Page 23 of Avidian (The Demon and the Savior #1)

Chapter Thirteen

I wake up with my head pressed against Malachi’s chest, my arm and leg both draped over his warm, solid body.

Oh God, I’m practically bear-hugging him.

I freeze, trying to keep my breathing steady as I feel his chest rise and fall in the slow rhythm of sleep.

I need to get out of this without waking him.

Carefully, I lift my head, only to notice something worse—there’s a tiny drool spot on his shirt.

Oh my God.

I must have been in a deep sleep to drool on him. This is beyond embarrassing.

I pull my arm back and start to lift my leg, glancing up at his face to make sure his eyes are still closed.

“Restful night?”

His voice catches me mid-sneak, and I snap my gaze up to find him already watching me, his eyes bright with amusement. He’s clearly been awake for a while.

I shove him away, sitting up and running a hand down my face in an attempt to gather some dignity. “Shut up.”

He chuckles, still lounging like he owns the world. “I was enjoying all the cute little sounds you were making in your sleep.”

I turn to glare at him, my side-eye sharp enough to cut. “I hope you’re joking.”

“Not at all. Adorable, really.” He grins, and it’s infuriating how good he looks first thing in the morning.

I throw the covers back and get to my feet, ignoring the warmth creeping up my neck. Stretching my arms above my head, I let out a long exhale and mutter, “You’re impossible.”

“And yet here I am, your favorite bedmate,” he teases, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and smirking like he’s won something.

“Yeah, don’t get used to it,” I say, crossing my arms and glancing toward the window. “Did you hear anything last night after I fell asleep? When do you think Marco will come for me?” All I want is to brush my teeth, shower, and get back to my room.

“I haven’t heard a damn thing,” he says, stretching like he has all the time in the world.

“But that’s not surprising— I told you, most of these rooms are practically soundproof.

It’s already 7 a.m., so I imagine my father will be coming to retrieve his precious demon pet soon.

Don’t look too excited to get away from me.

” His sarcasm is as sharp as ever, and I roll my eyes in response.

“I’m not excited to get away from you, and I’m definitely not excited to see Marco,” I shoot back, turning toward the bathroom. “I want to know we’re in the clear after last night and that know no one saw us or suspects anything.”

I step into the bathroom and splash cold water on my face, hoping it will wake me up—or at least wash away the unease gnawing at the edges of my mind.

“I know Marco said we were both to stay in here, but I want to shower and change into my clothes. Can’t I go to my room, and you can keep watch or whatever?

” I step out of the bathroom, catching sight of Malachi mid-dressing.

He’s already pulled on a pair of jeans, and my eyes betray me, catching on the dip of his waist and the muscles along his bare chest and arms. Damn it.

I clear my throat and quickly turn toward the window, focusing on the snow-covered trees outside. Neutral. Innocent.

“Why don’t you get in the shower, and I’ll go grab whatever you need from your room?” he says, buttoning up his shirt, his tone annoyingly practical. “No one’s going to come looking for you in here, and the last thing I want to do is piss off my father this morning by not following orders.”

I hesitate, glancing back briefly before looking away again. “Fine. I have a small bag on the bathroom sink with all my toiletries in it—grab that. And I still haven’t unpacked one of my suitcases. It’s on the left side of the closet. Bring the whole thing so I can go through it myself.”

He smirks faintly as he adjusts his cuffs. “You don’t trust me to pick out your clothes? I’m hurt.”

“I don’t trust you to pick out anything without some kind of ulterior motive,” I shoot back, crossing my arms and keeping my gaze out the window. “Bring the suitcase and the bag. That’s it.”

“Got it,” he says, and I hear the faint sound of him slipping on his shoes.

I stay fixed on the snowy expanse outside as the door clicks shut behind him, letting out a slow breath.

Malachi still hasn’t returned, which feels odd. And now here I am, alone with Marco, who was already waiting when I stepped out of the shower. He says the last thing I expected to hear.

“What do you mean you’re sending me away?” I ask in surprise.

I bite down on the inside of my cheek immediately, trying to temper the edge in my tone. The last thing I want right now is to push his mood further into the red. He’s already tense, and I’ve seen what happens when he’s not in control.

I can’t help feeling frustrated. I was starting to—maybe, barely, reluctantly—enjoy Malachi’s company.

