Chapter 17
MALAKAI
My head is spinning as we walk back outside. She thinks she's quite liking getting to know me. It is perhaps the barest, faintest of praise, but it feels like I have won the greatest prize in all the planes of existence, in all the lifetimes I’ve lived.
This version of my soulmate… she’s the only one I want.
It makes sense now, too, why she is resisting fate, why she's been resistant to me, why this whole time she's been telling me in no uncertain terms that she wants to decide—not have her fate decided for her.
Because this version of her soul has been, no doubt, raised in great privilege.
But what is privilege when those who are raising you are cruel?
The chill early evening air of fall should snap me back to reality, but I cannot stop thinking about what Aveline has told me—about the pieces of herself she's offered up over tea and tiny sandwiches.
"Is this what courtship is?" I ask abruptly, surprising both myself and, based on the strange look on her face, Aveline as well.
She gives me a long look, and for a moment I think she's going to make another tart reply, Instead I'm gifted with a beautiful smile and the sight of her pretty, white, even teeth behind that rosebud mouth.
I feel myself grow hard, and dismay fills me because I am certain, without a doubt, that we are far from being able to sate that part of my need for her.
"Tea and sandwiches?" she asks finally, tilting her head.
A lock of her light blonde hair falls over her face, and I'm moving before I can even think about the action, brushing it back behind her ear. She doesn't yell at me, doesn't tell me not to touch her, or flinch away. Rather, she leans into my touch.
And I cannot help myself. Though her hair is neatly stowed behind her ear now, I take my time, and I lightly run my thumb across the stunning curve of her cheekbone.
"You're beautiful."
Her cheeks flush a lovely pink as she blushes at both my touch and my words. I drop my hand away, not wanting to overstay my welcome, not wanting her to retreat again from me.
"I suppose it is," she answers. "Courtship, I mean," she says, lowering her lashes as she picks her skirts up to traverse over one of the cobblestones that's not quite level with the rest of the road.
"Maybe not the sandwiches, though," she adds, giving me a tight grin over her shoulder.
"I'm not sure sandwiches are required for it to be courtship. "
"And what of the cakes and pastries?" I ask, enjoying this lighter mood—this sunnier side of hers.
"I do think pastries and cakes are, perhaps, an underutilized mode of courting."
I make a mental note to keep her in sweets, if they are what help me unlock this playful part of her.
"How long does courtship last?" My thoughts keep turning to her legs. Her thighs, her sex.
I want all of her.
She doesn't answer, simply continues her path behind the building to where I can hear the sound of horses. I'd almost forgotten about the giant golden draft horse I disappeared a man for.
"Do you think the clothes are ready?" I ask her, trying to keep the conversation going now that we're no longer in that strange little nook of the tea house where time seemed to stand still.
I have a feeling Lila may have, indeed, some magic of her own…
and more than just brewing an excellent cup of tea.
"They did say that they would be done by the end of the day," Aveline answers slowly, clearly preoccupied with the prospect of getting to her horse more than she is with the clothes.
"Did you ride often?" I ask her. "Back in Stormspire?"
"Not as often as I'd like to have," she responds, glancing back at me.
There's a bounce in her step that wasn't there before, and she's practically skipping to the roofed stalls behind the tea house.
In addition to the great golden and white-maned beast we've acquired, there's a beautiful black draft horse with a white star who wickers at the two of us, lips curling upward, clearly in search of a treat.
"It seems that Druze and Lila's horse is well loved," I say in amusement as the horse cranes its neck to sniff at my pockets.
"We should have ordered some more leather goods for the horse," Aveline says, putting her hand over our new member of Shadow Keep's broad face.
"I'm sure that the cobbler would be more than happy to make us whatever you wish, Aveline," I tell her sincerely.
"You think so?" Aveline asks, glancing back at me. "Who's such a good boy?" she says to the horse, who seems slightly daunted by all of her attention. "Do you think we should have his feet looked at before we leave?" she asks, biting her lip as she turns back to me.
