Page 36 of Avidian (The Demon and the Savior #1)

Malachi’s smile turns softer, more genuine. “Anytime, demon. But don’t thank me yet. We still have to go ice skating.”

“Ice skating,” I repeat, raising an eyebrow. “So you’re saying you want me to break my neck tonight too?” I joke, though I’ve never actually tried any kind of skating before.

Malachi grins, that infuriatingly charming half-smile that somehow always gets me to go along with his plans. “I won’t let you get hurt.”

The way he says it, so confident and easy, makes it impossible to argue. I roll my eyes but follow him willingly, my nerves already tangling with a mix of excitement and apprehension.

It’s not as hard as I thought it would be, but I have a death grip on Malachi’s arm the entire time, clinging to him like my life depends on it. Every now and then, he glances down at me with a teasing look on his face, but he doesn’t say anything. He steadies me, his hand warm and secure on mine.

The skating trail is breathtaking. It’s not some big circular rink like I imagined.

Instead, it weaves through a cluster of lonely trees and is lined with holiday decorations that glow against the dark night.

There’s a snowman made entirely of Christmas lights, its bulbous form cheerfully flickering, and a sleigh with fake, lit-up reindeer poised as if ready to take off into the starry sky.

It reminds me of being a kid, of those rare, magical winters when my parents would string lights around the house and hang stockings by the fireplace. A pang of nostalgia hits me hard, mingled with the ache of loss. I haven’t celebrated Christmas—or any holiday, really—since they died.

Marco’s family throws extravagant holiday parties, but they’re nothing like what I remember. They’re cold and impersonal, and thankfully I’m usually not invited.

“Are you okay?” Malachi’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts. He slows his stride, steadying us both as I wobble slightly.

“Yeah,” I say, forcing a smile. “This is really nice.”

He squeezes my hand lightly and guides me along the glowing path.

The skates slip out from under me without warning, and before I even have time to yelp, Malachi’s hands are on me.

He reacts so fast it’s like he was waiting for this to happen, catching me before I hit the ice.

But instead of keeping us both upright, he lets himself fall, landing on his back with a soft grunt—me sprawled right on top of him.

I blink down at him, my heart racing from the near-disaster. His face is inches from mine, and he’s laughing, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Hey!” I shove at his chest, which doesn’t budge because he’s basically made of stone. “You let me fall!”

He chuckles harder, his deep voice rumbling under me. “I never said I wouldn’t let you fall,” he says, one hand still steady on my waist. “I said I wouldn’t let you get hurt.”

I narrow my eyes at him, my mouth twitching with the threat of a smile I don’t want to give him. “That’s semantics.”

“That’s survival,” he counters, his smile widening. “And clearly I’m very good at it. You’re not hurt, are you?”

“No, but I might hurt you if you keep laughing,” I mutter, but I can’t keep the heat out of my cheeks or the laugh that escapes me despite myself.

He props himself up on his elbows slightly, forcing me to shift so we’re even closer. “You’re cute when you’re mad,” he teases.

“You’re impossible,” I shoot back but don’t move away. Instead, I find myself lingering there for a moment too long, caught in the warmth of him and the way he’s looking at me like I’m the only thing that matters.

The cold ice beneath us is a stark contrast to the heat building between us, and as much as I want to make some sarcastic retort, I...don’t. Instead, I bite my lip, the tiniest of smiles creeping onto my face as I finally push myself up, standing on wobbly legs.

“Come on,” I say, holding out a hand to help him up. “Let’s get more of that hot chocolate before we freeze to death.”

We make it back home, and Malachi heads straight for the fireplace, stacking logs and coaxing a fresh fire to life. The crackling warmth fills the room, and I can’t help but plop down on the big, fluffy rug right in front of it, kicking off my boots and pulling my beanie from my hair.

“Tonight might have been one of the best nights I’ve ever had,” I admit, stretching my legs out toward the fire’s glow.

Malachi sits down beside me, the light casting shadows over his sharp features. “Me too.”

I scoff, shaking my head with a laugh. “Malachi Volkov, rich and charming. I’m sure you’ve had countless nights far better than this one.”

But he doesn’t laugh. Instead, he leans in, brushing his fingers through my hair, tucking the loose strands behind my ear. His touch is so gentle it steals the air from my lungs.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, his dark-brown eyes locking with mine, “but the company is what made tonight so great.”

