53

"Guys, we don't have time for this," Malachi shuts us down with a harsh whisper as he straightens his jacket and readies himself to go up on stage. "Just let her do what she wants. She won't listen to you anyway if you try to tell her otherwise."

His words sting, but my heart has a shell over it now. A hard, protective exterior that is doing more to keep it from breaking than shielding it from their insults.

I can't help feeling I deserve them anyway.

Hamilton gives me one more glance, his lips pressed tightly together, before taking up position next to his Alpha. Harlow steps up on his other side, and I am left to hover on the outer after I place my flower upon the stacked logs that form the pyre.

My lips tremble as Malachi recounts to the solemn crowd the events of last night, how they were on their way home when they were surrounded by rogues. He tried everything in his power to diffuse the situation calmly, but when it seemed like a fight was inevitable, he and his men were determined to protect themselves and this pack.

The rogues outnumbered them, but the warriors were close to finishing them when one pulled a gun and fired a single silver bullet at Malachi. Before it could pierce him, one of Malachi's faithful guards threw himself in the bullet's path.

"Today, we honour the sacrifice given to save my life. In a moment when I was vulnerable, and at the mercy of our enemies..." Malachi's voice breaks and I ache to hold his hand in comfort. "When I could've been killed, he gave his own life in his loyalty to protect this pack. Jasper proved that he is the bravest hero of us all. Today, I give my utmost gratitude and honour..."

Jasper.

The name reaches my ears and I gasp, quickly covering my mouth as the identity of the warrior who had been killed becomes clear to me. "Jasper?" I look at the pyre as a tear slides down my cheek. Then the implications of this hit me.

"Samson! Oh no..." My sudden realisation earns me the contemptful glares of those who heard me, but I ignore them and look around among the young pups but can't see him.

Why isn't Sammy here for his own father's ceremony? Malachi catches my eye and frowns, a look that questions and rebukes at once. But I shake my head and turn, walking away from the wolves who detest my presence anyway.

As if my guilt couldn't run any deeper, a little boy is now without a father. He's probably been taken in by kind neighbours since his dad didn't come last night, but I have to be sure. I hurry down the road that winds through the shops and houses, and make my way to the outer edge of the pack residences. My steps quicken when his house comes into view, and I'm nearly running by the time I bound up the steps and knock on the door.

No one answers, but that doesn't bring relief like it should. Sammy could be elsewhere, or... or he could be inside all by himself. My instinct pushes for the latter, so I shove my shoulder against the door and crack the lock in my hands. It swings open smoothly on the recently oiled hinges, and as I step inside I'm greeted with a stale smell of burnt food.

"Sammy? Are you home?" I call out, and walk carefully through the living room. It looks very much the same as when I first saw it, but neater. Cleaner. As if Jasper had been making an effort to keep this place homely. It tugs on my heart, and I can't help the tear that escapes my eye.

Dashing it away, I step into the kitchen. This is the source of the musty smells, and I see dirty bowls and plates on the benchtop, a few pots on the stove, and food wrappers littered on the table and shelves. "Sammy?"

A small sniffling noise catches my ears, and I hurry around the island. "Sammy! Oh, my darling boy!" I kneel down in front of the huddled figure in the corner and reach out to him. He looks at me with his wide brown eyes, rimmed in red, and darkened with a pitiful frown.

"I couldn't reach the flour in the pantry. And when I tried to climb up on a chair, I knocked the eggs off the shelf... and.. And I tried making pancakes like you showed me, but I couldn't. I made a big mess. I'm so sorry, Luna."

"Oh, Sammy, don't be sorry," I gather him into my arms and look around at the broken eggs on the floor, at the bowls on the shelf with dried mix staining them, at the melted butter block on the sink, and the crumbs that cling to Sammy's clothes.

"I finished all the cereal, but Daddy hasn't come home yet and I didn't have anything else to eat."

"Sammy, it's okay." I whisper and stroke his hair. No one has come for him and told him about his dad? They've left this little boy alone for a few days since Jasper left, and no one is caring for him?

Why didn't I know about this sooner? "Everything is going to be okay." The empty words are like an acid churning in my stomach.

