24. Malachi
MALACHI
The mountains don’t forgive mistakes. That’s the first thing I think as we climb higher into the narrow spine of rock and pine that marks the northern edge of my territory. The air is thinner here, colder, biting at my throat with every breath. Gravel shifts underfoot, loose and treacherous.
Perfect place to hide something no one wants found.
Juniper walks ahead of me, steady despite the incline, her focus locked somewhere beyond what I can see. She’s tracking again—following the faint threads of magic that only she seems able to sense clearly.
I watch the way her shoulders stay squared. The way she doesn’t hesitate. Even when she should.
“You’re pushing,” I say.
She doesn’t turn around. “You’re watching.”
“Comes with the job.”
“Being a control freak?”
“Being responsible for keeping you alive.”
That earns me a glance over her shoulder. Brief. Sharp.
“Then keep up,” she says, and turns back toward the trail.
I huff a quiet breath, but I do exactly that. Because she’s right. We don’t have time for slow. Not anymore.
The entrance to the mine is half-collapsed, hidden behind a jagged outcrop and a curtain of dead vines that crunch under my hand as I shove them aside.
Darkness yawns beyond the opening. Cold. Still. Wrong. Juniper stops just inside, eyes narrowing as she scans the interior.
“It’s here,” she says.
I don’t question it. I can feel something too—not magic the way she does, but a tension in the air. A pressure that sits just under the surface of my instincts, setting my teeth on edge.
“Stay close,” I say.
She snorts. “You first.”
Dominant. Stubborn. Completely unwilling to be told what to do. It should irritate me.
It doesn’t. We move deeper into the tunnel together.
The ground is uneven, littered with debris from years of neglect. Old support beams lean at questionable angles. Dust coats everything in a thick, undisturbed layer—except?—
“Footprints,” I murmur.
Juniper crouches beside me, brushing her fingers lightly over the faint impressions.
“Recent,” she says. “Not ours.”
I nod once.
“Then we’re not alone.”
As if summoned by the words, something shifts deeper in the tunnel. A scrape. A breath.
Low. Wrong. Juniper goes still.
“So much for abandoned,” she mutters.
I step slightly in front of her without thinking. She notices. Doesn’t comment. Good.
Because whatever’s down here?—
It’s not right.
The attack comes fast. Too fast. One second the tunnel is silent. The next?—
A figure lunges out of the shadows with a snarl that doesn’t sound fully human. Or fully animal. Shifter. Male. Eyes blown wide with something that looks like rage—but feels like something else entirely.
Twisted. Amplified. Wrong.
“Down!” I snap.
Juniper ducks immediately as I shift. Not fully. Not here. But enough. Claws rip free. Bones strain. Muscles coil with power as the lion pushes forward beneath my skin.
The attacker hits hard. Faster than he should be. Stronger too. Magic. I block the first strike, the impact jarring up my arm as claws meet claws. He’s not thinking. Not really.
This isn’t a fight. It’s a reaction.
“Malachi—”
“I’ve got him,” I growl.
Do I? We slam into the side of the tunnel, rock cracking under the force of it. He snarls again, snapping, wild and unrestrained.
This isn’t instinct. It’s corruption. The anchor is feeding him. Keeping him like this.
“Juniper!” I bark. “Find it!”
“I’m trying!”
The shifter lunges again, and this time I let the lion push harder. My vision sharpens. My senses flare. Everything narrows down to movement, threat, survival. I meet him head-on. We collide. Hard. He stumbles. Just enough.
I take advantage—driving him back, pinning him against the rock wall with a snarl that echoes through the tunnel.
“Fight it,” I grit out.
His eyes flicker. For a second?—
Just a second?—
Something like recognition surfaces. Then it’s gone. Replaced by that same empty rage.
“Malachi!” Juniper shouts. “I found it!”
Good. Because I’m running out of ways to hold him without breaking him.
“Do it!” I shout back.
The magic hits before the sound. A pulse. Sharp and sudden. The shifter jerks under my grip, body going rigid as the energy shifts around us.
Juniper’s voice rises behind me, steady despite the chaos. The counter-ritual. It’s working. The pressure in the air twists, then?—
Snaps. The anchor breaks. This time, I feel it more clearly. Not just in the air. In him.
The shifter gasps, the fight draining out of him so abruptly it’s almost unsettling.
His body sags.
I release him slowly, watching closely as he stumbles back, blinking like he’s waking from a nightmare.
“What—” His voice is rough. Confused. “What happened?”
Juniper steps closer, breathing hard but steady.
“You’re okay,” she says. “It’s gone.”
He looks between us, disoriented.
“I—” He shakes his head. “I couldn’t stop?—”
“I know,” I say.
Because I do. I’ve seen it too many times lately. He nods slowly, still trying to piece himself back together.
