41

I dump my stuff in my room and quickly take a shower. After cooling down and feeling much better, I go to the kitchen and start dinner preparations. I hope no one else joins us. I don't think I'm ready to see Seneca just yet, not with everything swirling around in my head.

"Thought I'd find you here," Malachi's deep voice makes my hands still and my heart start racing. I put down the knife and celery I was chopping and turn to face him.

"Hungry?" I ask, leaning back against the counter casually.

"What, no hello kiss?" His black eyebrows rise and disappear beneath his fringe as he looks at me cryptically.

"After what happened last night, then your leaving, I wasn't sure if you'd want...."

The penitent look he gives me makes me stop. When he begins walking closer, my throat goes dry, but not in a bad way. His scent is strong, the exercise of training enhancing the intensity. Sweat glistens on his skin, highlighting his muscular arms. Each footstep closer seems to increase my heart rate exponentially; each breath he takes robs me of my own.

"And what do you want?" he asks in a husky voice as he finally reaches me, resting both arms on the counter either side of me, caging me in.

I don't mind in the slightest. "I want there to be nothing between us that we can't solve. No secrets, no doubts. No fear or questions." I find it hard to concentrate on what I'm saying while looking up into his beautiful blue eyes, as they flick between my own and down to my lips.

"So you wouldn't mind if I kissed you?"

In answer, I lean forward and rest my hand on his chest. His lips travel the rest of the way and lightly touch mine. His kiss is so soft, so gentle, so opposite to the heated passion of last night. Even so, this one sends just as many tingles dancing over my skin and accelerating my heart. I forget how to breath as my hands wind around his neck and pull him closer, his hands sliding down to my waist. He keeps them there, lightly touching me and not going any further up or down. He is cautious, I can feel it in his movements. He is apologetic, I can hear it in his soft sigh. He is still wanting to show respect to me, despite everything that has happened.

"Thank you," I say, unsure if my breathy whisper can even be heard.

His mouth lifts in a pleased smile. "For what?"

"For still caring. For being gentle."

He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "I will always care about you Ariella. Don't forget that, no matter what happens."

I nod, and we release each other. Together, we quickly finish getting dinner ready, then head upstairs. While Malachi showers, I finish putting away my things from my trip home.

After only a short while, he comes out wearing only boxers, and rubbing his hair roughly with a towel. His bare torso is ripped with muscles, and I can't help watching them flex as he moves his arms, water droplets glistening on the perfectly sculpted curves.

To distract myself, I sit on the bed against the headboard and pull out my sketchbook, hastily drawing a fluffy puppy.

"Hey, I just remembered," I put down my pen and notice he's slipped on a shirt and combed his hair. "What's the surprise you were going to show me yesterday?"

"Ahh, that." Malachi turns to me with a boyish grin, dispelling the frown that had been etched between his eyebrows for the last hour. Slowly, he tugs on the hem of his shirt and lifts it back over his head, all the while coming closer to me until he's kneeling on the end of the bed.

"Malachi, what are you doing?" I'm entranced by his movements, by the sight of his powerful chest, but warning flags instantly wave in my head. Heat flushes my cheeks and I scoot back against the wall.

"Relax, I'm not giving you a strip show. Yet," he teases, making my blush even brighter. It feels like my entire face and neck are on fire. "I just wanted to show you this," he points to his left ribs, and I peer closer.

Above the tattoo of the great winged Karalax is a new one, more ink staining his skin in a pattern I instantly recognise.

"My drawing of your wolf's eye... you got it as a tattoo?" I lift my hand to touch it, but hesitate and slowly pull back.

"Yeah, I love it so much, and you drew it especially for me. I wanted to have it permanently close so I could always remember it."

And remember me, I hope he means.

"Do you like it?" he asks, his eyebrows slashing up in question, as if my opinion really matters to him.

"Of course," I rise on my knees so I'm level with him, both kneeling in the middle of our bed. "It's actually kinda cool. It fits in well with the other designs." The soft strands of fur seem to blend perfectly with the hard scales of the karalax wing. The ink is so dark and precise. This time I don't pause my movements, just reach out and slide my finger over the tattoo, over his silky smooth skin. I watch as it ripples and he shudders, shivers cascading across his ribs and abdominal muscles.

