42

Right now, she knew he was in the basement, working out in the gym. Malachi had been there for over an hour, as he had yesterday, working out to heavy music. Hamilton assured her that he always took out his frustration in the gym, and she shouldn't worry about it. But that only made her more concerned, wondering what was eating at him so much. She knew they were having trouble narrowing their investigation about the killer, and he wouldn't rest easy until he'd stopped whoever was murdering his pack members. No one could rest until they were all safe again.

She took the muffins out and put the bread in the oven. Cleaning the shelf, she listened to the music that was reverberating through the house, the heavy bass throbbing in time with her motions. She could feel it, almost taste Malachi's angst in the choice of rhythm.

Deciding to go check on him, see if he wanted anything, she made her way along the hallway, down the curved flight of stairs, her footsteps muffled in the thick carpet. As she approached the gym, a room full of weights and other workout equipment, she could hear Malachi's heavy breathing, the curses he muttered between breaths, and the frustration rolling off his agitated body.

She stood by the door, troubled by the sight of her mate.

——♥️♥️——

He is shirtless, skin glistening with sweat as it seeps out like anger from his body, carrying toxins and pent-up emotions. I've never heard Malachi swear so much, but the way he snarls such dirty words, berating himself, has my heart breaking just a little.

What happened today to make him feel like this? Last night too, he was moody, less than anxious to come to bed and instead staying in his office until total exhaustion drove him to pass out beside me, on top of the covers. Anything weird that I'm seeing and sensing pales in significance when I think about what my mate is going through. I want to talk to him, understand his emotions, but he won't hear me out or open up.

I can't help but watch him now since he hasn't yet noticed me. Leaning against the doorframe, I memorise the finely sculpted curves of his muscled body. The strong sweep of his spine is wrapped with tendons and muscles that put the myth of Hercules to shame. I can imagine, with this much energy exuding from his core, Malachi taking down twenty rogues in a vicious battle.

Maybe that's what he wants to do, to fight his demons and everything that's troubling him. But he knows they aren't flesh and blood, same as mine, and we each silently suffer against what we can't see, we can't name.

Sometimes I feel the angst inside building up and aching to be released in a loud scream.

And this is Malachi's way of doing just that.

"I can't do this." He growls, a deep rumble that vibrates along the floor and reaches my feet, making me flinch. With a vicious snarl, he sends his fist flying into the punching bag, the blow fortified with so much strength it threatens to put a hole right through the bag.

"I'm not strong enough," he mumbles, but his words clearly reach my ears. "I can't keep fighting it." He punctuates the statement with a massive hit to the bag, as if his strong punch can counteract the weakness behind his words.

Even so, I have no idea what he means. He is strong, I can see it deep inside him. So maybe he can't. Despite what I've told him otherwise, he must still regard himself as not worthy yet to be Alpha. But why can't he keep fighting? Does he too feel the darkness crawling in the veins of this pack, and feel helpless to stand up to it? Or maybe he is referring to the disrespect towards him from the older wolves, and realises nothing he says or does is changing it?

"Why can't I fight it?!" He shouts and kicks the bag, following his outburst with a string of curses, making me shiver. The hurt tone in his voice sends an ache straight to my chest, a desire to comfort him.

"Malachi, are you okay?" I step into the room, my feet whispering on the bare concrete.

He immediately straightens, his shoulders thrown back as his muscles tense, and he remains facing away from me for a long moment. I can only assume it is to gather control of himself, as I hear him take a deep breath and slowly exhale. When he finally turns to me, the scowl has disappeared from his face, his emotions slipping back behind a hard mask.

My stomach clenches at understanding this, that he doesn't want me to see the truth of what he is feeling.

"Ariella." His voice is strained, chest heaving with exertion, the veins in his neck pulsing under tension. "You shouldn't have come down here."