Now Marco wants to send me away? This will ruin everything.

Our plans, the mission to save more Avids, my slim chance at freedom.

..all of it. I knew better than to let hope creep in, but it still stings.

“I mean,” I try again, softening my voice, “I haven’t finished the case yet. I want to help you.”

Marco’s furrowed brows relax slightly, and he takes the chair across from the fireplace in Malachi’s room.

His usual calculating gaze is heavier today, more serious, and it puts me on edge.

I grip the towel wrapped around me, tucking it tighter for security before hesitantly sitting in the chair next to him.

“Something happened last night, Katja,” Marco says, crossing an ankle over his knee. “And there’s more going on here than the case with Damien.”

I keep my expression neutral, but my mind is racing. Damn right a lot of things happened last night.

“What happened?” I venture cautiously, my demeanor careful, respectful. Normally, I don’t ask Marco questions—I respond, act, obey. This feels like a dangerous line to cross, but I have to know.

Marco studies me, the firelight illuminating his face in the dimly lit room.“Avids went missing from Viktor’s property last night. He’s furious, as you can imagine. And I suspect there’s more going on here. They didn’t just escape—it would have been impossible.”

He rubs his chin, his eyes narrowing like he’s sifting through possibilities. I stay quiet, trying not to betray the rapid pounding of my heart.

“I don’t feel comfortable keeping you here when one of our rivals—or Viktor’s enemies—could be murdering or stealing Avids.”

Internally, I sigh with relief. He doesn’t suspect us.

“I don’t fully trust my brother,” Marco continues. “And I especially don’t like this situation. But I’m not ready to go home yet. I have unfinished business here. You, however...”

His piercing gaze lands on me, and I sit perfectly still. I don’t want him to send me home, but I can’t risk protesting any more than I already have.

“You have to understand,” Marco says, leaning closer, “I care for you, Katja.”

His hand lands on my knee, and I instinctively stiffen. This is an unusual side of Marco—softer, almost sincere. It has me holding my breath.

“You are my most prized possession,” he says tenderly. His hand moves from my knee to cup my chin, tilting my face toward him.

I force a wan smile, swallowing down the urge to roll my eyes. Yep. You only want to send away your precious pet to keep her from being stolen.

“Do you trust me to keep you safe?” Marco asks, his eyes boring into mine like he’s daring me to say otherwise.

I nod and lie through my teeth. “Of course, Marco.”

“Very good.” Marco drops my chin, his hand retreating as if the moment of closeness never happened. I glance down at my lap, avoiding his gaze.

“I want you to continue the case,” he says, his tone shifting back to its usual authority. “You and I both know you have enough of a connection now to work on this from a distance. I still expect you to solve this, and Viktor will want results.”

He’s right. I don’t need to stay here to contact Damien or Carmen. The connection is already forged.

“Will I be returning home today then? Should I pack?” I ask, trying to keep my voice even.

“You won’t be returning home,” Marco says, and my head snaps up before I catch myself, quickly glancing toward the fire to cover the slip.

If not home, then where? The question buzzes in my mind like a warning. But I keep my expression neutral, my curiosity masked.

“Your things are being packed for you as we speak. I’ll see you in a few weeks,” Marco says, rising from his seat with a finality that leaves no room for argument.

My mouth almost drops open—a few weeks. This is so out of character for him.

Something else is going on, something I’m not privy to, and I want to know what it is.

“And Katja,” he adds, pausing at the door, his sharp gaze slicing into me, “don’t disappoint me. I expect you to deliver the next time we meet.”

The weight of the threat presses on me. Solve the case by then or face the consequences—Marco’s way of ensuring obedience without saying too much.

“I understand,” I manage to say, though my insides twist at the thought of dealing with Damien and whatever games he has in store.

He nods once and strides out, the door clicking shut behind him.

No further explanation, no reassurance—only expectations.

And now I’m left to wonder where I’ll be sent and how I’ll manage to untangle this mess before time runs out.

I’m going to have to project. It’s the only way to get to the bottom of this.

Contacting the spirits on their playing field is the only move I have left.

“How are you not ready yet?” Malachi asks as he hauls my luggage into the room, his eyes scanning me where I still sit in front of the fire, wrapped in a towel with my wet hair dripping down my back.

“Hello, you have all my stuff,” I retort, throwing up my arms. “I’m not using that ridiculous excuse for a comb again.” I hurry over, opening one of my bags on the bed.

