Page 20

CHAPTER 20

B ella woke to the familiar weight of Malrik’s arm draped across her waist. Sunlight streamed through the windows, painting the stone walls with golden light. She shifted slightly, careful not to disturb him, and glanced down at the arm holding her close. Thick grey fur covered it once more, the sharp claws now fully extended in sleep.

It didn’t bother her. Not even a little.

She traced her fingers lightly over the fur, feeling the powerful muscles beneath. The contrast between his strength and the gentleness with which he held her made her heart swell.

I love him in any form , she thought, then froze as the realization hit her fully. Love. She loved him. This creature who was both beast and man, who had terrified her at first meeting and now made her feel safer than she’d ever felt before.

She loved his fierce protectiveness, his unexpected gentleness, the way he looked at her as though she were the most precious thing in his world. She even loved his gruff, demanding ways—how he’d growl orders at her one moment, then present her with flowers the next.

But as quickly as the happiness came, worry crept in to replace it.

What about her father? She’d expected him to return once he’d recovered, but there had been no sign of him. What if he was still sick? The wagon should have taken him straight to Agatha’s, but what if something had gone wrong? And even if he was fine, what would he do without her? They’d been a team since her mother died, just the two of them against the world.

She bit her lip, troubled by the conflict between her new love and her family responsibilities. She couldn’t take Malrik back to the village, even if he agreed to go. The villagers might be tentatively open to the idea of trading with the Vultor, but most of them still regarded them with suspicion at best, outright fear at worst. They would be even less tolerant of Malrik’s beast form.

Behind her, Malrik stirred. His arm tightened briefly around her waist before relaxing again. She felt him nuzzle into her hair, breathing deeply.

“Morning,” he rumbled, his voice rough with sleep but clearer than it had been in their early days together.

She rolled over to face him, forcing a smile. “Good morning.”

His eyes, glowing softly in the morning light, narrowed as he studied her face. The fur around his muzzle had receded slightly, revealing more of his Vultor features. It was a strange blend of both forms, but she found it oddly appealing.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from her face with surprising delicacy for such large claws.

She sighed, knowing there was no point in hiding her concerns. He could read her too well now.

“I’m still worried about my father,” she admitted. “I was sure he’d come back once he recovered, but he hasn’t. What if he’s really sick? Or what if the wagon malfunctioned and never made it to Agatha’s? Do you think we can send that message today?”

His face darkened immediately. A low growl rumbled in his chest, and his arm tightened around her possessively. The beast was clearly displeased at the thought of her concern for another, even her father.

But then, to her surprise, he sighed heavily. The growl faded, and his arm loosened its grip.

“You should… check on him instead,” he said reluctantly, each word sounding like it was physically painful to speak.

She blinked, surprised by his concession. “Really?”

He nodded once, sharply, his eyes averted. “He is your father.”

The simple statement held so much meaning. He was acknowledging her bond with her father, putting her needs above his instinctive desire to keep her isolated with him. It was perhaps the most selfless thing he’d done since she’d met him.

A sudden idea struck her. “What if we check on him? Together?”

His head snapped back toward her, his eyes widening. “We?”

“Yes,” she said, warming to the idea. “We could go to Agatha’s together. You know her, right? She seemed to know about you when I spoke with her before.”

He frowned, looking uncertain. “Agatha is… old memories. Not all good.”

“But she helped me find you,” she pointed out. “And I sent my father to her because I thought she would help him.” She reached up to touch his face, running her fingers along the edge where fur met skin. “I don’t want to leave you, Malrik. Not even for a day. But I need to know my father is all right.”

He leaned into her touch, his eyes half-closing. “Dangerous,” he muttered. “For me. For you, with me.”

“I’m not afraid,” she said firmly. “And I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

A rumbling sound that might have been a laugh escaped him. “You protect beast?”

“Yes,” she said without hesitation. “Just like you protect me.”

He studied her face for a long moment, as if searching for any sign of deception. Finding none, he sighed again.

“We go,” he finally agreed. “But careful. Quick. No village.”

Relief and gratitude washed over her. “Thank you,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his muzzle. “We’ll be careful, I promise. Just to Agatha’s and back.”

He nodded, then pulled her closer, burying his face in her neck and breathing deeply, as if trying to memorize her scent. She wrapped her arms around him, feeling the way his body shifted slightly beneath her touch—fur receding in some places, muscles changing shape.

“Should leave soon,” he murmured against her skin. “Before I change my mind.”

She smiled against his shoulder. “Let me get dressed and pack a few things.”

He reluctantly released her, and she slid from the bed, wincing at little as previously untried muscles protested. She did her best to hide it from him, afraid he would insist on putting off their trip. As she dressed, she glanced back to see him watching her with those intense yellow eyes, a mix of emotions playing across his features.