"I took care of all of that," Druze says, appearing around the corner. "I also took it upon myself to get together some things that you might need," he tells Aveline kindly. He's holding a thick, woven horse blanket and a nice leather bridle with brass fittings.
I decide I like Druze, right then and there.
"Oh, you didn't have to do that," Aveline says, but she is already taking the well-oiled bridle and placing it over the big horse's face, her fingers nimbly buckling each piece into place. As for the giant horse, he simply stands there docile, too tired to do anything about it.
I immediately decide that Aveline should have another horse—not just this sad one rescued from that awful man, but something better, faster for her to ride on.
"Would you like to go riding with me tomorrow?" I ask her.
Druze gives me an appraising look then nods slightly at me in approval.
I don’t remember the people in my past lives approving of me or not.
I simply was.
"Riding with you? But we only have one horse," she tells me, laughter in her voice as the horse butts her.
She produces a slice of apple from one of the pockets in her overdress, and I laugh, knowing that she must have squirreled it away while we were eating just for this horse. My bride-to-be has a soft heart—softer than I'd realized—and it makes me like her even more than I already did.
"Druze," I say, and the dryad glances at me knowingly. "Do you have any idea from whom we can procure a pair of riding horses?"
"No," Aveline says, spinning around. "You can't possibly do that."
"What? Buy you a horse?" I say, laughing. "Why shouldn't I? Riding with you sounds like a wonderful way to spend the day."
She hides her face from me, but I have a feeling her cheeks have grown hot again. The thought delights me—that I've embarrassed her and pleased her all at once by offering to do something so easy and simple as purchasing us both horses.
"We'll need saddles too," I add. "Do you prefer side-saddle or astride?" I ask her.
She beams at me. "I hate side-saddle," she says, tossing her hair before turning back to the big blonde draft horse in the stall and kissing it on the nose.
"Why do you think my mother didn't approve of me riding?
" she says, and then laughs as the horse takes another apple from her outstretched palm.
"I think I can find a pair of riding horses for you," Druze answers, watching me with keen eyes.
"If I remember correctly, one of the minotaur brothers had a pair of colts he was looking to sell earlier in the year.
By now, I imagine they'll be ready to ride.
They might need a careful hand, though," he says meaningfully.
"Are you good with horses, then?" he asks me.
"He's ridden many into battle!" Ter offers from wherever he's flown in.
"It's been quite a while," I tell the dryad.
"Well, I'm sure it'll come back to you," Druze says, though he watches me warily, as though the reminder that I'm not human—not anymore—puts him slightly off-guard.
I don't blame him for that. Besides, it's hard to be in a bad mood when Aveline is as happy as she is right now.
"You need to name him," I tell her, gesturing to the draft horse.
"I have to think on it," she says after a beat. "It's too big a decision to make right now. Besides, don't you think I should get to know him a bit more before I make any kind of decision about what we're going to call him?"
"It's entirely up to you, Aveline," I tell her, holding back a laugh.
I have a feeling that after the life this horse lived before, he'd be happy to be called anything she wanted, especially if she's going to keep fattening him up with apple slices and kisses the way she is right now.
Never in my life did I think I would be jealous of the attention a horse was getting, especially one that deserves a soft place to land such as this.
But the longer she gives kisses to that giant beast, the more I think it might be nice to change places with him.
I offer Druze a curt nod, silently thanking the dryad for his care as I step closer to my bride. The twilight is deepening rapidly, painting the sky above the village in bruised shades of violet and ink.
"Come, day witch," I say softly, the dark vanilla and ozone of my magic beginning to stir restlessly beneath my collar. "The frost is starting to settle, and you have spent enough hours on your feet today."
Aveline looks up from the giant Palomino, wiping a trace of apple juice onto her linen overdress. "Are we walking back? Because as much as I admire my new laced boots, my heels are starting to fully register the reality of a cross-country trek."
"We are not walking," I reply, then pause. “Do you need healing, Aveline?”
“No, no, nothing like that.” She strokes the horse’s neck again, looking at me through lowered lashes.