"Have you heard from my dad? Did he work hard with Alpha? Is he coming home soon?" Sammy turns his innocent eyes to me, and I know I can't tell him anything but the truth.

"Sammy, your father.... Your father did his job very well for Alpha Malachi. But...he won't be coming home."

His eyes widen, and I feel his little body tense up. I rub his arms soothingly and continue. "On the way back from their journey, there was an attack. By rogues. The rogues tried to kill the Alpha, but your daddy stopped them. He saved the Alpha's life. He was very brave and loyal, and fought the hardest he could. He gave his own life to protect the Alpha and this pack. He died protecting us all."

Sammy doesn't cry out or scream that it can't be true. He doesn't jump up and run outside, looking for his father. He just stares calmly at the cabinet doors that I lean against, and nods. I notice his lips tremble and his eyes rim with glistening tears, and my heart breaks for him.

"Like your mummy and daddy. They died saving you from rogues. Now mine did the same too," he eventually says in a whisper.

I hold him to my chest tighter, not trusting my own voice as a sob rises inside me. "Yes. They loved us so much, and didn't want anyone hurting us. You must always remember your dad as a hero. A very strong and brave hero."

I finally realise that I owe Jasper a debt for saving my mate's life. In my own guilt and misery, agonising over my own actions last night, I haven't stopped to realise just how close Malachi was to losing his life. Jasper not only saved the Alpha, he saved me too, and our pack.

Sammy and I sit on the kitchen floor for a while longer, each of us dealing with the grief in our own way. When we are ready, I set him on a chair and go about tidying the kitchen. We make fresh pancakes, and then I decide to put the rest of the house in better order. I put a load of washing on in the machine and then sweep the place, afterwards finding a vacuum to clean the carpet. Sammy helps me, and we open the windows right up to allow fresh air to displace the musty atmosphere inside.

We are done by mid-afternoon, and I get an idea.

"Would you like to come to my place for a sleepover?" I can't bear to leave him here all by himself, and it seems that others in the pack aren't concerned for him like they should be.

His eyes light up, a small smile replacing the forlorn expression he's been wearing all day.

"Sure! Let me pack my bag." He races to his room and in no time is ready to leave with me.

We walk to the Alpha's estate and pass the town centre, and all that remains of the ceremony are some chairs and scattered flowers, drifting over the paved stones with lingering bits of ash. Sammy looks over the place with an odd expression, perhaps wondering why everyone forgot about him.

This little boy, a forgotten orphan, tightens his grip on my hand and hurries out of the square and down the path that leads to my place.

"This is gonna be fun!" he grins up at me, his face once more radiant like usual, as we enter the mansion and he sets his bags down in the living room.

"It sure is. We can watch movies and eat popcorn, and read books or play games and even have midnight snacks," I catch his infectious grin and force myself to push aside the issues that precipitated Sammy being here. "Do you want to come up to the guest bedroom? You can unpack your pjs and put your books on the bedside table."

"Can't we sleep in here? I've never been to a real sleepover and I want to do it here in the living room like everyone else does," he asks, and I can't deny him anything.

"Of course we can, Sammy. Maybe even some of your other friends can come too. Would you like me to invite Jarrell and his brother? I'm sure—"

"Well, look at this."

I spin around at the steely voice that carves away the excitement from the room like a butcher's knife. "Luna Seneca. We were just—"

"So now you're bringing strays into my home?"

At first I am shocked by her cold words that are devoid of all feeling except ridicule, but then I feel anger bubble up and it spills before I care to stop it. "Sammy is an amazing young pup, so I won't let you call him anything besides. His father just died protecting your son."

Besides, this is now my home also, I feel like adding.

Seneca steps into the room and I try matching her powerful demeanor, with shoulders back and spine straight. Yet her words will never do anything except cut me down. "His father just died because you betrayed my son."

I should've known she'd hate me more than anything now. After our good conversations the last few days, I thought we were bonding, growing closer. Evidently not.

But I can't argue with the truth of her words. All I can do is stand my ground and refuse to turn Sammy out. I will comfort this boy who has lost everything, no matter how much it costs me.

