ripped herself away, leaving me frozen and wanting in her bedchamber.”
I swallowed hard. “I scrambled out of bed to follow her. She was sobbing, crying, ‘What have I done?’” My fists clenched at the memory, the desperation in her voice still haunting me. “She was furious with herself. With me.”
My throat tightened. “I found her outside in the moonlight, pacing in wild circles, her hands tangled in her hair. She looked lost, undone.”
I turned to Olivia. “‘Stay away from me,’ she growled when I stepped closer.” A hollow chuckle escaped me. “But fool that I am, I couldn’t stay away.”
The memory was as vivid as if it had just happened. “I begged for her forgiveness. I swore I wouldn’t deny Armand my love—I would love you both.” My chest ached as I met Olivia’s eyes, my own stinging with unshed tears. “And you said no.”
The ache of that rejection crashed over me like a relentless tide, drowning me in the sorrow of a love never realized.
But I couldn’t let them see my weakness.
Fury surged in place of grief. I wiped my tears away with the back of my hand, my expression hardening.
“You swore me to secrecy.” My voice was sharp now, laced with a bitterness that had festered for centuries. “You told me you would cast me out if I ever said this to Armand.” I let out a short, humorless laugh. “And then you left me.”
My lip curled, my rage barely contained. “I became nothing but a caretaker. Childcare, nothing more, while you and Armand searched for the dagger.”
Olivia shot to her feet, her eyes blazing. “Stop talking to me as if I am that same woman!”
I tilted my head, regarding her with something close to amusement—but the pain still burned beneath my skin.
“Oh, but you are,” I murmured, my voice dropping to something almost reverent, almost broken. “We are still trapped in the same fate and cruel cycle.”
I let my gaze drift between them, my shoulders rigid. “I remain on the outside, watching. Loving you both from a distance. Sworn never to have what you share so freely with each other.”
The pain in my chest grew unbearable. It clawed at my ribs and ripped through my very soul.
I stalked to the fireplace, snatched up the iron poker, and stabbed it into the burning logs, sending a spray of embers into the air. The fire roared back to life, but it did nothing to temper the inferno within me.
I was too furious, too raw to speak.
Me. The man who had always been impassive. The man who had mastered control over centuries of torment. And yet, the woman who sat before me—whether she was Olivia or Isabelle—had always been my undoing.
I stared into the flames, gripping the poker so tightly my knuckles turned white. I forced my emotions into submission, molding them into something cold, something jagged.