Page 14

CHAPTER 14

B ella stepped back from the small cleaning robot, wiping her hands on her coveralls and admiring her handiwork as the little machine whirred to life, its sensors blinking as it oriented itself to the dusty room. It wasn’t much—just a basic maintenance unit she’d cobbled together from parts she’d found in a storage closet—but it was a start.

“Come on, little guy,” she encouraged as it made its first tentative movements across the floor, leaving a clean path in its wake. “That’s it.”

It wasn’t much—just one small robot tackling a fortress-sized cleaning job—but it represented days of work, and she couldn’t help feeling a surge of pride. The keep was slowly coming back to life, one system at a time. First the POTTS, then some of the lighting in the main areas, and now this little worker.

“One down, about twenty more to go,” she murmured to herself.

The thought of how long it would take to clean the entire fortress with just this little helper made her laugh.

“Malrik!” she called out, knowing he was nearby. He always was. “Come see what I made!”

It had been four days since their conversation in the kitchen. Four days of working side by side, of careful touches and heated glances, of sleeping wrapped in his arms each night. Four days of watching his features shift between beast and Vultor, never quite settling into either form completely.

A shadow darkened the doorway, and she turned to find Malrik watching her. His eyes glowed softly in the dim light, his massive form filling the frame. He’d been in his beast form when she woke this morning, though she’d caught glimpses of his Vultor features throughout the day—moments when his fur receded, when his face became more defined, when words came more easily.

“Look,” she said, gesturing to the robot busily cleaning the floor. “I got it working.”

He stepped into the room, moving with that strange grace that still surprised her. For someone so large, he could be remarkably silent when he chose. He crouched beside the robot, studying it with an intensity that made her smile. Everything he did, he did with his whole being.

He watched the machine’s methodical movements, his glowing yellow eyes tracking its path across the floor. After a moment, he nodded his approval.

“It cleans,” he said, his voice a low rumble that sent a pleasant shiver down her spine.

“It does,” she agreed. “Not fast, but it’s better than nothing. I found some parts for more, but they’ll take time.”

“Come,” he ordered, his voice rough but clear. He gestured toward the corridor with one clawed hand.

She smiled, long past being bothered by his brusque commands. She’d quickly learned that while he might be bossy, he never forced her to do anything she didn’t want to do. She could do whatever she pleased—as long as she stayed with him.

“Where are we going?” she asked, joining him.

“Show you something.” His words were clipped, but she’d learned that wasn’t from anger or impatience—it was simply difficult for him to speak when the beast was close to the surface.

“All right.”

As she reached his side, she deliberately placed her hand on his arm. She’d been initiating these casual touches more frequently, determined to understand the connection between them and the effect she seemed to have on his transformations.

His muscles tensed beneath her touch, as they always did initially. She’d been deliberately increasing these casual contacts, trying to get him accustomed to her touch. After that first moment of tension, he relaxed and shifted, pulling her closer to his side with one powerful arm. Also predictable.

These little rituals had become familiar over the past few days. She could touch him, talk to him, work alongside him—but any hint that she might try to leave sent the beast surging forward. She had freedom within the keep, but only as long as she stayed with him.

Strangely, she didn’t mind as much as she probably should have. There was something comforting about his constant presence, his unwavering attention. No one had ever focused on her so completely before.

He led her through corridors that were marginally cleaner than they had been when she arrived. She’d managed to get some of the lighting working in the main areas, casting a soft glow over the cold stone and metal. They passed through the ballroom, now clean and empty.

“You’ve been busy,” she observed, noting the swept floors and the absence of cobwebs in the corners.

He made a noncommittal sound, but she caught the hint of pride in his posture. He’d made himself useful during the hours she spent working on the tech systems—hauling away shattered tables and chairs, sweeping up the remnants of what must have once been magnificent crystal chandeliers.

They stepped through tall glass doors at the far end of the room and out onto a wide stone terrace. The afternoon sun bathed everything in golden light, and she blinked as her eyes adjusted, then gasped softly. The terrace overlooked what must have once been a formal garden. Most of it remained wild and overgrown, tangles of vines and shrubs competing for space, but she could see areas where Malrik had clearly been working—patches where weeds had been pulled, where stone paths had been uncovered, where flowering plants had been freed from choking vines.

“You did this?” she asked, moving to the edge of the terrace. “It’s beautiful.”