He takes a sharp breath as I continue my perusal, my fingers gliding down over the swirls of ink. It is strange to see my drawing marked on someone's skin, and especially my mate's. The canvas is unusual, but the intent behind it is making my heart flutter in appreciation.

My art, the images in my head that so many people have knocked me for, have been reproduced onto something permanently. "It's very sweet of you, Malachi. I didn't know anyone would appreciate my art like you do."

He opens his mouth as if to say something, then closes it, an army of expressions marching across his face as he stares at me with a storm of emotions in his eyes. If only I knew what was going on in that mind of his, but until we are fully bonded, I don't know what he is thinking.

The air between us grows heavy. The blood in my veins becomes hot under Malachi's unwavering gaze, drawing me in. My hands have a mind of their own as they trail up Malachi's chest, around his neck, and pull his head down until my lips meet his in a kiss. It seems, despite my conflicted feelings, that I can't get enough of him.

And neither can he of me, as the weight of him pushes me back until I'm lying under him. He hovers over me, one arm slipping under my back. The kiss heats up, our bodies warming to each other, our breaths coming in short gasps.

With a sudden desire to take control, perhaps borne from some residual fear of vulnerability from last night, I use my new strength to flip him over and straddle his hips.

A strangled groan escapes his lips, and I swallow it with my own moan. My need for him grows, and I visualise myself on the edge of an ocean of love and passion. I am teetering, wondering if I could survive drowning. Would I make it out the other side of this whirlpool with a stronger heart, or would I be left with a tattered soul? Would Malachi hold me securely when everything falls down around us, including this fledgling relationship we're still working out?

I know the answer.

I can't risk it. So many things need resolving before we give in to the mate pull like this.

Like dragging myself out of bed early on a cold morning, I push myself up and away from my mate's warm embrace. "We shouldn't," I murmur huskily, my voice an octave lower than I remember it being. "But," I trace my finger down his neck and tap the spot near his collar bone. "This is where I'm going to mark you. Right here." I can feel his pulse thundering in the vein nearby.

His throat moves as he swallows hard, his eyes peering at me lazily from beneath heavy lids. "Do it."

I lean further back, not sure I've heard properly. "What?"

"Mark me. Claim me as yours. Mate me."

The intensity with which Malachi is speaking is making my insides turn to molten lava. His eyes darken, his hands tightening on my waist, nearly making my decision crumble to ashes. This isn't the right time. So why does it feel so good?

"No." I climb off him and pace the room, running a hand through my tangled hair, before pressing fingers to my swollen lips.

Malachi sits up and releases a deep sigh. "You're right. I'm sorry for—"

"Don't apologise. We both felt something and nearly let it take us too far. I started it anyway," I remember how I kissed him first.

"Well, I was thinking of doing it," he gives me a sly grin.

The look in his eyes is still enough to make my knees feel like giving out. My eyes drop back down to his chest and the tattoos on his ribs. Changing topic, I say, "It's a good copy of my drawing. The artist is very talented."

"She's been doing it for years, as well as other art projects," Malachi tilts his head after pulling on his shirt again, "Would you like to meet her? I'm sure you'd get on very well with Joaquina."

"Sure."

He holds out his hand for me.

"Right now?"

He nods. "She's works late and doesn't mind people dropping in at all times."

I agree, and we both walk through the pack grounds to get to her place. Malachi tells me it's a little studio up on a hill, overlooking the territory with a beautiful vantage. I smile and acknowledge pack members as we walk past them, some out for an early evening stroll, others heading home from work. With my arm looped through Malachi's, I feel like this is a life I could get used to.

We reach the small house and Malachi knocks. The door is opened instantly, as if our arrival was expected.

"Mal, my darling boy, how good to see you again! You agree to the new sketch I did? You want the ink?"

"Hi Quina, I'm just here for a social visit. This is my mate Ariella," he introduces us, and I shake hands with one that is inked with swirls and designs that are intricate enough to make you dizzy. "She drew the wolf."

Joaquina's eyes light up and she pulls me inside, my feet barely even scraping the threshold. "Oh, my beautiful dear, that was the most exquisite sketch I've seen in a long time. You have real talent, believe you me. How long have you been drawing?"

