43

He runs a hand through his hair, smoothing it down where it stands at all angles, his eyes darting about to spot anyone who might have witnessed this embarrassing scene.

"I've never seen someone so scared of spiders," I say with raised eyebrows.

He pokes around the blanket before sitting down beside me, making sure there aren't anymore eight-legged critters. "Yeah, well, I had a terrible experience when I was a baby. Don't ask," he holds up a warning hand just as I was about to sprout a hundred questions. "You'd probably laugh and say it was nothing."

"Well, Alphas are supposed to be known for their fearlessness..." I begin to tease with a grin on my face.

"I was two years old, tiny for my age, and no match for the seven inch huntsman that crept across the grass and right into my lap while I was playing in the garden!" he defends himself, and I hold up my hands in surrender and begin giggling at the funny story. "I swear if Hamilton hadn't stupidly picked it up and kicked it like a soccer ball, I would've died of fright," he finishes and by this time I'm laughing so hard, imagining the two adorable babies playing together. It paints such a pretty picture in my mind, except for the deplorable spider.

"You know huntsmans don't bite, right?" I rest my head on his shoulder and say when I catch my breath.

"What difference does that make? Besides, there are so many other worse creatures that do."

"Like me?" I can't resist the joke, rising on my knees to kiss him on his neck, right where I want to mark him.

"Oh, yeah. You're so dangerous, it's killing me," he pulls me closer so I fall in his lap, then just as he kisses me on the lips deeply, full of passion, he tickles me in the ribs.

"Don't you dare tickle me!" I try to pull away, but his grip is vice-like. Our laughter mingles as I try and poke him in the stomach. His rock hard abs are not ticklish in the slightest, however, and only cause to stoke a fire inside me at the touch of him.

"Well now you know my fear, and I know yours," he calls a truce, pinning my arms against my chest and holding me against his body so I'm trapped.

If only he really knew my fears.

I twist my head and smile up at him, the breaking sunlight playing with the angular planes of his face and highlighting his most handsome aspects. He lies back on the blanket, resting me on top of his chest so my head rests perfectly under his neck, and slowly runs his hands up and down my back. My entire body melts into the shape of his, tingles chasing each other along my skin from his gentle caresses.

"Thank you Ariella," he murmurs, the sound of his quiet voice rumbling like distant thunder through his chest beneath mine.

"For what?" I wrap my hands around him as best I can.

He peers at me intensely with his crystal blue eyes, "For just being here, with me. For being with me. I know I'm not the kind of mate you wanted, and I'm not sure I even know how to be. But still, you're here. You're choosing to stay with me." Reaching his fingers up, he trails one down my cheek until he tips my chin up and lays a soft kiss on my lips.

"Oh Malachi. I would never leave you. You mean far too much to me to just leave." This is the truth, my heart knows it. I may not know everything about the Alpha of DoubleEdge, but I am attached to this dark and secretive man. The bond has drawn us together, and I can't let him go now. "I know we'll sort things out, and you can share things when you're ready. To me, I enjoy just being with you. Even if we're not talking, just holding you like this is comforting to me." I pat his chest where my hand rests.

"When we're together I feel relaxed and secure. When I sleep next to you, like last night here under the stars, I don't have so many...have any nightmares." I hastily fumble over what I was going to say, hoping he doesn't pick up on it.

He does. His eyebrows slash together in a frown. "How often do you have nightmares?"

I look away to avoid his piercing gaze, and feel his hold tighten. "Not often...maybe only a couple times a week..."

"About what?" Again, his eyes capture mine in a way I have no control over. They are neither forcing nor condemning, just gently probing. The pull between us demands this connection, this honesty I'm not sure I'm ready to give.

I can see the concern in his eyes and confess. "You."

His jaw hardens, and I recognise the tensed strain that eases into his shoulders and entire posture. Sitting up and settling me between his knees, he asks what I have been dreading all along. "What about me?"

I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry. But I need to say this. I can't keep it from him any longer. "I—I probably shouldn't be telling you this..."

He takes my hands in his and gives them an encouraging squeeze.

Taking a deep breath, I continue, looking directly in Malachi's eyes. "But you're my mate, so I'll just say it anyhow... I have visions. And I've seen you die."

He just stares at me. His glassy blue eyes hold mine in a trance, our hearts speeding up in sync. "Die? As in, like... when I'm old, and we both grow old...and pass away..." he stops because I'm shaking my head, and his expression falls. He knows what I mean.

