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18

MALACHI

C andlelight splashed against the raised paneling of my chamber, throwing long, jagged shadows that danced like specters. Outside, a summer storm howled through the turrets of the castle, a ceaseless wail that matched the restless storm inside my head.

Fingers steepled beneath my chin, eyes fixed on the flames before me, my mind traced every possible path, every route I could take to keep Evangeline safe. Which was a fool’s errand.

Hiding her was pointless. Ravok would see. He always saw. The future was his to toy with, to weave into a noose he’d tighten around our necks. And without control over her magic, Evangeline could not stand against him.

Not yet.

She would be strong one day, but training her— gods above and below —training her would take years. Decades, maybe. Time we did not have.

I pressed my fingers against my temples and exhaled slowly. There had to be another way. Some loophole in the web Ravok had spun around us both. Some hidden road he had not foreseen.

But no matter how many times I ran through the possibilities, the answer was always the same: there is no path where she survives this unscathed.

No scenario where she did not face him alone, magic to magic. My hands curled into fists. The very idea of her getting that close to Ravok was unbearable.

Because this was Evangeline.

I had been damned long before I ever laid eyes on her, but the moment I did, I knew damnation had a new name. It wasn’t the iron chains of my Maker, or the blood debt I could never repay, or even the monstrous existence I had carved out for myself in this soulless species.

No, my curse was her.

I’d heard that prophecy with my own ears, had replayed the words a thousand times over and yes, up until the first time I’d seen Evangeline at Tyrell’s auction, I’d never even once entertained the idea the prophecy might pertain…to me.

“When silver wood rises and angels…”

Ever since the moment that prophecy was first spoken into the world, ever since the fates of Ravok and the Bloodmoon Coven and Caine and even myself had been bound together, it was a known fact that prophecy pertained to Caine alone.

Until Ravok decided the words somehow applied to him and his perverse version of the future.

And here I was, making the same mistake, grasping at the illusion of greatness like a dying man grasped at life.

But the way she walked into my world, fierce and stubborn, spine steel-straight even when she should have been afraid. The way she looked at me—not with fear, but with challenge, as if daring me to be more than the wreck I was. The way she spoke my name when I was dying, like I wasn’t some ruined creature unworthy of her presence.

I’d convinced myself she was mine, yet I had no business loving her.

But I did.

I had loved Evangeline since before she was even born.

But the first moment I’d seen her was like being struck by a bolt of lightning, and I’d been running from the truth ever since. Love was a foolish, hopeless thing. Evangeline would never belong to me. I did not deserve anyone as good as her. She was light, and I was shadow. She was warmth, and I was cold, dead ruin.

But gods help me, I would tear this world apart to keep her safe.

I’d given my word once before, the only other heart-oath I’d ever sworn, one that transcended even Ravok’s, and I meant to keep my promise this time.

Even if that meant stepping aside. Even if it meant giving her to someone who could actually be enough. Someone who would treasure her and treat her like the queen she was born to be.

Which meant letting her go.

The thought had my throat tightening, my mind spinning in endless, maddening circles. I closed my eyes, steeling myself. Chances were, the prophecy was bullshit. Ravok was our biggest threat, and once he was gone and this was over, I would honor the promise she’d made me swear.

I would leave these shores and never see Evangeline Silverwood again.

Because even though these past hours had been the best of my life, I had to give her up.

For her sake.

* * *

I didn’t know how long I sat there, the silence gnawing at the edges of my memories.

Outside, the wind picked up, clawing against the windows like a living thing, rattling the iron-bound windows as a squall whipped off the ocean. I barely noticed, too lost in this endless loop of worry and the euphoric after effects of drinking from Evie.

Her blood healed me, remade me, and now all I wanted was her.

When she’d prowled toward me, lust written all over her face, ready to pin me down and take me, I’d almost let her. I almost let the moment play out, just for the sheer pleasure I knew I’d find at her hands. Her mouth. Her pussy. I groaned and pitched forward, burying my head in my hands.

The sweet smell of her arousal had nearly made me spill, right there, with her lips on my throat and my cock trapped between us, but I’d managed to pull myself together in time. Only because after desire faded, she would have regretted our coupling.

And somehow, I could survive her hate, but to have her think of us with shame…

That I could not abide.

I leaned back in the chair before the hearth, one hand gripping the armrest, the other draped over my knee. The fire burned low, casting flickering embers across the cold stone floor. My thoughts were a tangled snare, circling the same impossible dilemma.

Keeping Evangeline safe.

Keeping my hands off her. The second was proving more difficult than the first.

Leaving me no choice but to send her away, somewhere she’d be safe, even though no such place existed. In the morning, I would take her back to Crimson House.

As for Ravok …perhaps it was fitting the two of us ended our lives locked in battle, far from our homelands, ruined shells of the powerful males we once were.

A knock at the door shattered the quiet.

Soft, hesitant.

I knew it was her before I even answered. Before her warm desert scent wafted through the crack in the door and sent my senses spiraling. I should pretend I was asleep, or send her away, because once she was in my bedchamber…I squeezed my eyes closed, my cock already hardening.

“Come in.”

The door creaked open, and she stepped inside, bathed in firelight and shadow. Her hair was rumpled, and nervousness gave her spicy scent a sour hint. Evangeline looked… fragile. Even paler than usual, her lips dry, her delicate fingers trembling where they clutched the edge of her sweater.

I was on my feet before I realized I’d moved.

