Chapter 14
“You sure you don’t want anything to eat? It will help you heal that wound faster.” Malakai hands me a cup of tea, and I wince as I accept it from him.
Training with Tomyla has been rough over the last couple of days. She’s pushing me hard and nearly cut me in half with a brutal slash of her sword. Though I healed myself without issue, I know I’ll be sore for a while. It took Malakai a great deal of restraint not to kill Tomyla when he found out.
Apparently, he instructed her not to hold back, but this is pushing it even for him.
Though I suspect his reaction is only because he isn’t the one inflicting the damage.
Both he and his magic are frantic in that “I want to protect you, but I also want you to suffer” way of his.
My savior and my damnation. It’s kind of adorable to see him fuss over me like that, especially since he tries not to show it.
“I’m fine. A little pain won’t kill me; it builds character.”
Malakai releases the cup of tea, and my finger brushes against the back of his hand when he pulls away.
Just a little nudge is all it takes for the glamor to fall away from him.
At this point, I’m certain he keeps it on in the house to either annoy me or because he enjoys it when I’m the one who strips it away.
The smirk he gives me could be for either reason.
I sip from my cup while he takes a seat next to me on the sofa, breathing in the smell of sencha and roses.
This combination of bitter, sweet, and floral is rapidly becoming a favorite.
We’re in the library, the fire roaring beside us, the crackling wood putting me at ease.
The scent of the hot tea combined with the mild, smoky one from the fire makes me want to stay here forever.
“How’s it going?” Malakai places my legs on his lap while nodding toward the grimoire lying open on the side table. He reaches behind him, grabs a blanket from the floor, and drapes it over both of us.
“It’s going,” I mumble.
In addition to getting my ass kicked by Tomyla, I’ve been practicing my earth magic—small spells to get used to the feeling of using it. It’s like warming up before finally attempting something bigger.
Malakai pinches my toe, and I nearly kick him in the face in response. I glare at him in warning, and he smirks back at me. “Asshole,” I mutter under my breath.
He clicks his tongue, and I know exactly what he’s thinking.
“I’ll behave,” I say, leaning back against the side of the sofa, not commenting on how he should behave as well. “For now.”
He raises an eyebrow at me, and I merely grin back before holding out my free hand to him, palm up.
Malakai looks down at it, his eyebrows knitting together in unspoken question.
I wiggle my fingers a bit, and a small sprout shoots up, unfurling itself into a beautiful white lily.
A soft, light-blue hue lingers around the delicate flower, indicating that it’s not solely earth magic that made this happen, but my own as well.
Malakai’s eyes widen as he looks on, and they widen even more when I make the flower wither away within seconds until it looks as if it was never there to begin with.
I grin at him, unable to deny that I’m proud of the progress I’ve made.
Even if the invisible earth magic vines under my skin squeeze me tight for using as little magic as this.
According to the grimoire, I should be fine using my own energy for small magics. It’s the bigger spells that are better to cast using something truly connected to nature. Just like with blood magic, the only difference is that something from the earth will not always be readily available.
Lowering my hand back into my lap, I raise my teacup to my lips and take another sip before I ask, “How are things going on your side? Any luck?”
He told me about Andrei coming clean about the human trafficking, but we still don’t know how that ties into the rest of the story—if it does at all.
He shakes his head. “I’ve changed the spell, but I doubt it will make a difference. I might just have to put him out of his misery.”
“How benevolent,” I remark over the rim of my cup, wiggling my toes at him from under the blanket.
Malakai glares at me, and I throw him a sweet smile in response.
He has been sharing every detail of his progress, or lack thereof, bouncing ideas and theories off me. Despite not saying it outright, I can tell that trying to get to the bottom of it all is taking a toll on him.
This clear strain is why I’m not pestering Malakai about whatever he’s clearly holding back from me. No matter how much it annoys me—especially since he shares everything else with me—I trust that he’ll tell me in due time.
A few moments of silence pass before he abruptly changes the subject. “I have to go abroad for a few days to finalize the details for that new apartment complex I told you about.”
Raising my eyebrows at him in surprise, I open my mouth to complain, but he cuts me off with a glare.
I grumble something inaudible, taking another sip of tea.