Before she can voice another witty retort, I reach out and wrap a secure arm around her waist, pulling her flush against my chest. Her breath hitches in a delicious, sharp gasp as I call upon the dark.
Reaching out a hand toward the draft horse as well, I wrap his massive frame in a loose wisp of my current so he isn't left behind.
The shadows explode from the cobblestones in a silent, boiling wave, swallowing the three of us whole. For the space of a single heartbeat, the sounds of the village vanish into a weightless, absolute vacuum.
When the darkness dissolves a half-second later, the warm, spiced air of the village is gone, replaced by the crisp, biting wind of the Shadow Keep courtyard.
The living stones groan a low, contented welcome beneath our boots, the stacked rock walls rippling like dark water as the house registers our return.
The draft horse lets out a bewildered snort, instantly comforted as the stable doors slide open unbidden, welcoming him into what I’m sure will be a plush stall.
“That will take some getting used to,” Aveline says. It’s a breathless sort of whisper that goes straight to my cock, and I swallow hard, trying to contain myself.
I set Aveline down onto her own feet, though my large, calloused hands linger on her waist just a fraction too long, absorbing the staggering heat of her body through her cloak.
The physical obsession is a literal fire beneath my ribs, a sharp, grinding friction that tightens with every single breath I take in her presence.
I want her—not just the fated, ancient echo of her soul, but this fiercely stubborn version of her.
My shadow-magic is a boiling, predatory tide screaming to tear away the linen shift, pin her beneath my weight, and mark every single inch of her pale skin until she is entirely consumed by the same wildfire raging in my veins.
"Well," she clears her throat, her aristocratic features flushing a lovely, telltale pink in the silver moonlight as she adjusts her cloak. "That certainly beats a carriage ride. Though a little warning next time would be appreciated by my stomach."
"My apologies, Duchess," I say, guiding her through the heavy oak double doors and up the grand curved staircase of the foyer. The house is on its best behavior, illuminating our path with the soft, ambient gold glow.
We reach her bedchamber, the handle on her door gleaming in the dim light. An unbearable, charged awkwardness settles into the space between us, the proximity turning the air thick and heavy.
I know what I want to do.
I know that I want her to invite me in, to seal the bond between us once and for all, to make her mine.
To make her scream out my name in pleasure.
I lick my lips, watching the curve of her hips as she turns around.
Aveline pauses, her small hand resting on the door handle as she turns to look up at me, her blue eyes dark with a raw, breathless curiosity that tests every single ounce of my control.
"Thank you," she says softly, her voice dropping into a quiet whisper. "For the clothes, and the boots. And... for the horse. It was an incredibly kind gesture. I had a really lovely day. You were excellent company… for an overbearing sort of Elder God."
A ragged chuckle escapes my throat. A visible shiver ripples down her body, and I have to take a moment to compose myself. "I am merely attempting to court you as you deserve, Aveline.”
“You’ve learned a lot about courtship in a day’s time, I must say.”
“Caelen and Ga’Rek informed me that kindness and high-quality presents are the requisite to wooing a witch."
"Did they?" Her lips twitch into a lazy, roguish smirk. "And what else did they advise?"
"They suggested I learn your inner thoughts," I step a single inch closer, my shadows licking at the hem of her skirts. "To memorize exactly what you love, and what you absolutely despise. To be there the exact moment you need me, and to vanish into the dark the moment you require space."
Aveline swallows hard, her gaze flicking down to my lips for a fraction of a second before she darts it away, her pulse thrumming visibly against her throat. "A very practical philosophy. And what category does your current presence fall under, Malakai?"
"An exercise in extreme torment," I murmur, my voice dropping into a low, velvety rasp. "Goodnight, Aveline. Sleep well."
She offers a tight, entirely pleased little smile, her eyes lingering on mine before she slips across the threshold. "Goodnight, Malakai."
The heavy oak door clicks shut, the iron lock sliding into place with a definitive snap that leaves me entirely locked out in the dark.
And all too pleased with myself.