“You're weak.” The words came out sharper than I intended. “You look ready to collapse.”

She gave a half-smile, weary but wry. “Very observant of you. I can see how you’ve lived to such a ripe, old age.”

I exhaled through my nose, forcing my hands to unclench. “You need rest. I should have…I’ll find you some food. Go back to your room and I will bring you…”

She shook her head. “I’m afraid I need more than food and sleep.” She stepped closer, her voice quieter now, uncertain. “I need you , Malachi.”

I went completely still.

Her meaning became clear when she dipped her head, eyes tracking up my throat, her pupils dilating, her cheeks flushing pink.

She was asking me to— Feed her.

I turned away sharply; my jaw clenched tight enough my teeth ached. “No.” I fell into the chair, body shuddering as I fought to keep myself under some semblance of control.

“I haven’t fed since before the invasion of the castle. I expended an enormous amount of energy that night, and after releasing my magic, I’m not regaining my strength like I should. Please, Malachi, I wouldn’t be asking if there was another option.”

I closed my eyes. My name on her tongue would be my undoing.

I dragged a hand through my hair, staring hard at the fire. “You're still learning to control your magic. If my blood…” I couldn’t do this, couldn’t be expected to keep myself together, because the moment her lips touched me…

“My blood is too powerful. Combined with your magic, it could be fatal. I will take you back to Crimson House. Riordan, Blake…let them take care of you.”

When had I become so fucking noble I’d deny myself the chance of a lifetime and hand over the female of my dreams when she was right the fuck in front of me, practically begging to be at my throat?

The answer was right the fuck now.

“You won’t hurt me.” She took another step, until she stood between my open legs, close enough the heat of her body skated over my skin and I sensed the depths of hunger clawing at her. “You wouldn't let anything happen to me.”

She put too much faith in me.

Because what I was imagining right now were all the ways I would use her body, bite her and lick her and bury myself into the very heart of her soul.

I kept my hands at my sides, locked myself down tight, well aware I could have her in my lap in one move. Her frantic heartbeat fluttered in the air between us, her scent—warm, familiar—curled around me, inviting me to touch. To taste. To plunder .

I swallowed hard, already losing this battle.

“Please, Malachi. If I go back now, Blake will never let me out of his sight again. If you really mean to kill Ravok, we have to go to Sleepy Hollow tomorrow. I have to be the strongest I can be. This is the only way. Besides, it’s only…feeding.”

With Evangeline, there was no such thing. There was desire and fantasy and dreams of a future, but there was never just feeding. But she needed me, and the purely male part of me purred . I could do this. Just enough to strengthen her. Nothing more.

I reached for her with careful hands, my fingers ghosting over the curve of her jaw before pulling her down into my lap, arranging her carefully, tilting my head just so. A slow, deliberate movement…giving her time to change her mind.

She didn’t.

Last time—the only time—she’d fed from my wrist, but this time, she’d be at my throat, as was proper. I wanted every inch of her curves pressed against me, wanted to savor, and remember, every last precious second of this experience.

Her lips brushed against my skin, and she exhaled a soft, shuddering breath, warmth washing over me, along with a wave of pure lust. The sound sent a sharp bolt of something dangerous through me.

A keen wanting I had no business feeling, the kind of raw, open emotion that scared the shit out of me, because I’d never felt so laid bare before anyone as I did right now. And I wanted so badly to feel this way again, over and over.

I ignored how eagerly my entire body responded to her closeness, how my cock throbbed, how fucking responsive she was in my hands, the feel of her lips pressed against my throat as she searched for the right spot.

“Take your time,” I urged, letting her explore, relishing the experience of her hands skating over my chest, her thighs parting over mine, until she fit so perfectly, those indecently soft curves pressed into every aching hollow.

“And bite down hard, don’t hesitate, you aren’t going to hurt me.”

Except break my goddamned heart when you leave.

She tensed, then melted against me, her fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt, her lips never leaving my skin and I rested my palm on the small of her back, not pulling her tighter, just…there, touching her, a point of contact between us that felt so right.

Then her fangs slid into me, penetrating my skin, then deeper, claiming my vein, those soft lips sealing around the bite so perfectly, all I could do was imagine them wrapped around my cock.

Her hand snuck around the back of my neck, fingers digging in to hold me in place and I shuddered, my other hand landing on her hip. Never had I allowed anyone to control me so thoroughly, but with Evangeline, this felt better than right.

This felt fucking inevitable. She was fire and light, her scent burning through me in a way nothing else ever had. She made me feel— alive. Made me feel?—

Like she belonged to me.

I pulled back from the reality I could never have. Evangeline was here, in my arms, under my roof, with her fangs in my throat. More than I deserved, and I should savor what I had right in front of me, not be my usual greedy self.

I let her drink her fill, guilt and regret tangling together when her fangs retracted, her tongue licking in long, wet strokes up my throat before she collapsed onto my chest, breathing heavily, her forehead against my shoulder. “Better?” I asked, my voice rougher than before.

She nodded, but didn't move away, fingers still gripping the nape of my neck. Neither did I. I let my hand drift, just once, down the curve of her back. A single stolen moment, allowing myself to think— maybe.

Maybe, when this was over, once Ravok was gone.

Maybe, just maybe—I could be happy.

With her, anything was possible, and maybe the prophecy wasn’t bullshit.

But for now, I simply closed my eyes and let myself hold her, for a little while longer.