Chapter 8
“Wake up, love.”
I let out a startled scream, instantly casting a spell at the person in front of me. Malakai expertly sidesteps it, and the spell explodes against the surface of the pond, sending water splashing up and disturbing the entire surface.
“Good morning to you too,” he says, taking a seat next to me. “That looked like a rather gnarly one.”
My eyes widen as I look up at him, my chest heaving and breathing ragged. Behind him, the pond continues to rage, making it painfully clear that I need to control my magic better.
“What—where am I?” I glance around, blinking. After a few seconds, I remember. I calm down, and Malakai hands me a paper cup filled with coffee.
“Good thing you didn’t go for the knife,” he says, taking a sip from his own cup. His gaze lingers on the dagger slightly visible through the open front of my cloak. “You could have stabbed me. Then again…” He grins at me, and I know what he’s aiming at.
Strangely enough, I find myself curious. My cheeks flush, and I attempt to hide it behind my cup, but the widening of his grin tells me I’m failing miserably.
“What are you doing out here, sleeping on a bench like a beggar?” Malakai drinks his coffee, glancing at me from the corner of his eye. His honey skin and slicked-back black hair frame the familiar suit from the day before. He’s just now returning.
I want to mess up that hair. How is that skin so annoying yet so hot at the same time?
He picks up on my thoughts, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Did you get a chance to check the wards?” I ask, diverting attention from what I was thinking.
“Before I came to look for you, I checked. There’s nothing wrong with them, but I changed them up anyway. It does beg the question”—he throws me a look—“why I needed to check them in the first place. You mentioned someone earlier… Care to elaborate?”
I stare at the water, thinking, hesitating. “Someone was here a few nights ago. Right by that tree.” I nod at the tree in question. “I couldn’t sense them until they spoke.” I pause, taking a sip of the coffee, which turns out to be a pumpkin spice latte.
He knows what kind of coffee I like. That knowledge is oddly soothing.
A few more moments of hesitation follow, but I know it’s best to be honest with him, even if it feels like confessing a weakness. “It was unnerving, and I’ve felt uneasy ever since.”
When Malakai speaks, his voice is serious, and the gravity of his tone reflects in his eyes when I look at him. “You know I’ll protect you, no matter what.”
I sigh. “I know. But I want to protect myself, not rely on you. My magic is—or at least should be—plenty for that,” I say, making him close his mouth and keep his remark to himself.
“I also want to be able to protect myself without magic. I might not always be in a position to use it, or maybe I just don’t want to leave a magical signature behind.” I’m making no sense, and I know it. I’m such a mess. “But I need to know how to properly defend myself first.”
Another, longer sigh escapes me. I can tell I’m starting to ramble.
He gives me a long, thoughtful look. “Fine, I’ll ask Tomyla to teach you. Hand-to-hand combat”—he nods at the dagger—“and weapons.”
“You won’t teach me yourself?”
“Trust me, Elly, you coming at me with a bladed weapon…” He grins. “I wouldn’t be doing much teaching.”
No, I think, my thoughts drifting back to earlier when he clearly insinuated that he wouldn’t mind if I stabbed him. That blush returns, but this time I don’t bother trying to hide it.
Malakai stands up and offers me his hand, that wicked grin still on his lips. “I’ll see that our uninvited guest is taken care of,” he says, his tone serious once more. “But first, let’s get back inside. You look like you could use a good meal. I’ll make you breakfast.”
“You sure like to eat for someone who doesn’t need to,” I remark with a soft smile, accepting his hand.
“Human food is one of the few good things this world has to offer. It would be a shame not to indulge in it every now and then.” He shrugs. “And like I said before, food is the easiest way to replenish our magical energy. Which we’ll need more of now that we’re here.”
We walk back to the house, our fingers entwined, empty coffee cups in the other hand.
“How so?” I ask him.
“Our prison dampened magic, keeping it mostly in a slumber when not actively in use. In my case, the chains were an extra dampener. Out here”—Malakai gestures around us—“it’s as it should be: a true part of ourselves, always active even when we’re not consciously using it.
Which means we’ll need to keep our energy up by eating.
Not as frequently as humans or half-breeds, but often enough that we’re not left weak, and more when we burn through a lot of energy. ”
I nod in understanding because it makes sense. My magic has been feeling a lot more active since we got here, and I did notice some hunger again as well.
“Waffles or pancakes?” Malakai asks as I put away my cloak and remove the belt with the dagger.