"Now. Like this," I run a hand tenderly down his face. His young, beautiful face. "I don't want to see you die, Malachi. But I have seen it. I sense it. I feel it." My hands seek the collar of his shirt, gripping it hard as tears fill my eyes, reflecting the early morning light until Malachi is shining with blurred hues of gold. I struggle to take a breath as I picture him as I see in my dreams, so cold and empty, darkness seeping from his heart that has ceased beating. I hate to see him like that and close my eyes, trying to erase the image. "I don't know what I'd do if it was real. I can't picture a world without you, Malachi."

"It's okay, just breathe. I'm alright. I'm right here," he comfort and calms me by pulling my head close to rest against his chest, and I automatically do as he says.

After taking a few deep breaths, I lean back and wipe away my tears. "Now I'm the one over-reacting. I'm sorry, it's just dreams. They don't necessarily mean anything. I don't know why—"

"Shh," he places a finger over my lips and stops me from blubbering. "They might not be just dreams," he says in all seriousness and I feel my heart rate spike all over again.

"What do you mean?"

"I've also dreamt about you. Nightmares, Hamil calls them." He looks down briefly before meeting my eyes and holding them. "In them, I see you dying.

And there's nothing I can do to save you."

The hallway was shadowed by the doors closed on either side, only a few shafts of sunlight spearing through the occasional window.

Ariella hadn't been here before, and it wasn't hard to wonder why. It was on the top floor of the Alpha's estate, through two doors that were obscured by bookcases and antique decor, and down a corridor reserved for servants.

Malachi explained that no one had used it for decades, as the information contained in the offices down the end of the hallway was pivotal to the founding family of the pack, and no one wanted to disturb the history contained there. Why it was all kept a secret, he couldn't say exactly. He'd always been curious, but his father kept dismissing his requests to enter the offices and peruse what he would find. After all, Dennison knew all there was to being an Alpha, and didn't need guidance from musty diaries of previous Alphas. He wanted to remove himself from anyone telling him what to do, and run DoubleEdge his own way.

His son Malachi was the complete opposite. He wanted to know the secrets of the past, and learn from what had worked for centuries. No point inventing the wheel a second time.

So now, he jumped at the chance of exploring it with his future Luna by his side.

Ariella had explained briefly of her nightmares after his prodding and comforting assurances, and they didn't sound all too dissimilar to his own. Once she got started on sharing her innermost thoughts, he watched her crumble, her strong front finally cracking to reveal how deeply she felt things. She always appeared so brave and confident, but he now realised she had been hiding her true feelings, trying to earn a good reputation of being strong and fierce no matter what others said or did around her.

When inside, perhaps she was just as scared as him.

"So according to the whispers, this office of my great-great-great-grandfather has documents and diaries that detail the founding of the pack," he commented as he paused outside the largest, mahogany door at the end of the hall, the frame gilded in elegant scrollwork.

"Sounds interesting, but what's this got to do with our dreams?" Ariella peered around his arm to see the door, her warm breath tingling the fine hairs on his bare skin.

"My grandmother used to tell me stories before she passed away. She said that one of the Alphas—maybe her grandpa, I'm not sure which generation—had dreams. Dark ones, full of death and suffering. They started plaguing him a few months before trouble really began. His pack, over a number of years, then began fighting with an enemy that kept crossing his borders."

"Another pack?"

"No. There were a lot more alliances back in those days."

"So, rogues?'

"Not quite. Legend says the enemy would appear out of nowhere, stalking the pack members beneath cloaks like invisibility, then striking when the fear of them had reached its peak. They hunted the wolves for sport."

He felt her bristle and take a quick breath before saying her next guess.

"Demons?" She entwined her fingers around his arm and hovered close.

"Maybe. My ancestor's pack battled for years, always coming up with new ways to trap the dark intruders. It was all the more difficult when some of the pack members would actually welcome the creatures in hopes of receiving power or some other secret mysteries.

Finally the fighting settled down, whether the strange creatures left, or were beaten, no one is sure. The stories were buried, only talked of in hushed whispers, and never in front of the Alphas. They wanted to forget it ever happened, my grandma said. Why, she could only guess. Blackmail and bribes were as common as alliances, so maybe everyone was just afraid of things unseen."

"That's not a good reason to ignore what's going on," Ariella commented, a tremor in her voice.

"We can say that now, but we weren't there. These creatures had the power to steal your breath while you slept, or plague you with blindness, or turn your blood vessels to ash so you bled to death in a heartbeat." Malachi said in a flat voice. "This is only according to my grandma, who didn't believe the legends. I think she was just annoyed at her arrogant son and wanted him to come up here to finally satisfy her curiosity, or put to rest the ghost stories."

