Page 47 of Of Blackened Blood (The Blackened Blade #3)

MICAI

I make my way under the shower, the heat dripping down my body and seeping into my bones. It warms me instantly from the cold that had quickly crept inside me from lying on the forest floor for so long.

Mallyn and I had gone another three rounds in the forest before he received a call from Creed, putting an end to our little alone time.

A blush creeps into my cheeks with the memory of it all.

We must have been there for at least a few hours, as night had already taken the skies by the time we made our way back to the abattoir.

And if it wasn’t for Creed’s call, we’d probably still be there.

A smile stretches my cheeks as I scrub myself with a soft grey loofah before finishing up quickly and making my way out of the modern white-and-grey tiled shower.

I glance around as I dry myself off, noting the sleek minimalistic look of this bathroom with its white and light grey accents.

And pulling the fresh clothes that Mallyn prepared for me on— an oversized white T-shirt and some grey sweatpants —I towel dry my hair and head into the bedroom. Mallyn’s room.

I tug the drawstrings of the sweatpants as tight as they will allow and take another step into the dimly lit room.

Mallyn had brought me straight up here while the guys were busy downstairs.

He set up the shower and some towels for me and then brought me a change of clothes from his drawer, his eyes never leaving me as he handed them over.

But Creed’s voice from downstairs pulled him away, and he left reluctantly after a quick kiss.

I probably wouldn’t have been able to shower otherwise.

A chuckle leaves my lips as I peer around the room, eager to learn more about my beautiful shifter. Hopefully I could glean the little things he likes with a small glance here and there.

The curtains were pulled, covering the farthest half of the room in darkness as trickles of light enter the curtains nearest me, showing me small glimpses of the area around my and Mallyn’s personal space.

There are shades of light grey matched with woody earth-brown tones covering the area of the room I can see. The walls seem to be two shades of grey, the floor a dark ash wood, and his bed is as big as Annex’s but covered in what seems to be Mallyn’s favourite colour, grey.

The room is more spacious than Ezra’s or Annex’s, but with a more minimalist design.

On one side of the room sits two large grey dressers with a sleek dark grey wardrobe in between them.

A few small candles that have a slight woodsy scent sit on top of the dressers closest to me, with Mallyn’s black motorbike helmet on the farthest dresser. But not much else is around them.

My fingers brush across the black metal helmet as I remember riding together.

I can see why he loves it so much, the sense of freedom and the speed of the ride that blurs out the world around us. I can’t wait to go again with him.

I notice a light switch peeking out from behind the helmet and flick it up, the space instantly illuminating as I blink away the brightness.

I peer across the room and to the area that was cloaked in darkness just moments before, and my eyes widen with what sits there. A wall full of books.

I quickly make my way over, my excitement rising as I peer up at the rows upon rows of dark wooden shelves covered from ceiling to floor in beautifully bound stories. The wall itself has been transformed into a wonderfully crafted personal library.

A giddiness builds up inside me, wanting to go through each and every book and see what Mallyn enjoys reading.

Maybe I could also find something to sit down with and enjoy myself?

There is a soft-looking grey and navy armchair sitting near the window just a few feet from the book wall with a circular wooden table sitting beside it and a small dove-grey mug and stack of books perched on top of it.

It gives off a cosy feeling and makes me think that Mallyn spends a lot of time there.

I take a step closer, about to reach for the books he’s left on the small coffee table, when I hear a loud shout from downstairs.

I freeze, pulling my hand back before twisting around and making my way out of Mallyn’s bedroom, quickly making my way downstairs and toward the noise. Had someone broken in? Had something happened to one of the guys?

The thought has me running even faster down the stairs before making my way into and back out of each room: the kitchen, the gym, the weapons room, and the garage, searching for them as fast as my legs will take me.

What if there was another attack? What if they’re hurt?

Panic slices through me as I hear another noise.

I twist around, hearing an angered raised voice and register it as Annex’s.

I dash to where I hear his voice fall from, the main abattoir’s space. Pushing the opened doors even wider, I ready myself for an attack or fight but find five sets of familiar eyes turning my way as I burst inside.

I peer around the space ... there is no raging battle, no enemies attacking, or chaos and destruction. There is just Creed, Ezra, Mallyn, and Annex all standing in front of the bearded blacksmith from Ellie’s and having what looks to be some kind of standoff.

