Chapter 35 You want me
Eva
The journey back to the Hollow was a blur of pain, exhaustion, and a strange, simmering tension that had nothing to do with the fight and everything to do with the blood still drying on my hands. Malach leaned on me, and I let him.
Chloe and Jed flanked us, their gazes fixed on the path ahead, but their attention was on us. I could feel their questions like a physical weight in the air. I didn't have the answers. Or, more accurately, I did, but they were locked behind a door I wasn't ready to open.
The Iron Hollow Pack fell in around us as we approached the mine, their howls of welcome turning to whines of concern as they caught the scent of Malach's blood.
Malach straightened as we entered the main area, shedding my support like a snake shedding its skin. He was still pale, still weak, but he stood on his own two feet.
"Get the healers," he ordered, his voice echoing through the vast space. "And get Jed and Lily settled. Then I want every scrap of intelligence we have on the Goddess's cult on my desk by dawn."
He then looked at me. "You," he said, "With me."
He didn't wait for an answer. He simply turned and walked towards his bedroom. I hesitated, my gaze flicking to Chloe. Her face was unreadable, but there was a new respect in her eyes.
"He's not going to bite, you know," she said, her voice dry. "Not unless you ask him to."
I flipped her off and followed Malach, my boots echoing on the stone floor. The familiar scent of pine and moonshine filled the air. It was beginning to feel less like a threat and more like... home. And that was more terrifying than any cult.
His room was exactly as I remembered it: a huge bed, a desk cluttered with books and maps, but the pile of clothes was new. Mine. The leather jacket I'd been wearing when he took me. The black tank top. My boots. They'd been cleaned, folded, and placed on a chair. It was a gesture that was both incredibly thoughtful and incredibly presumptuous.
He closed the door behind us, the click of the lock loud in the silence. I tensed, my hands automatically going for a weapon I wasn't carrying.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he said, for what felt like the hundredth time. He moved to the bed and sat, wincing slightly. His side was still a mess of blood, but the wound itself was gone, healed over with new, pink skin.
"Could've fooled me," My voice lost its heat. The events of the night had drained me. "You look like you went ten rounds with a freight train."
"It's not the worst I've looked," he said. "And definitely not the worst I've felt." He met my gaze. "You saved my life."
"I didn't have a choice," I said, my voice flat. "You were dying."
"You always have a choice, Evangeline." Every time he uses my full name, it sends a shiver down my spine. "You chose to save me. You chose to give me your blood."
He leaned back on the bed, spreading his legs in a move that was both casual and deeply possessive. "Why?"
I couldn't answer. I didn't know. Or maybe I did, but the words were stuck in my throat, choked by a lifetime of defiance and a newfound, terrifying attachment.
I did the only thing I could. I walked to the chair with my clothes, picked up my jacket, and pulled out my pack of clove cigarettes. I tapped one out, stuck it between my lips, and lit it. The familiar, spicy smoke filled my lungs, calming me.
He watched me, his expression unreadable. I expected a lecture, some alpha-male bullshit about how smoking would kill me. Instead, he just said, "You're bleeding."
I looked down. My palm. I shrugged. "It's nothing."
"It's not nothing," he said, his voice softening. "Come here."
I hesitated, but something in his tone made me obey. I walked to the bed and stood before him. He reached out and took my hand, his fingers closing around my wrist. He brought my palm to his lips, and I braced myself for... something.
He didn't kiss it. He just looked at the cut. Then he licked it.
A jolt of electricity shot through me, hotter and more intense than anything I'd ever felt. The torc around my throat blazed, and a gasp escaped my lips. The world tilted, the scent of pine and moonshine and him overwhelming me.
He looked up, and I saw it then. The wolf in his eyes, silver and hungry. "Do you feel that?" he murmured, his lips still brushing my skin.
I snatched my hand back. "I feel like I need a shower."
He smiled, that slow, predatory smile that made my stomach clench. "Don't lie to me, Eva. I can feel it too. You want me."