Seneca eventually turns to go, sliding her obsidian gaze from me to Sammy who stands behind me warily.

There is nothing you can ever do to make up for this, she whispers into my mind, and I shiver.

She leaves the room chilled and with a heavy presence that lingers, but I purpose to put the smile back on Sammy's sorrowful face.

"Don't mind her. I know she's your Luna and we should respect her for that, but she's also sad about some things. Let's hope she feels better by tomorrow, hey?" I ruffle his hair and tickle his ribs.

"Okay," he laughs.

"Now let's go choose some dvds and make that popcorn. I'll ring Devanshi and see if her brothers want to join us for a movie night."

The rest of the afternoon and evening go well, and the fun activities turn out to be an even better idea than I first planned. They distract all of us from the sad events of the last twenty four hours, and it's only when the others have gone home and I'm tucking Sammy into his makeshift bed on the floor of the living room, that I hear the front door open and the anxiety creeps back in.

I go to the foyer and quietly watch as Malachi comes in and closes the door behind him. He stands there for a moment, and I watch his shoulders deflate as he sighs before he turns and notices I'm here.

"Ariella."

"Malachi." My throat is suddenly dry, heart hammering against my ribs.

He tilts his head. "You have company?" The way his eyebrow lifts is a cue as to what he's thinking. That perhaps I am betraying him again.

"Jasper's son, Sammy, had no one to take care of him. I thought he could stay here with us for a while until we sort things out."

He follows me to the living room, and watches the little orphaned pup sleeping on the floor with a contented smile on his face.

Without a word, Malachi just stands in the doorway and I wish with all my heart I knew what he was thinking. I feel like screaming at this wall between us, demanding it crumble and allow us to feel again. To feel the bond that should be pulling us together, despite everything around us tearing us apart.

Malachi turns to me, his eyes sliding from mine to my lips and down to my neck. A frown crinkles his brow, and he lifts his hand tentatively.

Sparks cascade across my skin as his fingers brush over my throat, the plasters that cover the wounds.

I know that red claw marks are still visible on my skin, and I watch as Malachi's eyes fill with regret and something else. Something darker. The emotion should be familiar, but this is different. A little rougher and angsty, more intimate and personal. The light touch of his fingers on my skin tell me many things.

An apology. A promise. Revenge against those who did this to me.

A shiver overtakes me at the quiet strength this Alpha male projects. I shudder as my thoughts wander to all the things he could be planning right now.

Then he drops his hand and looks away, breaking our momentary connection, and I see a mask of indifference steal over his face once more.

"Samson can stay, but only until we find a family to adopt him," Malachi finally says, and my heart breathes a sigh of relief.

"Thank you. I knew you'd understand."

But I spoke too soon. For when he turns to me again, Malachi's deep blue eyes are cold, filled with a touch of contempt. "Looks like you had fun tonight. You're caring for him like a true Luna would. But I want to ask you something.

Aren't you going to tell him the truth about his father? That it's because of you he was killed?"

I am shocked by his words, though I should have been expecting them. It seems Malachi hasn't let go of this intense disapproval of my actions.

"Is that how you see it? That it's all because of me? An Alpha and his command can't fight against a small group of rogues, and suddenly it's all my fault?" I realise my argument may not be so reasonable, but neither is his.

"Did you or did you not tell them where I was? The mission I didn't even want to tell you about, but I did. I thought, I should trust Ariella with this at least. Then you go and prove me wrong by selling me out to the enemy." His eyes flash, but his voice remains low and controlled. We are both conscious of the sleeping pup not three meters from where we stand.

I meet Malachi's gaze and pointedly walk out of the room, padding to the office down the hall.

"You were somewhere between here and the Justice Pack, that's all I knew," I begin again. "That is countless miles of land area, so was I really giving much away to the rogues?"

"You gave into them!" he pounds one fist into the other, showing me a small fraction of his frustration and hurt. "I don't care how small it may have been this time, you gave into their demands and next time it will be worse. Now they all know you are a weak pushover."