My eyes fall to the man in question, his dark brown hair messy as it lazily frames his face, his brown eyes narrowed in a glare toward my men as his unkempt beard is tugged downward in a frown.

He folds his two large arms over one another, a scowl growing on his face as his black shirt bunches tightly against his chest.

My eyes narrow further in his direction. What the hell is he doing here anyway?

I take a step toward them just as the blacksmith makes his own move toward me. That is, before Annex and Mallyn place themselves in front of me and block his path.

“As we’ve already said,” Creed calls, walking to stand before the blacksmith, “you can’t barge in here and start making demands.”

Creed glares at Isaiah, whose eyes seem fully focused on me rather than the pissed off supe before him.

“What’s going on?” I ask, ignoring Mallyn’s and Annex’s protests while quickly moving around them. “Why is he here?”

I gesture to Isaiah, glancing between Creed and Ezra before my eyes catch a glimpse of what he’s holding in his hands. My mother’s necklace.

Annex had dropped it at Ellie’s not long ago, hoping Isaiah would be able to help.

Has he found something already? Is that why he’s here? Is he able to tell us what Seria has done to my mother’s heirloom? And maybe remove or fix it for me?

Ezra puts his hands out, stopping me from moving any closer to the blacksmith. He meets my questioning gaze.

“Isaiah here suddenly turned up demanding to see you , Micai. He won’t tell us why, although clearly it’s related to the necklace he’s holding.

But why does he want to talk to you? Why is he so adamant?

” Ezra’s gaze turns toward Isaiah, a wary look in his eyes before they darken.

“As if we would ever let him near you so easily. If you want to talk to Micai, you talk to all of us.”

“I didn’t come here for you, boys.” Isaiah’s tone is gruff and curt as he addresses Ezra, his large, burly stature bristling as he glares at my sweet protective Mate.

And it has my anger instantly growing toward the blacksmith.

Not that I ever enjoyed his brief company before.

“Well, that’s the problem, Isaiah,” Annex calls, moving beside me and Ezra, his Bowie already gripped between his fingers.

“You asking for my woman is a no-go.” He twists his Bowie in his hands, his gaze looking suspiciously toward the large tower of a man.

“You keep demanding my woman’s time and I’ll have to show you one of your custom pieces up close and personal. ”

Isaiah scoffs. “That’s cute, boy. You can certainly try .”

Annex’s eyes widen before he takes a step toward him, but Creed stands in his way, blocking him from reaching Isaiah.

“This isn’t your shop, or your domain. It’s ours,” Creed grits out. “If you have something to say to one of us, you’ll say it in front of all of us. Or not at all.” Creed glances my way briefly before turning back to glare at Isaiah. His dark tone leaves no room for argument.

Isaiah looks to me again, ignoring the guys’ glares as our gazes meet. His brown eyes look like they always do when I enter his shop, like he has something he wants to say to me. But he never does. It’s annoying as hell.

But him being here now has to be about the necklace. Why else would he be here holding it?

I glance around to each of my guys and Creed, their bodies rigid and gazes murderous toward Isaiah. Each looking as if they were ready to grab the oversized blacksmith and chuck him out of the abattoir’s doors and lock them behind him.

I understand that Isaiah’s personality seems more than a little shitty, but if he has answers that could help us then I am more than willing to suck up the urge to punch him to get what we need.

A sigh leaves my lips as I realise the guys aren’t going to relent in their little standoff. Guess I have to be the reasonable one here.

“What have you found?” I gesture toward my mother’s necklace, held gently between his large, rough fingers. “There was something, right?”

His gaze darkens, flicking toward the necklace before meeting my eyes and giving me a curt nod.

“What is it—” I ask, before he cuts me off.

“Who?” Isaiah asks, his features darkening as a murderous tone seeps from his lips with the singular word.

My brows pinch together with his question.

“Who did this ?” He holds up my mother’s keepsake, the colour in the gem no longer a sapphire blue, but a blood-red hue. The gem looks dark and murky and unlike any jewel I’ve seen, or what it had been like before.

What happened to it? How could a jewel change its colour?

“Who tainted Ellie’s treasure?” Isaiah grits out, his anger rising as he glares around the room, as if the perpetrator will just appear.

My eyes narrow as I point to the necklace. “That’s my mother’s keepsake, not Ell?—”