“Thank you,” he mutters.
Juniper offers a small nod.
“Get out of here,” she says. “Find your pack. Stay with people you trust.”
He doesn’t argue. He just leaves. And the moment he’s gone?—
The silence crashes back in.
I turn to Juniper. She’s still standing in the tunnel, the faint glow of her magic fading from her skin.
“You okay?” I ask.
She exhales slowly. “Yeah.”
Lie. I step closer.
“Juniper.”
“I said I’m—” She cuts herself off, shoulders dropping slightly. “I’m tired.”
That, I believe.
“Then we rest,” I say.
She blinks at me. “Here?”
“It’s getting dark,” I point out. “And you’re not in any shape to make that climb safely.”
She hesitates. Then?—
“Fine,” she mutters. “But if we get murdered in our sleep, I’m haunting you.”
“Noted.”
The shelter isn’t much. Just a small offshoot of the main tunnel, partially reinforced, with enough space to sit without worrying about the ceiling collapsing.
It’ll do.
Juniper sinks down against the wall with a quiet sigh, closing her eyes briefly.
I keep moving. Checking the perimeter. Listening. Making sure we’re alone. We are. For now.
When I finally settle across from her, the tension in the space shifts. Subtle. But noticeable.
The adrenaline is fading. The fight is over. And what’s left behind?—
Is something else entirely. The bond hums between us. Stronger here. Closer. No distractions. No distance.
Just—
Her. Juniper opens her eyes slowly, meeting my gaze. There’s something different there.
Not fear. Not hesitation. Something warmer. Something dangerous.
“You’re staring,” she says quietly.
“So are you.”
She huffs a soft breath.
“Fair.”
Silence stretches. Not uncomfortable. Just… charged.
“You could’ve hurt him,” she says after a moment.
“I didn’t.”
“I know.” Her gaze flickers. “You held back.”
“I always do.”
“With me?” she asks.
The question lands heavier than it should. I lean forward slightly, resting my forearms on my knees.
“No,” I say honestly.
Her breath catches. Just a little. Good. The bond pulses. Sharp. Demanding. I feel it in my chest, in my blood, in every instinct that tells me?—
Mine.
I push it down. Hard. Juniper shifts closer. Not much. Just enough that the space between us feels smaller. Intentional.
“You keep fighting it,” she says.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
I hold her gaze.
“Because you deserve a choice.”
Something in her expression cracks open at that. Softens.
“Even if I choose wrong?” she asks.
“There is no wrong,” I say. “There’s just… yours.”
The silence that follows is different. Heavier. Full. She moves first. Closing the distance like she’s done pretending this isn’t happening. Like she’s done waiting. Her hand finds mine—warm, steady, real.
The bond surges. Not sharp this time. Not urgent. Just?—
Right. I don’t pull away. I don’t stop her. I don’t want to.
“Malachi,” she murmurs.
That’s all it takes. I move. Carefully at first. Like giving her time to stop me. She doesn’t.
So I don’t stop either. The kiss isn’t gentle. It’s not hesitant. It’s everything we’ve been holding back since the moment we met—tension, frustration, heat, something deeper neither of us has fully named yet.
She leans into it. Matches me. Challenges me. And that?—
That does something to me I’m not prepared for. I shift closer, hands bracing at her sides, caging her in without trapping her. Never trapping. Never forcing. Always giving her the space to walk away. She doesn’t.
Her fingers curl into my shirt instead, pulling me closer. Decision made. Clear. Undeniable. The rest?—
The rest is inevitable. She feels it too. I see it in the sudden tension in her shoulders, the way her breath hitches.
"Malachi..." she begins, but she doesn't seem to know what to say.
I don't give her the chance to retreat. I close the remaining distance between us, my free hand cupping the back of her neck.
"I'm tired of fighting it, Juniper. Aren't you?"
Her eyes search mine, wide and vulnerable. "I've been fighting my whole life. I don't know how to stop."
"Then don't," I murmur, lowering my head. "Just let go."
This kiss is different. There's no frantic desperation, no magic-fueled madness.
It's slow, deliberate, and filled with all the words we haven't said.
It's a question and an answer all at once.
Her lips part under mine, and I deepen the kiss, tasting her, memorizing her.
She sighs, a soft sound of surrender that goes straight to my soul.
My hands find the hem of her shirt, and I pause, giving her one last chance to pull away. Instead, she raises her arms, letting me pull it over her head. Her skin is cool to the touch, but she shivers as my fingers trace the line of her collarbone, down to the simple lace of her bra.
"You're so beautiful," I whisper, my voice thick with emotion.
It's not just lust, though that's certainly there, burning hot and low in my gut. It's reverence. This woman, this witch, is my other half. I've known it from the moment we met, and every moment since has only proven it true.