"Put to rest, or awaken."

Malachi glanced down at Ariella, at her pale lips and the light sheen of sweat on her upper lip. His own hands felt clammy just thinking about the possibilities of what might be fact or fiction. "Whatever it is, are you sure you want to find out?"

She pushed back her shoulders and lifted her chin in determination, a look entering her eyes that had him admiring her all the more. This woman was going to make a magnificent Luna. "I'm willing to face anything to find the truth. Besides, what's there to be scared of in an old, unused office?"

He nodded in agreement, more for his sake than hers. His hand trembled slightly as he inserted an old skeleton key into the locked door, praying it would work. He'd found the keys in the very bottom of one the drawers in his father's desk, handed down from father to son for multiple generations, untouched by the females in the families.

He wasn't even sure if this was the right key, and had to try a few others on the chain before one finally slid in. Twisting with a loud screech, the tarnished brass handle rattled and unclicked. Malachi pushed it open and his eyes couldn't take in the scene fast enough, so eager was he to see the relics of his ancestors, hidden away for so long by pride and arrogance.

A thick layer of dust covered everything, from the floating bookshelves on the walls, to the globe on a corner table, to the leather upholstery on the armchairs that surrounded a sturdy oak desk. Gold and brass shone from every other surface, their metallic lustre dimmed by years of neglect.

Ariella tentatively stepped in and immediately headed towards the large bookcase that stood proudly against one wall. Pulling out the largest book, she trailed her fingers reverently over the gold-lettered title.

Malachi was more interested in the desk, and the personal artefacts it might contain. Using the keys again, he managed to open the drawers and find a file of papers, a few scrolls, and a leather bound book wrapped close with red twine. He almost felt like he was desecrating the property of his forefathers by opening it, but he needed to know.

What had his grandfathers fought all those years ago? Could the secrets of the past help him unlock his own problems in the present? What if he found an answer he didn't want to accept? What if he revealed some fact that confirmed Ariella's theory, that demons were hiding among them, tearing his pack members apart and poisoning the rest with fear?

What if the evidence all pointed to the prophetic nature of their dreams, that one or both were bound to death and nothing could save them?

"Well, this is interesting." Ariella's hushed whisper mercifully cut off the disturbing questions that kept going round in his head. "I think this is an encyclopedia of the animal kingdom?" she was flipping through a large tome that had gold binding.

He crossed the room to stand by her and pushed air out from is nose, trying to prevent the millions of displaced dust particles crawl up and irritate him. Drawings and descriptions of hundreds of animals and insects filled the pages.

"Looks like you're right." He couldn't see the significance until she began finding pages on extinct or supposed creatures. The fanciful drawings dismissed by most as fiction.

"Maybe someone drew a picture of the elusive enemy all those years ago," she gave a brief explanation for her interest.

"Then you might find better information in a journal like this." He left Ariella to her book and instead began to flip through his ancestor's diary. The handwriting of Alpha Darius was beautiful and scholarly, but in another language. Perhaps his mother could help him translate.

"Bother! I think this book is volume two in the collection. It's missing the first half of the index. Just where I thought I'd find demons and ghosts," Ariella sighed, drawing his attention.

Looking at the book more closely, he wondered why it looked familiar.

"You know, maybe I have volume one in my office. Don't ask me how it got there or who wanted to read it, but I think it's there."

"Can we go check it out?" Ariella looked at him with bright, expectant eyes.

He couldn't say no. After picking up a few more scrolls and documents, he flipped off the antique light switch and closed the door behind them both. It didn't take long to navigate the large Alpha mansion and reach his office on the lower floor, and he immediately went to the bookcase to find the book his eyes had always grazed over and never really noticed.

"Ahh, yes, here we go," he found what he was looking for and slid it out.

"Perfect," Ariella smiled and laid the heavy book on his desk along with the other ones she'd brought from the upper office. While he sat and looked through the scrolls, she flipped through the yellowed pages until she exclaimed in a frustrated voice. "Well! This is just great."

He hurried over and peered around her shoulder. On the page, under the heading of demons/dark spirits, were numerous drawings. All different depictions of what people saw in dreams, glimpsed in the shadows, or described on their deathbed. Some had heads like reptiles and bodies of various predatory mammals. Others had snapping teeth as large as daggers and a serpentine body with wings. Still another was made to look like a harmless sheep, but under the soft wool was the outline of a ravenous wolf.

What really disturbed Malachi was the way the entire page had been scribbled over, pictures crossed out, and words written in the margins.

