68

"Thank you, my sweet mate. I've done nothing to deserve you," he pecks my lips and looks at me earnestly, a contrite expression swirling in his eyes.

I lift my hand and cup his cheek. "It's not about what we deserve, but what we do with the blessings we've been given."

He nods slowly, pondering this, then his gaze sharpens on me. "Still, you have been so good to me and I can never make it up. I will treat you right every day of your life. Every moment we have together, I will spend it telling you how precious you are to me. Ariella, all this time..." his voice cracks, and he swallows thickly.

"You don't have to say anything," I murmur, understanding him beyond words.

But he shakes his head and continues, "These last few months, I tried so hard to hide how I really felt for you. I knew I was too dangerous, too dark and volatile to have you in my life. I didn't want to hurt you. I couldn't let you get close because I didn't want you getting caught up in my family's dark history. But it seems I failed miserably. You wouldn't stay away no matter how cold I was towards you. And though a part of me hated that you were so loyal, the rest of me was happy that you never gave up or walked away from me. I wanted you desperately. I wanted to have you as my best friend, someone I could share my heart with, but I couldn't trust my heart to not break you. I was so lost, so confused with everything my mom was telling me. I wouldn't have been able to bear it if our dark secrets ruined the light you shined with so brightly."

Malachi stops to take a breath, and I feel like I'm going to melt into a soft puddle of tears if he goes any further. His words wash over me, strengthening my heart and warming my soul. I press my head to his chest, my ear over his heart, and listen to the erratic thump of the muscle.

But it is more than that. I feel, somehow, that his heart is different. The horrible darkness is absent, allowing him to finally be good and honest with me. I know now what the King meant by Malachi having changed. All those dark dreams I had of his heart ceasing to beat, of his soul bleeding into cold oblivion, are no longer a vision of what might be. My death, my sacrifice to save his life, has broken the dark curse of the demon that ran in his veins. Somehow, my persistent and foolishly loyal love has set him free.

"As long as your heart is beating, I'm happy. There's hope for us yet," I tell him with a knowing smile.

He leans down and places a soft kiss on my cheek, his eyes smiling in gratitude, unfallen tears glistening on the lower rims.

I take a deep breath and look around me, sitting up further with Malachi's help. I see a few of the fallen wolves around us, making my heart ache a little. I know it's not my fault, but death will always be a waste and I will always hurt from it.

Aside from the darkness and pain that still lingers in the air in this dreadful clearing, around me on the ground is a beautiful sight. The early morning sunlight fights to break through the dense fog, and illuminates a few dozen flowers laid amongst the leaves and bracken. The colourful petals are bright against the dull browns and blacks, and their floral scents linger in the cool air. I turn a questioning look to Malachi.

"They wanted to mourn you and pay their respects. Everyone knows you liked—like— flowers," he says, his voice catching as he refers to past tense when I was dead.

The import of these flowers, the meaning behind their simple yet profound statement as they lie on the ground around me, slowly sinks in. These warriors showed their sorrow at my death, and their underlying loyalty towards me, and I nearly cry at the heartfelt gesture.

One of them approaches us now, Jett if I recall his name, and he kneels before us with a tight set to his jaw and his fists clenched by his sides. Blood and dirt are smeared over his neck and chest, some wounds still seeping as his muscled body quickly begins to heal.

I feel Malachi begin to vibrate with a strong emotion, and his arm pulls me closer against him. "Jett, back away. Don't dare come closer. I know what you really thought of Ariella," he speaks harshly, and I watch as Jett's brave posture crumples.

"I'm sorry, Alpha. Honestly, I am. We all doubted Ariella's loyalty, but I can see now how wrong we were. Ariella...Luna," he glances at me before bowing his head. I see his brown eyes are filled with remorse. "I will always submit to you. I will fight for you every chance remaining in my life." He presses his hand to his chest, his fingers in a fist, and I recognise the symbol of fealty. More warriors approach and kneel beside him, and I feel Malachi radiate with jealous possessiveness as they all look at me with shining eyes.

I sigh, realising I'll have to get used to Malachi now being overtly protective of me. Honestly, it feels good being so wanted. His claim on my neck tingles, and my own body shivers in anticipation of giving him my own mark and claiming my Alpha mate for all to see.

"Ariella? Oh, my baby girl, you're alive!"

The anguished cry startles us all, and I look beyond the warriors to see my parents rushing towards us. Both Charles and Lexi look distraught, disheveled, yet immensely relieved to see me.

They are only a few metres away now when a low growl from Malachi turns deadly. I look up to see him glaring with a warning at my parents.

"Malachi, it's okay," I slide my hand around the back of his neck, trying to soothe him. "They're my parents. They're not going to hurt me."