“I see you packed everything. That must mean you spoke with Marco,” I say, digging through the bag for clothes and a toothbrush.

“He came to you already?” Malachi asks, crossing the room to grab a duffle bag from the closet. He starts tossing his things into it with no real care or organization.

“What are you doing?” I ask, stepping into the bathroom to brush my teeth.

“I’m getting ready to go,” he replies simply.

I peek my head out of the bathroom, toothbrush in hand. “He’s sending you away too?”

A devious smile spreads across his face. “Oh no, little demon. He’s sending me to take care of you,” he says.

I spit out my toothpaste, glancing at him in the mirror. “Creep,” I say, laughing as I wipe my mouth and start working a brush through my hair.

“So where are you taking me? What security is coming with us? And what does this mean for your mission? How are you going to figure out what’s going on here—Viktor’s operation and all—if Marco’s shipping you off to babysit me?” I ask.

Malachi leans against the closet doorframe, arms crossed, clearly amused by my rapid-fire questioning. “Aren’t you full of curiosity this morning?” he says, grinning. “Don’t worry. I’ve got a plan. But I’ll let you sweat it out a little longer before I tell you.”

“Malachi,” I warn, giving him my best glare.

“Relax,” he says, grabbing his duffle and tossing it onto the bed next to my open suitcase. “All you need to know is you’re stuck with me for the foreseeable future. Now hurry up. We leave in fifteen. Meet me at the front door when you’re ready.”

I dry my hair as fast as I can. There’s no way I’m stepping out into the snow with wet hair.

I’m already poorly acclimated to the cold as it is.

Once it’s mostly dry, I pull on the black pants and blue sweater I’d set aside.

It’s not my best outfit, but it’s warm, and that’s all I care about right now.

Malachi must have taken all the luggage while I was getting ready—probably loading up one of the cars. At least he’s making himself useful. I glance in the mirror, swipe on some chapstick, and toss my hair behind my shoulders before heading out into the hallway.

I take one last look around the mansion. I’m not going to miss this place, with all its dark secrets and suffocating rules. But the snow, the trees, and the quiet beauty of the grounds? Those, I might actually miss.

I round the corner and suddenly find myself shoved hard against the wall. Orin’s hand is pressed to my shoulder, pinning me in place. His face is so close I can feel his thick beard scratching on my cheek.

“Don’t think I’m not on to you, pet,” he growls.

I turn my head away, pressing my cheek against the cool surface of the wall to avoid his glare. “What are you talking about?” I say evenly, though my heart pounds in my chest. I try to shove him off, but he doesn’t budge.

“You may have my father fooled, but not me. I know you’re up to no good. Mysteriously disappearing last night? I’ll get to the bottom of it,” he sneers, his grip tightening momentarily before he lets go and steps back. “And when I do? It’s right back into that not-so-pretty cage for you.”

He storms off down the hall, and I let out a shaky exhale.

Fucking asshole.

He’s bluffing. He doesn’t know anything but hates me enough to want to keep me looking over my shoulder. Still, I can’t shake the uneasy feeling that lingers in his wake.

By the time I reach the entry hall, Malachi and Banks are waiting for me. I plaster on a smile for Banks, who as always remains stoic and unreadable. Malachi catches the smile and looks between us with a curious expression.

Banks, ever the professional, opens the door for us and then heads to the driver’s seat of the car.

No security detail. Malachi climbs into the front seat, and I slide into the back.

As we drive away, I watch through the window as the mansion disappears behind the trees. The farther we go, the lighter I feel.

At the airstrip, Banks and Malachi load up one of Marco’s small planes. Banks is careful to avoid looking directly at me as usual. “If that will be all, then safe flight,” Banks says curtly before stepping back from the plane.

Malachi waves him off. “Take care, Banks.”

We board the plane, and after a few quick words exchanged between Malachi and the pilot, we’re in the air.

Malachi reclines in his seat next to me, arms crossed as he glances over with an amused expression. “So what was that back there with Banks?”

I shake my head, laughing lightly. “Banks isn’t so bad. I think he finds me creepy.”

Malachi lets out a loud laugh. “Who doesn’t?”

I punch him in the arm, but a small smile tugs at my lips despite myself.

I’m ready for some answers about where the hell we’re going.