6. Malrec #3
He doesn't move from Lenna's side—doesn't threaten her at all—but his entire body language shifts back to hostile awareness. That low purr cuts off. His luminous eyes fix on me with unmistakable resentment, and I watch his muscles tense beneath armored plating.
Warning. Clear as any verbal communication.
Stay back.
I stop several feet away, jaw tight, trying to reassess how to approach this. The bridle needs to go on. That's non-negotiable. But Azhrael's making it very clear he doesn't want me close while Lenna's here.
"I'll do it," I start to say, preparing to push past his resistance the way I've done with difficult beasts before.
Azhrael snarls.
The sound is visceral, immediate, and targeted directly at me. Not a general warning. A specific threat to back the fuck off.
Lenna doesn't flinch. She just holds her hand out toward me, palm up, expectant.
"Give it to me."
The words are simple. Practical. But something about her tone makes it sound less like a request and more like she already knows exactly what needs to happen next.
I should refuse. Should insist on maintaining my authority over my own beast, on completing the task myself regardless of Azhrael's resistance. Should not hand over control to a human who has no training in beast management and no business being this deep in his enclosure to begin with.
But the containment bridle is already moving from my hand to hers before I consciously decide to release it. My magic carries it across the space between us, and she catches it without hesitation.
Her fingers close around the reinforced straps, and I wait for her to look confused. To hesitate. To turn back toward me for instruction on how to actually apply the thing.
She doesn't.
Instead, she moves with fluid certainty. Shifts her position relative to Azhrael with the kind of spatial awareness that suggests intimate familiarity. Reaches up to adjust the primary strap with her free hand while the other guides the bridle into position.
Azhrael holds completely still. Lets her work without resistance, his massive head lowering further to accommodate her reach.
And Lenna slips the bridle on like she's done it a thousand times before.
Not like someone following half-remembered instructions or mimicking movements she's seen. Like muscle memory. Like instinct so deeply ingrained she doesn't need to think about the mechanics at all.
The main strap settles into place. She adjusts the side fastenings with quick, confident movements.
Checks the containment runes embedded in the material to ensure they're aligned properly—something she shouldn't even know to look for.
Then secures the throat latch with a precision that would take most trained handlers weeks of practice to achieve.
Perfect. Every movement was perfect.
I stare at her, trying to reconcile what I just watched with what I know about her background. Human laborer. No prior beast training. Two weeks in my stable, most of that spent on basic maintenance tasks nowhere near the actual creatures.
She shouldn't be able to do what she just did.
But she's already turning away, one hand resting casually against Azhrael's jaw, the other loosely holding the bridle's lead line.
She guides him forward with a gentle pressure that he responds to immediately, moving with her toward the enclosure exit like they've walked this path together countless times.
I don't move. Can't move. I'm rooted in place watching her lead my beast—my most dangerous, temperamental beast—out of his containment space with the kind of natural authority I've spent years cultivating and she apparently just has.
She doesn't look back at me. Doesn't wait for approval or further instruction. Just walks through the barrier I'm still holding open with magic that's starting to tremble from how tightly I'm gripping it.
The fissure in my chest cracks wider.
I don't understand this. Don't understand her.
Don't understand how she can move through my stable like she belongs here while simultaneously making it very clear she despises my presence.
Don't understand the dreams that feel like memories or the way my body responds to her proximity with alarm and attraction in equal measure.
Don't understand why watching her walk away with Azhrael following docilely behind feels like watching something slip through my fingers that I didn't even know I was holding onto.
Lenna reaches the main walkway and pauses, finally glancing back. Her brown eyes meet mine across the distance, and the carefully neutral expression she's worn all morning cracks just slightly.
For one brief moment, I see confusion there. Maybe even distress. Like she's as unsettled by what just happened as I am.
Then it's gone, locked away behind that pragmatic mask she wears, and she's moving again. Leading Azhrael toward the external passages that connect to the feeding pastures beyond the estate.
I lower the barrier. Let it seal back into place with a resonance that echoes through the stable.
And I stand there in the empty enclosure, trying to sort through what the fuck just happened and coming up with absolutely nothing that makes sense.