"Your father might want to take you away from me. And he has every right to," Malachi looks at me sadly, and I realise what he means. I died on his territory by his mother's hand. No sane wolves would let their daughter remain as mate to the heir of her killer.

But I shake my head, refusing to let anyone come between us. "I won't let them. I'm staying with you, and nothing is going to pull me away from my destiny. From our destiny." After pressing my forehead to his until he calms down, we both turn to my parents who are watching us carefully, Charles alert and wary of the volatile Alpha clutching me to himself, and Lexi wringing her fingers with impatience. She is desperate to embrace me, and I can't deny the maternal bond pulling us together.

"Mom, Dad, I'm okay. You wouldn't believe what happened—" I barely get the words out as I reach my arms to them, before Lexi runs forwards and throws her arms around me.

A shock like electricity tears through us, and we both pull back gasping. Her face is white for a moment before blood seeps back to its normal location. Mom stares at me with wide eyes as we both try and fathom what just happened. "Are you sure you're okay?" She finds her voice first and reaches for me again, slowly and tentatively as if I might not be myself.

I nod shakily, and clasp her fingers. This time, the usual warmth and tingle of our familial bond passes between us. "I was dead, but I came back. God brought me back, so I guess you could say I'm more than okay," I laugh, the sound coming out more like a choked sob. Dad joins our embrace and I see tears slipping from his eyes. He is normally so strong and unshakable, so seeing him this emotional leaves me rattled.

"We felt the bond breaking. We knew you were dying, and we couldn't..." his voice cracks, and I snuggle further into his comforting arms to reassure him that I'm alright.

"We ran here as fast as we could, but there were so many rogues in our way. We knew we were too late when we felt your soul vanish. Our awareness of you just disappeared, and it was the most horrible thing in the world. I can't believe you're really alive now," Mom tells me in a thin voice, threaded with pain and grief, and all I can do is hug them both tighter and pray we'll all recover from the tragic events that turned out like none of us expected.

I step back when I feel Malachi's large hand rest on the middle of my back, and I turn into his arms and give him a watery smile. He gives my dad one more dark look before relenting and accepting his outstretched hand.

I beam with happiness as I watch the stern Beta and fierce Alpha clasp forearms in mutual respect.

But something else catches my eye. I see a quiet and tearful Harlow kneeling by her brother's prone body, her shoulders heaving occasionally from silent sobs.

"Is he..." I begin to ask, not daring to believe that Hamilton is dead. It would be too painful to lose someone who has become as dear to me as a brother, despite the fact he probably still doesn't trust me.

Besides, I have to give him back his father's watch.

"No, he is alive, but barely. He's lost a lot of blood," Malachi answers quietly, his voice rough. "There isn't much we can do for him, even if the pack doctor was here." There is a grave sombreness in his voice, and hopelessness sinks its claws in my chest once again.

As I look again at the sorrowful scene before me, I see Gabriella approach from the cover of trees and stand over the young Beta. Harlow doesn't look up, and I finally know why no one ever notices my friends. They don't see the angelic spirits like I do.

Gabby gives me a small smile before sinking to her knees beside Harlow. She then lays a hand on Hamilton's bared and blood-covered chest, her body shivering slightly at the contact. Closing her eyes, her lips begin moving and I close my own eyes and join her in prayer for the injured warrior. It will take nothing short of a miracle to heal him.

Suddenly Harlow gasps, the sound making me and Malachi quickly look up in time to see Hamilton arch his back before convulsing into a fit of coughing. His body trembles, but then he takes a deep, steady breath and I can almost see the colour return to his pale face‍. Despite the deep wounds on his torso and the scratches around his neck, he stands to his feet and looks at his body in disbelief. The wounds are healing, disappearing under soft pink skin that will surely remain scarred.

Gabby's eyes twinkle and she winks at me, then moves on to the next injured warrior. Though she is helping to heal many here this morning, I feel in my heart that what passed between her and Hamilton was significant.

I look back at my mate who is staring astounded, and run my hand down his chest in an affectionate manner. A sense of calm fills me despite the losses we have suffered. We will move through this tragedy and maybe even grow stronger because of it. With God's help, we will overcome this.

"Malachi, your tattoo...!" I exclaim when my eyes follow the path of my fingers down his chest and abdominals, and see a large section of skin over his ribs that is clear of any ink. Between the great winged Karalax sketch and the miscellfolia flower, is a space where his first tattoo should be.

My fingers trace the bare skin, his slightly brushing my knuckles as he takes my hand in his own.

"What happened to it?" he asks, equally confused, his breath rushing out in an uncontrolled and shaky exhale.