Before I can even protest, I am sitting down with a cup of some kind of herbal brew in my hands. The lady of the house sits opposite me, leaning forward and resting her arms on her knees as she smiles at me. She has silvery hair tied back with colourful scarves, a few piercings on her lip and brow, and more ink swirling down her neck and across both shoulders under a black leather vest. The images are like nothing I've ever seen before, but to be fair, I haven't traveled the world like this woman probably has. She wears an enigmatic smile as her eyes stay riveted on me. I feel like I am being scrutinised, and it sends a chill down the back of my neck.

"Since I was a young girl," I reply simply, deciding to share with this shewolf as little as possible.

"Amazing! And have you thought of selling flashes? You could make a lot of money if your other designs are as brilliant as ..." She trails off when she notices my confused look.

"Flashes?"

"Ariella doesn't know much about the process of tattooing," Malachi explains to Joaquina, making her lean back with a gleam in her dark grey eyes.

"Well, we'll have to do something about that. Let's give you your first inking, shall we?"

I open my mouth to protest, but she pushes me back in the chair, spins me around until I come face to face with her wall of designs, and begins pulling out her ink needles.

"Let's see, where would you like it? On your shoulder? Your collar bone?"

I am breathless as my eyes take in the dozens of designs, each as intricate as the other. Otherworldly patterns and sketches mesmerise me, filling my mind with ideas. Not for a tattoo for myself. I had never intended or wanted one.

"Umm..."

"Or how about on your hip, or even on the side of your breast? I'm sure the Alpha would like that." She gives Malachi a saucy grin, and he just chuckles as he rocks back in the chair beside me.

A blush steals up my face, growing hotter the more Joaquina fusses over me.

"What colour would you like, Ari?" Malachi asks, seeming to have forgotten to even consult if I want to go along with this. It's like before I can even blink, they've both decided I want to mark my skin with a tattoo.

"Oh, Mal, you know better than that!" Joaquina clucks her tongue. "First tat is always done in special ink. Law of the land." She takes down a bottle from a shelf, and I notice many other bottles lined up neatly, dark liquids staining the insides.

"Special ink?" My voice comes out a nervous squeak.

"Ahh yes, of course. Remember what I told you, Ari? I got my first when I was thirteen years old," Malachi lifts up his shirt and shows me again, and I see the darkest swirling pattern in the middle of his abdomen, the ink so black it's like I'm looking into a vacuum. Devoid of all light.

"So what kind of design?" He flips through an album. "I think some forest creature would suit you. Maybe a butterfly?"

"Maybe a flower..." I say hesitantly, realising if I'm going to get this done, it may as well be something I like.

"Uh uh. First inking chooses you," Joaquina finishes readying her tools and lays them down. Taking a pencil in her left hand, she then places her other on my head.

"What?" I look at her puzzled, her words not making sense in my mind.

First inking chooses you.

"Shh, be quiet. I need to read your aura. Hmm." She hums a low note and closes her eyes, tilting her head back. Panic rises in me as her left hand begins drawing something on the sketch pad beneath the graphene tip. I glance at Malachi, and he must sense my fear.

"It's alright, she does this with everyone. It's just her quirk." His eyes seem dark under the low lights of the parlour.

I try and relax, but when Joaquina digs her fingers into my hair, and I look over at what she's sketching, my stomach clenches in nerves.

The pattern is strange, circles upon circles, morphing into what I think is a face before it changes again.

"Oh, yes, this is perfect," she murmurs, a weird smile growing on her face as her eyes remain closed. "This suits you perfectly, Ariella dear."

The sound of her voice prickles my skin, and I can't breathe. My lungs constrict as my bones feel light. My muscles grow weak and still she draws, still she holds onto my head.

"I...I can't breathe," I squirm in my chair and grasp Malachi's hand tight.

"Stay still. They haven't finished yet." Joaquina snaps at me, her hand sketching more quickly.

"No, I don't think I want a tattoo after all," I try and protest as I watch the drawing take shape, the intricate pattern layering over itself in tight coils.

"Yes, you do. The choice isn't up to you, anyway."

The way she says it, the coldness in her tone, has me lurching for Malachi and grasping him tightly, using him as an anchor to haul myself from the chair.