I blink at him. “I’ve…” I hesitate, almost ashamed to admit it. “I’ve never had either before.”
It’s his turn to blink at me. “Go freshen up,” he sternly dictates. Malakai then rips the coffee cup from my hand and disappears into the kitchen, seemingly taking personal offense to my confession.
When I get back downstairs, it’s clear that he indeed took offense.
Malakai has discarded his jacket and tie, the top buttons of his shirt undone, and the sleeves rolled up, and he’s engrossed in preparing both dishes, a delicious, sweet smell already filling the kitchen.
I make myself a cup of tea and watch him work from my seat at the kitchen table.
It’s kind of adorable to see him fuss over it; he’s way more into cooking than I could have imagined.
I find I like watching him. The sight makes my stomach flutter in ways I haven’t felt for years.
He comes to refill my cup of tea and then places two plates in front of me—American-style pancakes with butter and maple syrup and Brussels waffles with powdered sugar and whipped cream.
Malakai hands me some cutlery and plops down in the chair opposite me.
He gives me an intense look, hands clasped in front of his face.
Looking at me over his knuckles, he waits for me to eat.
I bite into the pancakes first, then the waffles. I moan, and a sparkle ignites in his eyes at this. The pancakes are fluffy and light, so amazingly sweet with the syrup. The waffles are a bit crunchier yet airy at the same time, and the sweetness has an undertone of vanilla.
“Both are so good,” I say, raising a hand to cover my mouth. “But I can’t eat two full plates,” I add, hoping he’ll take one off my hands.
He doesn’t move a muscle, and I find myself unable to choose, which is clearly what he wants. Both dishes are equally good. He truly is an amazing cook.
“Which one do you like better?” I ask him.
I almost have to strain to hear his answer. “Pancakes.” My heart flutters.
He lowers his arms and straightens his waistcoat while I push the plate of pancakes toward him. He accepts it from me, and our fingers brush against each other as he reaches for the plate. My stomach does a somersault, and a genuine smile plays on my lips.
Malakai is silent as he savors every bite, too proud to say it out loud, which makes my smile grow even wider while I take another bite of the waffles.
After breakfast, he goes to freshen up while I clean the kitchen.
“I called Tomyla, and she has agreed to give you lessons,” Malakai says when he returns, cleaned up and wearing a different suit.
“In the morning, I’ll educate you on everything you need to know business-wise.
In the afternoon, you’ll be in Tomyla’s hands.
She’s very capable but has a temper, so try not to piss her off. ”
He stands in front of me, looking down as if to warn me away from the thoughts forming in my mind.
“I’ll try. Wouldn’t want you to have to come and save me from her.” I drape my arms around his neck and look up at him, my hands creeping up to his hair. He catches my hands just as I’m about to run my fingers through it, pulling them behind my back a little too firmly to put me in my place.
“Can’t keep those hands to yourself, can you?” He kisses my lower neck, tracks his tongue up to my jaw, and places a soft kiss on my cheek.
“You promised me,” I say, my voice breathy. Every single one of his touches makes my skin tingle, making it hard to remain focused.
“When we get back.”
“We are.”
“We’re leaving again.”
“You’re no fun.”
Malakai backs me against the wall, his mouth on mine, his hands cupping my face. I try again, but he immediately slaps my hands away, biting my lip in warning. Then he steps back, spins me around, and slaps my ass, directing me toward the hallway. “Get moving. Time is money.”
I yelp, then giggle, followed by a teasingly angry look at Malakai over my shoulder. “Any reason why you seemingly insist on walking there?” I ask while heading for the front door, with him right behind me.
“Do I need a reason?”
“Yes,” I retort sharply, rolling my eyes.
Malakai gives me a long look, as if deciding whether to tell me or not. “I enjoy walking; it clears my head. And we need to blend in, remember?”
I respond with a short, “I remember.”
Once outside, I throw a quick glance at the park but notice nothing out of the ordinary.
“Our neighbors”—Malakai nods to the house on the left—“have invited us over tonight.”
I remember the woman, majestic in every aspect. “I met her briefly yesterday.” Malakai looks at me as if this surprises him. “Can I ask what they are?”
“Vampires, royals of one of the many bloodlines.” He loops his arm around my waist, pulling me closer as we walk.
“Vampires? Is that why she’s so pale?” I ask, slightly struggling to keep up with Malakai’s brisk steps.