Malrik followed, his massive body oddly graceful as he moved to stand beside her, watching her reaction with an intensity that made her skin tingle.

“Flowers,” he said gruffly. “You like.”

She had mentioned it, offhandedly, a few days ago while they were eating. She’d been chattering about her childhood, about the little garden her mother had kept before she died, about how the village where she and her father lived now had little space for ornamental plants.

He’d remembered. Not only remembered, but acted on it.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “Can we go down?”

He nodded, offering his arm with unexpected formality. She took it, allowing him to guide her down the wide stone steps to the garden below.

The garden smelled of rich earth and green growing things. Up close, she could see how much work he’d done. He’d cleared away years of overgrowth to reveal a formal pattern of beds and walkways. The paths were still cracked in places, with weeds sprouting between stones, but they were passable. The flower beds closest to the keep were filled with a riot of colors she wouldn’t have expected to find in this harsh mountain climate. Their scents mingled in the air, sweet and spicy and earthy.

“How do they survive up here?” she asked him as she bent to examine a cluster of vibrant pink flowers.

“Special varieties,” he said, the words seeming to come more easily than usual. “Bred for mountain climate. Self-sustaining.”

“It must have been magnificent when it was properly tended,” she said, trying to imagine the garden in its prime.

He nodded, his eyes distant. “It was… a point of pride. For me. Before.”

Before the curse. Before he became trapped in his beast form. The pieces were starting to fit together—the grandeur of the keep, his possessiveness of it, the way he moved through it with familiarity despite its state of disrepair.

She wandered along the path, admiring his work. In one bed, tall spikes of blue flowers swayed in the gentle breeze. Their color reminded her of the summer sky, intense and vibrant against the weathered stone of the keep.

“These are beautiful,” she said, bending to examine them more closely.

He stepped forward, his movements deliberate and careful, and reached out with one massive hand—his claws partially retracted—and delicately plucked one of the blue blossoms from its stem.

Then, to her surprise, he executed a formal bow, extending the flower to her with a flourish that seemed to belong to another time, another life.

The gesture was so unexpected, so at odds with his fearsome appearance, that she felt her heart constrict in her chest. This was Malrik—the real Malrik—shining through.

She accepted the flower with a smile, bringing it to her nose to inhale its subtle fragrance. When she looked up, he was watching her, his eyes glowing with an emotion she was beginning to recognize.

Without thinking, she rose on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. She meant it as a simple thank you, but the moment their lips touched, something shifted between them.

His arms came around her, gentle despite their strength, and he deepened the kiss. His mouth was warm against hers, the slight pressure of his fangs adding an edge of danger that only heightened the sensation.

She wound her arms around his neck, the blue flower still clutched in her fingers as she pressed herself closer to him. His fur was soft against her skin, his body radiating heat that seemed to seep into her very bones.

When they finally broke apart, she was breathless. Malrik’s eyes glowed more intensely than she’d ever seen, and patches of slate-grey skin had appeared on his face and neck where the fur had receded.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice unsteady. “For the garden. For the flower. For everything.”

He nodded, one clawed hand coming up to touch her cheek with exquisite gentleness. “Mine,” he said, the word both possessive and questioning.

“Yes,” she agreed, surprising herself with how right it felt to say it. “Yours.”

His arms tightened around her briefly before he released her, stepping back to give her space. But his eyes never left her face, tracking her movements as she tucked the blue flower behind her ear.

“Show me the rest,” she said, gesturing to the garden. “I want to see everything you’ve done.”

As they walked the paths together, her hand once again found its way to his arm. This time, there was no tension when she touched him—only a sense of rightness, of belonging, that made her wonder how she’d ever lived without this connection.

The sun warmed her shoulders as they explored the reclaimed garden, and for the first time since she’d arrived at the keep, she didn’t think about her father or the village or the bargain that had brought her here. She thought only of the present moment—of blue flowers and stone pathways, of gentle hands and glowing eyes, of a connection that seemed to grow stronger with each passing day.

She didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but today, in this garden with Malrik, she was exactly where she wanted to be. Whatever happened next—whether they broke his curse or not—she was no longer simply fulfilling an obligation. She was discovering something new, something unexpected.

Something that felt remarkably like the beginning of love.

When they paused at the far end of the garden and she looked up to find him watching her, it seemed completely natural to reach for him, to pull his head down and lose herself in the pleasure of his kiss.