"Joaquina might know."

Malachi and I both swivel to face the speaker, and as Knight comes into view, Malachi clutches me tightly into his side.

"I told you to leave, and that we'd talk later. How dare you remain here," the young Alpha snarls, his voice an octave deeper, and I pat his hand in a gentle warning to calm down.

"Caleb Knight! We should have known you'd be a part of this! You disgusting traitor!" Mom hisses as she and Dad both rush to restrain him.

He doesn't fight, instead allowing them to push him to his knees and lock his arms behind his back. "I'm sorry," Knight bows his head in submission to the Alpha. "But I had to see for myself that Ariella was alive. I couldn't believe the impossible rumour. Her death.." he chokes, his throat strangled as though my dying really cut him deep. Despite his betrayal against me, I can see he had truly come to care for me. Now, free from Seneca's control over him, he can see how much I've come to mean to him.

"I couldn't bear the knowledge you had died," he addresses me. "The miracle of your coming back to life is phenomenal. You can lock me up for the rest of my life, exile me to the most barren desert, or even hang me for my crimes, yet I will be at peace knowing you live again. Your kind soul is needed in this world, Luna Ariella. Your light needs to shine in every single corner of darkness and banish it forever." With his head bowed, Knight drops his shoulders forward in complete surrender to me and Malachi.

"I thank you for your kind words, Caleb Knight. But only the King has the power to banish Lucius and his dark army of demons." I think back to the righteous fury in the King's heart and fists, and I know I can only play a small role in fighting against the darkness in this land. "And Malachi is right. We will discuss what your sentence for your crimes will be later. Now, tell us what you know about Malachi's tattoo," I demand, and Malachi tightens his arm around my waist at the new power I force into my tone. I feel the natural authority ripple through me, and even some other wolves that stand by lower their heads in submission.

"When Ariella had the knife buried in her chest, and took her last breath, I saw the tattoo swirling on the Alpha's skin. The ink seemed to come alive, then it condensed. It thinned and turned to something like ash before disintegrating and blowing away like Seneca and her allies did."

I begin to feel a heavy uneasiness at Knight's words, as I piece together the implications of them. I feel Malachi take a sharp breath and hold it as he waits for Knight to continue.

"It was done in special ink?" Knight asks as though needing full clarification before telling us everything he knows.

"Yes," Malachi replies steadily, but I detect a hint of hesitation and uncertainty in his voice.

"That ink came from Seneca, from beyond the realm of this world. I know she gave it to Joaquina to use for her art. You will have to ask that shewolf herself what makes the ink so special."

"I never did like Joaquina," Ariella mumbled as she walked up the short hill to the cottage nestled at the crest.

"So I noticed," Malachi responded grimly from her side. Both were recalling the time Joaquina had nearly forced a tattoo on Ariella, causing her to flee with a numbness paralyzing her body in a mystifying way.

Now, hand in hand, they ascended the wooden porch steps and knocked solidly on Joaquina's front door.

The artistic shewolf opened it a moment later, her eyes wide and hair wild, as if she'd barely gotten any sleep overnight and instead stayed up, afraid for her life as rogues and demons attacked throughout the territory during the eerie lunar eclipse. Ariella wondered why she hadn't gone with the other shewolves and pups, or came out to fight. Remaining holed up seemed cowardly.

"Joaquina," Malachi addressed her in his powerful Alpha tone. "Tell me about my tattoo. What on earth did you ink me with? Don't try and lie to me, but give it to me straight. What is in that special ink you so fondly like to use?"

She seemed to shrink under his barrage of questions, especially when her eyes were drawn to his bare torso where the absence of her masterpiece was clear for all to see. Stepping back, her mouth quivered as she tried to form answers, but then she threw her shoulders back and looked her Alpha square in the eye. A bold light lit her brown eyes and she narrowed them on him.

"Why don't you come in and I'll give you all the answers you seek," she purred, her voice casting shivers over Ariella's skin.

As they stepped over the threshold into Joaquina's parlour, immediately a heavy presence seemed to weigh on Ariella's shoulders and she found it difficult to breath. Thick aromas of herbs and other scents permeated the room, a heady mix like burning incense. Swallowing down her discomfort, she clutched Malachi's hand tighter and felt him squeeze back in response.

"Come, take a seat," Joaquina offered.

"I'll remain standing. We're not here for long. Just tell us about the ink," Malachi fetched the bottle from the shelf behind her workstation and held it out of her reach, his eyebrows rising in surprise as she reached for it quickly. Before she could snatch it from his grasp, he tossed it to his other hand.

Ariella watched with careful scrutiny as Joaquina's entire body took on a cunning and possessive posture.