"Is that what you really think of me?" I raise my eyebrows in opposition to the sinking of my heart. "That I'm just weak and pathetic? I knew how strong you and your men were! I believed you could handle them—" my words stutter to a stop when I see him come close to rolling his eyes. "You know what? I don't even know why we're discussing this. The fact of the matter is, I saved Alpha Chesca who was defenceless, in labour, and giving birth in the middle of some cold, God-forsaken wasteland riddled with killer rogues."

With newfound determination, I meet his gaze and refuse to be ridiculed for the good I did last night. "I protected her and Hunter. I saved their lives."

"At what cost?" He interrupts, stepping closer to me and I can feel his warm breath coast along my face. "My men and I were ambushed. Attacked. We didn't all make it out alive."

"You fought your hardest! What more could have been done?" Backing up as he advances, I'm only vaguely conscious of the wall that greets my back.

"Did I? Did I fight? There is a monster inside me that could've torn them all to shreds with a snap of my fingers." He raises a hand and clicks his fingers, but despite the predatory gleam in his eyes, I don't think this 'monster' inside him is as bad as he makes out. It's not some entity beside him that takes over when it chooses. As much as I hate to concede, I think it is entwined with his soul, along with the will of an angel.

"So why didn't you? Why didn't you use this monster to your advantage?"

"Seriously? You're saying I should've just let loose and slain them all?"

"If you killed the rogues who attacked you first, what's so bad—"

"Who said I would've stopped there? What if I turned on my own men and killed them too?" He looks at me, filled with self-doubt and restraint. I can tell he fears his own strength, his own inability to command it at will.

"You would never do that. You told me yourself that you've only hurt those who deserve it. Perverts. Molesters. Killers."

"That's when I'm in control. When I have a semblance of control," he amends. "I can't just control it like that so easily. It's like I'm a completely different person and I have no idea what I'm doing. Don't you remember, I told you that too?"

After throwing me an exasperated glance, he walks to a small side table and lifts a crystal bottle, then fills a glass with the amber liquid inside. In one swift motion, he throws his head back and swallows the drink in a few hasty gulps. The scent of the strong alcohol fills the room and dizzies my senses, causing me to narrow my eyes on him in concern.

"So that's why you've been practicing with Hamilton to control it. You're stronger at holding the reins and not hurting those you care about. I've given you space. I've let you deal with it. But now, the time it mattered most, you just shut down and let your men get hurt?" I know I am deflecting my own guilt, maybe putting too much expectation or blame on him, but it feels so good to talk about this and get it out in the open.

"Is that what you think? That after just a few weeks of realising I'm the killer, I can now magically control that side of me?" His voice rises and I think I see crimson flecks appear in his irises.

My heart begins racing, my lungs pulling in air quickly as he comes close again, his footfalls accentuating his words until he is in front of me.

Toe to toe. Chest to chest. His tainted breath suffocating me. "I can't afford to risk it, Ariella. I can't afford to lose control! I should never even unleash this for a fraction of a moment!" He slams his fist in the wall above my head.

His hot breath slams into me, curling the wisps of hair around my face and blowing them into my eyes. I release my own breath, smoothly and calmly, forcing myself to keep my eyes on his, my attention on every minuscule movement he makes.

His jaw clenches, his left eye twitches, and his brows scrunch as he takes a ragged breath.

Sliding my hand up his chest, I rest it over his heart and feel the rhythmic beat that syncs with my own hammering muscle behind my ribs. We are breathing heavily, sharing air, staring into each other's eyes in an endless gaze that speaks more than words ever could. I like to believe he reads in my own eyes the deep feelings I have for him, in spite of this colossal wall he keeps erecting between us.

"I want to understand, Malachi. And I want you to understand me." The words choke out from my constricted throat, the ache making my tongue thick and heavy. "But I can't if you don't talk to me. I want to know. I need to know what you're going through and how I can help you—"

He shakes his head and steps back, letting my hand slip down and hang by my side.

But I push on bravely. "I'm sorry that you got hurt last night as a consequence of what I did. I feel dreadful and will always blame myself that Jasper was killed. So please. Please, don't make it worse."

He turns away from me, his face hidden in shadows, his broad back eclipsing the torn expression.