"I said don't move!" Joaquina yells but I'm already out of her reach.

My limbs feel like numb appendages that aren't attached to my brain, but I manage to fight whatever voodoo has been weaved around me, and stumble out the door of the studio. I'm pulling Malachi with me, but soon I sag towards the ground and he holds me up steadily.

"Ari, are you alright? What was that all about?" He asks, but I have no immediate answer.

I look back and see Joaquina standing on the porch of her studio, watching us with a hard frown. Chills continue to run up and down my back, so I look away and keep heading down the hill towards home.

"I'm really sorry, Ariella," Malachi supports me and speaks despite being completely confused by what just happened. He isn't the only one. "I didn't know you'd be so creeped out by Quina. She has a heart of gold, honestly."

"Does she!?" I look up at Malachi, incredulous. All I can see in my mind's eye is the cunning gleam in Joaquina's eyes, the void of darkness seeping from every tattoo on her skin.

And one particular bottle she kept on her shelf, with floral etchings of the madenolia plant on the label.

Ariella was shaken.

Shivering, she'd allowed Malachi to help her get ready for bed, as her fingers were still not cooperating with her brain signals. He assured her it was just the lingering effects of the herbal tea that Joachina gave her clients to help them relax.

But Ariella hadn't drunk the tea.

She's sat under Joachina's hand and felt her strength draining, some power sucking it from her and leaving her weak. Whatever the tattoo artist was seeing beyond her closed eyes and drawing about her was enough to put Ariella on edge for the entire day after.

She avoided the hill just behind the pack centre, and never went anywhere by herself. Spending time working alongside Devanshi, or training overtime with Hamilton seemed preferable to running into the strange shewolf.

Malachi helped her feel secure at night, with his arm draped around her waist, but he didn't seem interested to hear about her fears. So she kept them to herself because she knew he'd never understand.

Whatever she'd felt and seen in Joaquina's studio, he hadn't.

Whatever darkness had been swirling in her silver irises, only Ariella was aware of it.

Whatever weird, numbing sensation had snaked down her spine as Joaquina laid her hand on her head, Malachi had never experienced the same thing.

What was wrong with Ariella?

She contemplated these things as she pounded a ball of dough. Baking was her remedy, to take her thoughts off everything and refocus the energy into something productive. Normally sketching was her relaxation haven, but the images were too deep, too disturbing. All she saw were demons in every shadow, every cranny, scratching at the walls and clawing to get inside her head.

And in her dreams, Malachi kept dying. Sucked away into the darkness, into a realm she could never reach unless she too became the monster of her nightmares.

"More raisin bread?"

"Yup," Ariella gave a monosyllabic response to Knight as he casually wandered into the kitchen. He'd made it a habit to check on her, see how she was going, and listen to whatever was on her mind. He'd heard some of her dilemma, but she didn't share everything. Not even his concern and calming attitude towards her could prompt her to open up about things everyone had called her crazy for.

"And what do you have cooking?" he crouched down in front of the oven, careful not to open it after Ariella got mad at him for ruining her pastries the day before.

"Chocolate muffins." Ariella added more raisins to the dough and kept kneading it, keeping a watchful eye on the oven.

"How did you know they are my favourite?" Knight asked with a cheeky wink.

Ariella narrowed her eyes on him. "And who said I'm making them for you? Arrogant beta," she muttered the last part under her breath, but loud enough for him to hear.

Knight growled lowly, "Who else would you make them for if it's not for this crusty old wolf?" he tried to give a silly smile but failed. It came off as more a grimace.

"Seneca giving you a hard time?" Ariella caught the undertones of his joke.

Knight sighed and rubbed his stubbled jaw. "She's in a grouchy mood," he said, explaining everything in the few simple words. Then he grabbed a few raisins, throwing them into his mouth. "Give a shout when they're ready," he jerked his chin towards the muffins.

"Sure," Ariella smiled, glad to do something to make his day better. She couldn't imagine working closely with the complicated Luna.

When she was alone to think again, her mind wandered back to her mate, as it had constantly every spare minute she had. It wasn't difficult to do when she could feel him in the house, always aware of his location and trying to understand what he was feeling.