People are so stupid! one such annotation read.

"Who would write this in an encyclopedia? Did they happen to know what demons really looked like, to be laughing at these sketches?" Ariella mused aloud, echoing the thoughts in Malachi's head.

He had no answer, and instead had other thoughts spinning around, inciting more questions than answers. With a racing heart, he swallowed nervously and didn't dare tell her that the handwriting looked like his mother's.

Why would Seneca comment about demons like this? What else did she know? Thoroughly disturbed, he once more picked up the journals and tried to focus on the words that didn't make any sense.

Ariella slid a bookmark on the page, then went back to perusing his own bookcase, sliding out books and replacing whatever didn't interest her. He was unsure exactly what she was looking for, but he didn't mind letting her look.

He was engrossed in a map of old boundary lines when he heard her gasp. Watching her bend down and pick up something that had slipped out of a book, he felt her heart rate pick up and her temperature spike.

She held the piece of paper between her fingers for a moment, her throat bobbing as she swallowed. When her eyes flicked nervously to his, he knew she'd come across something sensitive.

"Violet," she murmured, causing Malachi to leap from his chair and snatch the paper from her hands.

It was a photograph of young Violet on her fifth birthday, wrapped in her mother Krystal's arms. Their blue eyes had matching sparkle as they reflected candlelight from a cake, their blonde hair sunkissed with streaks of gold.

The smiles on their faces sent an ache straight through Malachi's heart. Though he'd never known Krystal, Violet had always spoken of her mother with the best kind of love. The day she'd died had been the darkest the pack had experienced.

"Who is she?"

Ariella's question brought him back to the moment, and he concealed the photo in his pocket. After a moment of steadying his voice, he spoke, "You're asking with an accusation in your question. What is it you're expecting me to say?" He instantly grew defensive when he saw the frown between her eyes, and could only guess what she was thinking. How did she even know of Violet? Why was he sensing subtle tones of anger in her posture?

"That she means something to you." She pinned him in place with her eyes, her glance daring him to deny it.

"She does," he breathed into the air between them, his lungs deflating with the admission.

Watching the way her jaw tightened, he wasn't anticipating a good response.

"In what way?" One of her eyebrows rose delicately. He could almost feel a simmering undercurrent of jealousy, the kind he felt when watching Hendrik or Hamilton get too close to her.

Loosely shrugging, he hesitated to find a good answer. He didn't want to talk about this now. He wasn't ready to share this part of his past with Ariella, though she had made it clear she wanted to know everything about him. But even the messy family history? Didn't she know enough about Dennison and his injurious ways to despise his family and want to keep far away?

Yet still she remained. The more he told her of his father and the mistakes that had hurt his pack, the closer she would creep into his heart and mend the cracks with her care and kindness.

It wasn't fair, when she barely knew the truth about him.

"We were close. We grew up here together," he eventually said, holding her gaze carefully, watching her every movement and subtle sign that she was listening. "Violet loved me and I loved her. That's why it nearly broke me when she went missing about five years ago," his breath hitched at the memory of emptiness that had engulfed him. "We later found out she had been murdered."

Ariella's entire demeanor changed. Shoulders deflated, brows creased up with compassion, and her hand reached out to take his own.

"Malachi, that's horrible! I'm so sorry. It must have been so hard for you."

Her touch sent a warmth so comforting seeping into his skin, he had to look at their hands to make sure a fire hadn't sparked between them. "It was. It was hard on the entire pack. Losing her mom all those years ago, and then Violet..." he blinked back the tears that dared form in his eyes, and cursed himself for still feeling the loss so deeply. "It also completely altered the course of my life. With her being the firstborn, all the responsibility then fell to me—"

"Wait. Responsibility? Firstborn?" Ariella's grip on his hand tightened as she echoed his words as though lost in confusion.

"Oh, did I not mention? She was my sister."

Ariella's face couldn't have gone more blank if she had been knocked unconscious. Then it scrunched up in question, and almost a hint of relief. "H-how?"

By looking at her bewildered expression, he realised none of this fragmented story made any sense for her. He decided to start from the start seeing as so much of it had already been laid out for her to know. Taking her hand, he sat down with her on the loveseat by the western window, morning sunshine spilling all around them.

"Luna Krystal was Dennison's soulmate. They ruled this pack together for many years before Violet was born. I think the story goes, they had trouble having pups at first so they were overjoyed to finally give birth to a daughter. But then, Krystal got cancer and died a while later. Violet was only six years old, heartbroken, and lost.