Despite feeling the cold once more creep over me, I continue, "I hate this fight between us. I hate.... I hate fighting you, Malachi." The words rush out in a whisper and I'm not even sure he heard them, but his shoulders angle slightly towards me, and I'm praying he turns around full circle to see the way I feel, the way words can never describe.

"I need more time, Ariella. You know that."

I nod, then say, "I do. Your birthday. I know you said to wait until then and somehow things will straighten out. But... but did you know it's also a full moon that night?"

He spins around suddenly and stares at me in surprise, the blue of his irises flaring brightly. We both know the implications of this. "Full moon? For goodness' sake..." he takes a deep breath then releases a string of curses. Picking up the glass he'd just emptied, he hurls it against the wall with enough force to make me flinch.

The harsh tinkling noise of shattered glass falling to the floor fills the silence that follows after his outburst.

Clenching my fists does nothing to ease my pent up frustration or fears.

A few tense moments pass before he says in a deflated voice, "Maybe you should just stay with your parents for a little while." His heavy words are accompanied by him sinking onto the loveseat by the window, and I stand shocked for a moment.

Then I am crossing the room and sitting beside him. "Malachi, I am not leaving you now. You have to believe that." I tuck my legs under myself and face him. "You have to believe me. Not tomorrow, not the day after. We've come this far together and I am not leaving you."

He turns his face away, wincing at what I am saying, but I reach out and place both hands on his face, gently turning him back toward me. "Call me stubborn, but I'm choosing you. Your fears, your flaws, your doubts and unknowns. All of you. I want to make you mine and show the pack exactly where my loyalty lies. With you."

He looks at me with such tenderness in his azure blue eyes, yet such angst creasing his forehead that my heart aches with his, even without being connected through a physical bond. My sight goes beyond the reality of this moment and I see the turmoil in his mind.

I just want to take it all away. I want to share in the pain he is feeling and lighten the darkness he is going through.

I want to mark him and become one with his heart.

He reaches out at the same time I lean forward, and our lips meet somewhere halfway. The softness of his lips is contrasted by the rough, unshaven feel of his cheek as it presses against mine. He breaks the kiss to take a deep breath, the movement sending shivers spiraling over my skin.

Then his lips find mine again, his hand tangling in my hair while the other snakes around my waist and tugs me closer.

I fall against his chest and brace my hands on his shoulders before sliding them up around his neck. The feel of his corded shoulder muscles giving way to the silky smooth hair on his head is fascinating me, exciting me, and I kiss him deeper. I want him to know exactly how much I want him. How much I need him.

My fingers trail down one side of his neck, and I feel the flutter of his pulse. It grows, becoming stronger, more rapid, as I kiss along his jaw and down his neck.

With a racing heart that matches his, I taste his skin between my teeth, nipping, kissing, marveling in the warmth under my touch.

"Ariella..." His own kisses grow insistent as he breathlessly whispers my name in my ear, his breath caressing me in the most gentle way.

"I love you, Malachi. And nothing is going to change that fact. Nothing can change the bond between us. Nothing can alter our destiny."

The words just slip past my lips without much thought, yet with my entire heart behind them.

His reaction is instant. Jerking back, he stares at me with panic in his once lust-filled eyes.

"What is it? Malachi?" My hands are still on his face, my thumbs caressing his cheeks.

With a blink, then another, he shakes his head. "Hamilton... he mind-linked me. It's an emergency." He sits up, making me tumble from his lap, but his hands grip my elbows and keep me upright.

"But we'll talk about this later. Right?" I peer up at my mate, at his dark fringe that falls over his eyes briefly before I brush it back. I can't let him walk away after what I just confessed.

I love him.

He swallows hard, and I know he is refraining from running out immediately, giving me one more moment instead of completely ruining what we just had.

"Of course," he breathes, his eyes snagging on my neck. The same look of agony from earlier tonight crosses his face, as his fingers gently brush over the cuts that are hidden by brown band-aids. I can only hold my breath and wonder what he is thinking.

Then, as if snapping himself from a daze, he pulls me close. With a tight hug that I never want to end, and a kiss on top of my head, he leaves with a rush of air, black haze blooming in the space around me.