"Why? Are you hiding from me? Hiding your frustration and anger?" I take slow steps towards him, approaching as you would a skittish animal. Or a dangerous predator. The way the fluorescent bulbs cast a sharp light on him, his shadows falling heavily around his tall frame and defensive stance, this Alpha looks primed to attack and leave nothing breathing in his wake. "Whatever you're going through, you can talk to me. You know that, right?"

"I know," he studies the floor, eyes averted from my gaze. His dark fringe falls over his forehead, shadowing his face further. Still, I can see the lines creasing his otherwise flawless skin.

"Then what is it? Has something happened? Did Hamilton find—"

"It's not that," he turns away ever so slightly when I reach out a hand to lay on his arm. My heart stutters at this small rejection.

"Then tell me..." I whisper, laying my hand instead on his shoulder. His bare skin prickles, the muscle beneath my touch tensing instead of relaxing, the profile of his jaw clenching with a hundred words unsaid.

"I'm sorry, Ariella, I can't. Not now..." his eyes flicker to mine briefly, and for an instant I see the regret in them before he covers it with determination.

"It's okay. I'll give you time. Just know, I'm always ready to listen," I say past the lump in my throat and the ache in my chest.

He nods, and remains silent.

I study him for a moment longer, noticing the twitching of his fingers, the unsteady pounding of his heartbeat, the pursing of his lips as he holds back whatever is eating at his mind. I'm beginning to hate this wall between us. His silence is killing me.

So I decide to kill him with kindness.

"Do you like chocolate?"

He lifts his head and looks at me with a puzzled expression. "Um, yeah?" His voice rumbles with a questioning lilt.

I smile and grab his hand, leading him out of the gym and towards the kitchen after he snatches up his shirt and pulls it over his torso swiftly. I feel his eyes on the back of me, wondering just what I'm doing, but I relish in the suspense and curiosity he is feeling. It is taking his mind off the anger and sadness I know was consuming him before.

"So this is what you've been up to," he looks around the kitchen and racks of muffins laid out to cool.

I check on the raisin bread, pull it out after deciding it is brown enough, and pick up the biggest, most chocolatey muffin.

"Yes, made especially for you," I offer it to him, holding it practically right under his nose, and he scrutinises it before sliding his eyes to mine.

"Are you trying to butter me up before asking me for something?"

I huff slowly through my nose, narrowing my eyes. "Are you as paranoid as your mother?"

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head, and I giggle at the expression I've never seen on him before. It's so interesting to see him finally act almost normal.

"Just accept a gift for what it is," I say. "Can't you see I care for you, and that an extension of that is baking for you? As your mate, I'm always going to be doing things like this for you. So unless you have an allergy to chocolate—which I highly doubt—then I'm sure you will like this muffin."

Malachi patiently lets me ramble, his eyes beginning to sparkle and his lips tipping up in a smirk, then when I finish he does something I never expected.

He wraps his arms around me roughly and pulls me in close, oblivious of the muffin now almost squashed between us. It is such a tight hug, I can't even move my arms around him to return it. The cold ice that had begun seeping into my heart is now melting rapidly at this sweet gesture from my mate.

"You are so adorable, do you know that?" He says after letting me go an inch, putting a bit of space between us to look me in the eyes again.

"Adorable?" I am breathless, my chest hitching in uneven breaths that he momentarily stole from me. "Since when do Alphas use that kind of cute vocabulary?"

"Since I read a thesaurus to pass the time while waiting for an update from my guards this afternoon. They were twenty minutes late to the debrief after exploring Sunset Falls, but that's besides the point. The point is, I will definitely enjoy this muffin. Thank you," he takes it, and right away takes a big bite, and before I can blink, the entire muffin is downed. Only crumbs remain on his lips, which I brush away with my fingers.

"Well, it's a good thing I made a whole batch." I hastily throw a few in a container and pack it into a basket, grabbing a blanket from the hall closet and my jacket from the coat rack.

Then I grab my mate's hand again, and we step into the late afternoon sun, out the back door and down the path through his barren gardens.