I smile, feeling strangely shy even though I don’t know why. “Tell me what you were like as a child,” I ask, changing the subject. I can only imagine how awful it must have been growing up with Orin as a brother.

Malachi tilts his head back, thinking for a moment before answering.

“Hmm, I guess I was a bit of a dick,” he admits, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

“But Aunt Irina whipped me into shape. My father would say she made me soft, but I think that’s because I don’t have the stomach for the things my brothers do. ”

He stretches out beside me, and I can’t help but smile at the idea of a young Malachi—mischievous but with a good heart, already resisting the darkness of his family. “If I stay here, would you want me to join Solace? Be on your team?” I ask, watching his face closely.

His expression shifts, and he looks away toward the fire, the flames flickering in his eyes. “It’s dangerous,” he says. “I wouldn’t stop you if it’s what you wanted, but I don’t want to see you get hurt either.”

I lean my head on his shoulder, letting the warmth of the fire and his presence soothe me. “It can’t be any more dangerous than what my life has been until now,” I point out.

He doesn’t answer right away but moves his arm, draping it around me and pulling me closer to his side. The weight of it feels grounding, protective in a way I’m not used to.

“You’re nothing like what I expected, you know,” he says.

I glance up at him. “What do you mean?”

He looks down at me, his gaze steady but thoughtful. “I don’t know. The way my father spoke about you, I thought you would be…different.”

I turn to face him fully, raising a brow. “Different how?”

His lips twitch into a small smile. “Colder, maybe. Hardened by everything you’ve been through. But you’re not. You’re strong, but you’re also warm. Kind.”

I can see how serious he is. “You’re not what I expected either,” I finally say.

“Good unexpected or bad unexpected?” he asks, the teasing lilt back.

I laugh softly, shaking my head. “Good,” I whisper, steeling a glance back at him.

“Have you ever been in love?” The question escapes before I can stop myself.

Malachi’s brows knit together as he leans back, his fingers absently running along the seam of the couch. “I don’t think so,” he finally says, his gaze fixed on the fire. “I’ve been in relationships, cared for people, but love? I wouldn’t go that far.”

I tug my knees up, wrapping my arms around them as I try to shake the surprised feeling.

“What about you?” He shifts slightly, angling himself toward me. A faint smirk curves his lips, softening the weight of his question. “Has the clever demon ever been in love?”

I laugh quietly, running a hand through my hair to buy myself a second to answer. “Once,” I admit.

He tilts his head, his interest sparking. “Really?”

“Really.”

His gaze sharpens, studying me like he’s trying to peel back my layers. “I’m surprised,” he says. “Given?—”

“Given that I’ve been in captivity for eight years,” I cut him off, smirking slightly to hide the sting behind it. “You can say it. It’s true.”

Malachi exhales softly, his hand dragging over his jaw. “So who was he?” He hesitates then adds, “Where is he now?”

I toy with a loose thread on my sleeve, the action grounding me as I search for the right thing to say. “He’s dead.” I keep my tone light even though the truth weighs heavy. “So don’t worry—you don’t have any competition.”

The joke doesn’t land as easily as I’d hoped. Malachi’s shoulders tense. “What happened?”

I lean forward, resting my arms on my knees. “He was in the car,” I say, letting the words settle between us, “the day of the accident I told you about. We were kids, but he was my best friend growing up—until one day, he was more than that. I’ll always love him in some way, but he’s gone.”

The room feels impossibly still. The fire crackles, its warmth contrasting the ache in my chest. Malachi doesn’t look away, his eyes darker now, unreadable.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and the way he says it feels different—like he’s not sorry for my loss but sorry for everything I’ve endured.

I nod, pressing my lips together and looking away. “Me too.”

We sit there in the glow of the fire, the unspoken weight of the conversation wrapping around us. His hand shifts closer to mine, resting on the rug between us, as if offering comfort without saying a word.

“Can I ask you an...uncomfortable question?” Malachi leans forward slightly, his hands fidgeting in his lap.

I cringe, uneasy about what he might ask. “You can ask me anything, but I don’t guarantee an answer,” I say, trying to keep the mood light.

He pauses, his jaw shifting like he’s trying to figure out the right way to phrase it.

“How have you never been with a man?” he says cautiously.

“I mean, you were in love...you were young, but not too young. Teenagers have sex all the time. And then, after everything—” He takes a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling.

“I can’t imagine what things were like for you once you were taken. ”