"Give it back, and I'll tell you," she bargained with the Alpha, wiggling her fingers as she held his cool stare.

"I don't think so. Tell me now, or I'll have to imprison you for obstruction of the truth and failure to respect your Alpha," Malachi demanded.

Joaquina pursed her lips and crossed her tattooed arms over her chest. "Your mother Seneca gave it to me. It is a very rare and priceless potion from her homeland."

"Her homeland...meaning Hell?" Ariella asked, trying to put the pieces together.

Joaquina's eyes flared, but she bit her lip in neither confirmation nor denial. It was obvious she knew more about the former Luna than she cared to share. "She never said where she actually fled from, just that her father was forcing her into some horrible arrangement and her brother helped her run away. She barely made it out alive."

The way she said it made the story sound so sad and pitiful, but Ariella knew better. She'd heard first hand from the King about the rebellion led by Lucius, and the choice each angel had made. Seneca had chosen to turn her back on the Creator of the universe, and was banished from the King's presence forever. Fleeing for her life had been a natural consequence when the battle lines were drawn and the loyal angels fought to defend their King's honour and authority.

"That's utter rubbish. But moving on, what is actually in the special ink?" Ariella levelled her own direct stare at Joaquina.

"You'd never believe me if I told you," the artist replied cryptically and evasively.

Ariella felt like strangling her. "You would be surprised what I do and don't believe," she replied forcefully.

"Well, I'm sure you don't really want to know—"

"Tell us now!" Malachi roared, his hand striking out and latching around Joaquina's neck. He didn't crush it tightly, but the threat was there. It was as if he too could sense the darkness swirling about the room, at the atmosphere dripping with malevolence, and wanted to be out of there in as little time as required.

"Okay..." Joaquina squeaked, the sound small and thready as she finally understood the seriousness of the situation. As Malachi's hand loosened on her neck, she spoke tersely, "It is the blood of lost souls. And their bones. Seneca told me...when sinners are sent to the Abyss, their bodies are consumed by the raging fires. To make the potion...their ashes are ground up and mixed with their spilled blood. The resulting ink, when injected onto your skin, ties you to the spiritual realm. It helps in the transition from mortal to a spirit demon. She said it would help you," she gasped, her fingers clawing at Malachi's hand around her neck. Her long nails scraped against his skin, but he didn't react as though he felt the pain.

"You're disgusting," he growled lowly, then released her. Staring at the bottle of ink in his hand, he tried not to be sick from knowing its origins and purposes. "So you knew her plans for me all along."

"I only did what the Luna asked of me," Joaquina struggled to take a deep breath, her eyes glistening with tears and her shoulders shaking, her body bowed in subservience to the Alpha and new Luna.

But Ariella saw through the ruse. "What about the madenolia nectar? Why do you have that here, too?" she reached up to the shelf behind Malachi and plucked the small bottle with the rare blossom etched onto the side.

"Oh, that," Joaquina laughed shakily, waving her hand as if it was no big deal. "That's just a little something I like to give my clients. It helps them relax, you see. Clears their mind so we can read it better."

"It also makes them lose their mind, or don't you care what this poison actually does?" Ariella argued, knowing the true nature of the toxic nectar from her reading of plant guide books.

"Seneca said—"

"Seneca had you falling for all her lies, didn't she," Malachi rumbled quietly, a deadly pitch in his voice.

Ariella glanced at him, concerned for his state of mind. She wondered how he was coping with the horrible truth about his mother. They'd all seen how cruel and ruthless she'd been, yet she was still the woman who'd raised him. And now she was gone. Ariella laid a hand gently on his back, and felt his body angle towards her in subconscious acknowledgment of her calming presence. She knew underneath the anger, he needed comfort.

Taking the madenolia nectar from her hand, Malachi turned back to Joaquina with steely eyes, indifferent to the way her body tensed in fear. "There's only one place for this toxic poison," he said while crossing the room to the small hearth in the corner that Ariella hadn't noticed before. Now she saw small trays set over the flames, vapor rising from the contents, the source of the acrid smell that swirled heavily in the air and toyed with her senses. He threw both bottles into the flames, the glass smashing against the bricks and the liquids feeding the flames like a frenzied lover.

"No!" Joaquina screamed and leapt towards the hearth, unheeding of the heat as she threw her arms in and tried to scrape the ink back out.

Ariella stared in shock as Joaquina mindlessly screeched as flames caught onto her sleeves and raced up her arms. Then Ariella broke into motion, and reached for the crazed shewolf to pull her back from the fire. But Joaquina spun around with surprising strength, her eyes wild and sparkling with crimson flecks as she snarled and jerked away from Ariella.