“You’re worried,” she observed, pulling her hair back and securing it with a strip of cloth.

“Humans fear beast,” he said simply. “Vultor… remember Malrik. Neither good.”

She crossed back to the bed and took his face between her hands, forcing him to look at her. “I don’t care what anyone else thinks. You’re mine, and I’m yours. That’s all that matters.”

Something fierce and possessive flashed in his eyes at her words. “Mine,” he agreed, his voice dropping to a growl.

“And I’m not ashamed of you,” she continued firmly. “Not of any part of you. Beast or Vultor or whatever’s in between. I?—”

She hesitated, almost afraid to say it out loud and he went very still. Before she could gather the courage, his arms were around her, pulling her against his chest with such force that it knocked the breath from her lungs.

“Bella,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “My Bella.”

She wasn’t sure if it was a declaration of love, but she felt it all the same—in the tremor that ran through his powerful body, in the careful way his claws avoided scratching her, in the way he pressed his face to her hair and breathed her name like a prayer.

When he finally released her, there was a new determination in his eyes. “We go,” he said firmly. “Find father. Then return home.”

Home . The word sent a wave of warmth through her. This crumbling keep with its broken tech and overgrown gardens had become home to her, in a way the village never had. Because he was here.

“I’ll pack some food,” she said, her practical nature reasserting itself. “And we should bring water. Do you know the way to Agatha’s from here?”

He nodded. “Through woods. Avoid main paths.”

“Good plan,” she agreed, heading toward the door. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen in a few minutes.”

She packed dried meat and fruit from the POTTS, filled water containers, and added the small medical kit she’d assembled from supplies found in the keep. Better to be prepared for anything.

When she returned to the kitchen, Malrik was waiting. He’d dressed in what remained of his clothes from the night before—the pants torn but wearable, the vest abandoned as unsalvageable. He’d found a cloak, which he’d draped over his shoulders, the hood pulled up to shadow his face.

“Ready?” she asked, shouldering her pack.

He nodded once, then moved to take the pack from her. “I carry.”

She relinquished it without argument, knowing it would make him feel better to help. “Lead the way.”

As they stepped outside into the bright morning light, she felt a strange mix of excitement and apprehension. This journey would be their first real test as a couple—facing the outside world together.

She glanced up at Malrik, noting the tension in his shoulders, the wary way he scanned their surroundings. Reaching out, she slipped her hand into his, feeling his claws carefully retract as his fingers closed around hers.

“Together,” she said softly.

He looked down at her, his yellow eyes glowing beneath the hood of his cloak. “Together,” he agreed.

And with that, they set off into the forest, leaving the safety of the keep behind.

He had suggested that they take the forest path rather than the road, preferring the concealment it offered, and she hadn’t objected. The path was narrow and winding, clearly not meant for regular travel. Malrik moved with silent grace despite his size, while she had to watch her footing on the uneven ground. He kept her close, occasionally lifting her over fallen logs or guiding her around thorny patches.

“How far is it to Agatha’s?” she asked after they’d been walking for about an hour.

“Half day,” he replied, his head constantly swiveling as he monitored their surroundings. “If no trouble.”

She squeezed his hand reassuringly. “We’ll be fine. And it’ll be worth it to know my father is okay.”

He glanced down at her, his expression softening slightly. “He is… good father?”

“The best,” she said without hesitation. “After my mother died, he raised me on his own. Taught me everything he knew about mechanics, never once told me I couldn’t do something because I was a girl.” She smiled at the memories. “He used to say that my mother would have been so proud of my clever hands.”

Malrik was quiet for a moment, absorbing this. “You miss him,” he finally said. It wasn’t a question.

“I do,” she admitted. “But that doesn’t mean I want to leave you. I just need to know he’s all right.”

He nodded, seeming to understand. “And after?”

“After we make sure he’s okay?” She thought for a moment. “I’d like to go back to the keep with you. It’s become home. But maybe we could visit my father sometimes? And perhaps he could visit us, once he’s fully recovered?”

He didn’t answer immediately, and she could almost see the conflict playing out behind his eyes—the beast’s territorial instincts warring with his growing Vultor rationality.

“Perhaps,” he finally said, which she took as a significant concession.

They continued in companionable silence as she admired the beauty of the forest. Despite growing up near these mountains, she’d rarely ventured this deep into the woods. Everything seemed more vibrant here—the greens deeper, the flowers brighter, the air fresher.

Suddenly, Malrik froze. His head snapped up, nostrils flaring as he scented the air. A low growl built in his chest.

“What is it?” she whispered, instantly alert.

“Others,” he growled. “Coming this way.”