My pots of flower seedlings greet us with vibrant hues of green. The air is fresh with the scent of freshly cut grass and woodsmoke. I see lazy columns of smoke rising from the houses' chimneys in the distance, and as winter descends upon us, I know it will become more commonplace. I love the smell of smoke at dusk, and the crisp snap of fire heating the cool air.

"So tell me about your day. What happened that had you so worked up?" I query as we head down the path and over the small meadow, taking us to a little hill that overlooks the valley between territories.

"I'd rather not talk about it," Malachi shrugs, taking the basket from me to lighten my load.

"So then it's just more bad news? No closer to finding the killer? You know, I could—"

"Ariella, I said I don't want to talk about it now." Malachi cuts me off with almost a harsh tone.

I bite back the next response that is rather inappropriate, and instead say with an exaggerated sigh, "Okay." Weaving my fingers through his and relishing in the warmth his hand provides, I continue guiding us up the hill.

"Let's pretend we're something else. Just two wolves without title," I break the heavy silence and smile up at him, noting the way the fading light reflects in his glassy irises. "We've just bought out first plot of land from the Alpha, and are going to inspect it. We have visions of what our home will be like, in a pack where everyone is neighbourly and looking out for one another." I see it all now in my mind's eye, the golden sunset framing our silhouettes, the dirt beneath our feet fertile for stories untold to spring forth and grow into happy memories. "We'll live here for many years to come, raise our six children and watch them grow strong and healthy."

"Is that what you see in that mind of yours?" Malachi looks at me tenderly, no trace of the harsh anger from earlier. "You're such a dreamer, Ari. My dreamer," he murmurs as he presses a kiss in my hair.

I frown, but don't say anything.

Malachi notices my displeased expression, and stops us halfway up the hill with a tug on my hand. "What is it? What's so bad about being a dreamer?" He whispers and looks at me, and when I stare off into the distance he gently takes my chin between his fingers and guides my gaze back to his.

I shrug and give half a smile, trying to make light of the way his nickname irked me. "I can name a lot of people who could answer that question."

He lets out a heavy sigh, "Come on, you don't have to always listen to them. They're just jealous of the positive outlook you have. Dreams help us forget the pain of reality, even if only for short moments. They let us see a brightness for the future, and how beautiful things can be. Dreams give us hope."

What he says is so deep and golden, I hold onto every word. I know he is going through a hard time, but I didn't know he too retreats to fanciful places in his imagination to take his mind off everything. "And what's your hope for the future?"

We start walking again, reaching the top and laying the blanket down under the tree that has lost its leaves to the approaching season.

He takes a moment to answer, settling down with his legs bent and elbows resting on his knees. "My hope is to live in a place where decisions aren't based on fear or hate. I want to be a good leader. With an amazing Luna by my side. Together," he pats the seat beside him and I wriggle closer, "we will lead this pack with justice and fairness. And kindness."

The sound of his deep and sure voice takes me to a place where anything is possible. I believe, with him beside me, we can achieve anything.

"We will live in a bright and airy house," he continues, "that's not too big. Just on the hill over there. With two or three pups. Not too many."

"Really?" I scoff and hit him playfully in the arm. "You'll be wanting more pups than that, just you wait and see how cute they'll be."

"Hmm, I suppose," Malachi stretches back and smiles languidly at me, a teasing glint in his expression. "With your eyes and my hair, they'll be the most handsome children in the territory."

My stomach flutters at the heavy meaning behind his words, of the idea of us creating pups together. "Or with your enchanting eyes and my artistic talent, they'll be the most charming and irresistible," I counter.

Malachi nods his head in agreement. "As long as they don't have your annoying habit of snoring all night."

I smack him in the chest and put the basket of muffins out of his reach. "Take that back!" I demand.

He opens his mouth to say something, but then closes it slowly, something sparkling in his eyes as he leans close and wraps his arm around me. With a kiss placed on my cheek, his sassy comment is forgiven.