He snatches the cup from my hand and, with a single, smooth movement, throws it into the fire.
The fragile porcelain shatters and is instantly swallowed by the magical flames, as my mouth drops open in both anger and irritation.
That was a perfectly fine cup, and worse, it wasn’t even empty yet.
He’s on top of me before I can protest, his hands next to my head, caging me in.
“You’re getting awfully comfortable around me, love.
Perhaps I need to make you bleed for me again.
After all”—Malakai’s voice drops to a growl—deep, dangerous, and doing unspeakable things to my insides—“it’s been a while. ”
Yes, it has been. I swallow as I see him pick up on the thought, making him grin. The way he looks at me sends a shiver down my spine, but I don’t avert my gaze. Not even when he grabs my throat and angles my head back over the side of the sofa.
“And you do bleed so prettily.” His tongue trails along my neck, and I gasp as he follows it down to my shoulders, then my collarbone.
“Then do it,” I gasp, my body writhing under him as he nips at my skin. “Make me bleed for you.”
His magic reaches out to me, touches me, scraping my flesh like razor-sharp claws.
It stings when it pierces my skin, yet not enough to make me bleed.
His hand squeezes my throat, slightly cutting off my air supply, but I’m not backing down.
His smile is deliciously evil and full of dark promise.
I lick my lips, my chest heaving as his magic traces down my body, agonizingly slow.
I hook my fingers on his belt and pull him closer against me until I feel his hard length press against my stomach.
“What are you waiting for?” I whisper, my smile equally dangerous.
My tongue darts out to lick the seam of his lips. Malakai groans and crashes his mouth onto mine, his hand at the back of my head, angling me as he pushes his tongue inside and gives me a deep, rough kiss.
“You’re too perfect for me, love,” he whispers breathily against me.
“You made me well,” I reply with a smile, my voice soft and airy as my eyes flutter shut.
He chuckles. “I sure did.”
He kisses my neck again, and I moan as his magic sharpens, finally drawing blood. He rolls his hips, grinding against me, and it’s almost enough to make me come undone right there.
But his magic, his touch, isn’t the only thing I feel against my skin. There’s something else—a featherlight brush that creeps up on me, slowly overtaking me. I flinch at its touch, my eyes flying open when I recognize it.
“No.” My hands are on Malakai’s chest, pushing him away.
He looks from my hands to my face, a snarl on his lips. “You don’t get to say no,” he bites, his fingers squeezing my throat harder.
“Back off,” I snarl, baring my teeth at him, my magic at the ready to make him get off. “We’re not alone.”
He simply laughs. “That’s impossible. The wards are impenetrable.”
“And I’m telling you”—I push against him, my magic now thrashing against his—“that someone is here.”
Malakai sizes me up slowly, trying to assess whether I’m telling the truth.
Meanwhile, I can’t understand how he can’t tell?
He eventually loosens his grip and gets up, his hand finding mine and not letting go.
A wave of black magic rolls off him, smoke spreading through the library and disappearing into the walls.
He side-eyes me as if he thinks I’m making it up, and I bristle in response.
Until suddenly, he stills. For a moment, it’s as if he’s frozen solid.
Anger flares in his eyes the next instant, and he lets out an almost animalistic snarl.
His magic rolls back, and he drops my hand while rising from the sofa.
“This should not be possible.” His voice is cold, deadly.
“It’s not the first time, either.”
His head snaps back to me with such force it startles me. “What? When?”
“A few nights after the family dinner.”
Malakai narrows his eyes at me. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I was half asleep and thought it had been my imagination,” I snap back, my posture turning rigid.
He looks at me for a long moment, decides he believes me, and steps away from the sofa. “Whoever it was, they’re already gone. But I’m checking and reinforcing the wards in case they return. Again.” Malakai glares at me, and I glare back, refusing to back down. “Get off your ass. I’m teaching you.”
I huff and get up as he heads to the hallway, to the front door.
“Wards are meant to keep any and all unwanted visitors out. They’re tailor-made and can be highly detailed.
These specific ones”—he gestures at the front door—“are set up to react to blood. Anyone who isn’t one of us or from our bloodline, or hasn’t been approved, will find it impossible to enter, no matter what they do. ”
“Then how do you invite someone in?”