Chapter Eight
Malichai
She Feels Me Now
The moment it happens, I nearly fall to my knees.
I’m in my office, at the top of the Veythronn building, going over territory dispute files from the North Borough clans, my mind on politics and blood, when it hits me.
The last sliver of the bond breaking free from beneath the spell. It doesn’t come in soft or slow. It erupts. Like lightning cracking through steel. Like fire igniting in a soul that didn’t know it was dry kindling until the blaze started.
My hands slam onto the desk. The wood groans beneath the force. My dragon surges beneath my skin, pushing to be set free, a guttural growl vibrating through my chest as a shudder rolls down my spine.
She feels me now. The way I have always felt her.
I thought I had control over the bond after bearing it for three years, but I was wrong.
Now it all slams into me at once. Her heartbeat.
Her confusion. The chaotic rush of need tangled in fear.
The wild spike of magic that flared when her eyes met mine across that alley last night amplified by a hundred.
She knows. Maybe not everything. Not yet. But she knows I’m not just a man who makes her nervous. She knows I’m the one who makes her burn.
My hands tremble.
I’ve waited three years for this, and I’ve never been more terrified.
Because this isn’t just a rush of instinct and hunger. This is the part where she starts putting the puzzle pieces together. The bond. The way I always seem to know what she needs before she says it. The timing. The silence. The lies I let her believe.
And when she finally uncovers the truth, about the spell, about what I asked Serephine to do, will she ever be able to forgive me?
What if she walks away? What if she refuses me and dragon?
The thought makes my stomach twist. My dragon snarls in rebellion.
She won’t. He denies my thoughts.
But she could. She has every right.
I run a hand through my hair and pace the edge of the room, cursing under my breath in every language I’ve learned in the last thousand years.
I should go to her. No, I should fucking run to her. But I can’t. Not like this. Not until I figure out how to tell her the truth without making her hate me.
A knock on the door drags me out of my spiral. My most trusted enforcer and my second in command, Tavian, steps in, sharp eyes taking in my frayed composure.
“She felt it, didn’t she?” he says.
Tavian has known about Ari since the beginning, helping me keep her safe and watch over her. The gargoyle shifter has long made his opinion known about my plan and how I should have claimed my mate regardless the moment I found her.
I nod once, not yet able to speak.
He whistles low. “About damn time.”
I glare. “Not now.”
“She’s stronger than you think, Mal,” he says, using the nickname only those closest to me are allowed. “You’re not giving her enough credit.”
“I’m giving her space.”
“Which she won’t need if you wait too long and Ravik finds her first.”
My jaw tightens. “Is he making moves?”
“Not directly. But his people are sniffing around the East Side. Close enough to send a message.”
I swear viciously. “She’s not ready for that,” I grind out. “She’s barely grasping the truth about us. She can’t handle a war.”
“Then maybe it’s time you stop letting your guilt run the show and start protecting what’s yours.”
He’s not wrong. I know Ravik. I know how he plays. He’ll go for what’s vulnerable. What’s unclaimed. And until Ari accepts me, fully accepts me, he’ll see her as fair game.
And that I won’t allow. Ever.
“I need to go to her,” I mumble, trying to gather my senses.
“To do what, Mal?” he asks, pushing me to tell him everything.
“It’s time to tell Ari the truth.”
Tavian smirks. “And are you planning to do that before or after she throws something at your head?”
“Probably during.”
****
It takes me thirty minutes to reach her apartment with the afternoon traffic.
I don’t knock but I don’t need to. I can feel her behind the door.
Her energy is sharper now. Brighter. Her magic hums with the same note mine does, like two chords finally being played in harmony. It’s not a storm anymore. It’s a song. Unfamiliar, raw, but entirely ours.
She opens the door before I raise my hand.
And gods help me ... she’s radiant.
Her hair is a wild mess of bright pink and lavender, half up in a lazy twist. She’s in one of those oversized sweaters that hang off one shoulder, baring just enough skin to make me hungry. But it’s her eyes that stop me cold.
One green. One blue. And both lit from within with magic and anger. She knows.
She says nothing at first and neither do I.
Then she whispers, “What the hell did you do to me?”
I step around her into the apartment and close the door.
“No lies,” I say quietly. “Not anymore.”
She crosses her arms. “Then start talking.”
I take a deep breath. “I felt the mate bond the moment I saw you. Three years ago. I didn’t even know your name, but my soul recognized you. My dragon recognized you.”
She flinches but doesn’t interrupt, she just listens.
I continue, my voice tight. “My father wouldn’t have allowed me to claim you. He would have seen you as impure. That your blood was tainted by your human side. He would have killed you.”
Her breath hitches, but still, she stays silent. I see understanding dawn and know she finally understands what I meant when I said my father wasn’t a good man.
“I made a choice.” I swallow hard. “I asked a friend, a witch, to suppress the bond. On your side. So you wouldn’t feel it. So you’d be safe.”
Ari goes still. I see the moment the weight of it hits her.
“You chose that for me?” she demands, her voice sharp. “You decided I didn’t get to feel it?”
“I did it to protect you.” The words sound weak even to my ears, but it is true.
“Bullshit.” Her hands tremble. “You did it because it was easier. Because it lets you stay close without having to deal with the consequences. You took my choice. You manipulated me.”
“I did.” I nod. “And I regret it every fucking day.”
Tears brim in her eyes, but they don’t fall.
“I hate you,” she whispers.
But her voice breaks. And I feel the bond flare. She doesn’t mean it. Not completely.
I step closer, slow, careful, every nerve in my body alive with fear.
“I know I don’t deserve forgiveness, and I won’t ask for it,” I say. “But I need you to know this, Ari. I have felt our mate bond every day. I have lived three years without my mate, in pain, in longing. But if I had to do it again, knowing you are safe? I wouldn’t hesitate.”
She stares at me, breath shuddering.
She slaps me, hard. My head jerks to the side. The sting blooms across my cheek. But I take it. I welcome it. Because it means she’s still here. Because it means she feels something even if it’s only anger at the moment.
When I turn back, her eyes are wild. Confused. Furious. And underneath it all, burning like a fuse, desire.