"I can't wait for that kind of future you described. It sounds wonderful," I breathe into the cooling air between us.

Malachi gives a loose shrug. "I can't wait for a lot of things. Others," he frowns, staring off at the mountains that are growing hazy with tendrils of smoke that fill the valleys. "Other things, I could wait a lifetime for."

He says it so seriously, and I'm sure I see a shiver pass through his body. It bothers me, but as we sit in silence for a long moment, I don't know what to say to shatter the pensive mood. I don't want to make light of whatever is bothering him, or brush off what seems to matter deeply to him.

"Let's go for a run," I eventually suggest.

"A run?" Malachi snaps his gaze to mine, confused as he seems to enjoy sitting here with a heavy tension cloaked around us as night falls.

"Yes, to burn off some energy." I haven't been oblivious to the way his fists clench every few minutes, or the muscles in his thighs tense. I especially can't ignore his heartbeat which seems to skip erratically no matter how relaxed he tries to appear. "I haven't stretched my legs for ages." I stand, bouncing on my toes and eager to get moving.

He nods and rises in a graceful movement, his body so much taller and broader than my petite frame, yet each limb perfectly commanded by Alpha strength and agility.

We shift and shake out our fur. Catching the scent of pines and wild flowers on the breeze, my wolf aches to run through the forest and open meadows. Malachi still holds himself stiffly, as though he is unsure about this. It is late and he probably thinks of all the work he has yet to finish today.

But I won't let him keep stuffing down all the stress. I look at him and jerk my head towards the forest, then raise an eyebrow as if to say, lead the way, Alpha.

Tossing his head proudly, Malachi gives me an amused smile then takes off, his paws pounding over the fallen leaves and trails as his legs surge forward.

I grin wolfishly. Maybe now Malachi will loosen up and finally unwind.

We run for ages, maybe hours. When we return to the top of the hill, our blanket under the tree, we collapse and pant heavily, the endorphins and adrenaline pumping through our veins and lightening our spirits.

"I needed that," Malachi looks over at me and gives me one of his rare smiles. Thought it is dark with barely a sliver of moon in the sky, I see it. It shines brighter than many stars combined. "Thank you."

"Anytime," I laugh. "Like seriously, anytime. I love running with you." I love you. I think the crazy thought then dismiss it instantly.

There's no way I could love this man already, even with the mate bond drawing us like magnets. I don't know half of the secrets he keeps wound around himself like leaves of the mysscelfolia plant, protecting the heart that blossoms inside his chest. I don't know and won't know the full extent of his hurts until he opens up to me. Until we complete the mate bond.

We talk for a while longer. I am unsure how long, as my eyes grow heavier and I think I am falling against his chest, his warm body cocooning me in rest. I sleep, and dream blissfully until the first chirp of the morning birds stirs my consciousness. Slowly opening my eyes, I see the stark branches and twigs above us, the sky brightening from navy to baby blue. The sun has not yet crept over the horizon, and everything around us is still. I take a deep breath of the crisp air that is heavy with Malachi's scent, and find it hard to fully expand my lungs.

I realise my mate is resting on me, his head against my chest and his arms wrapped around my back. Smiling to myself, I run my hands over his shoulders and through his hair. I am perfectly content until I look down and see what is crawling over Malachi's legs.

"Malachi! Wake up, quick!"

"What?" he startles and looks at me, dazed.

"Spider on your leg!" I push him back and scramble out from under him, struggling with his heavy weight and drowsiness. But when Malachi realises what is going on, he moves faster than I've ever seen him. He shrieks even louder than I did and doesn't stop until the hairy creeper is squished under a rock.

I'm huddled against the tree and Malachi is standing tall, both our limbs shaking from the fright.

Then he calms down and chuckles grimly, rubbing his jaw in a quick motion. "I'm sorry Ariella. I'm supposed to be brave and keep my head, but I kinda lost it, didn't I?"