The Alpha's Daydream

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 amended. “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 dainty 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 tangles in my hair while the other snakes around my waist and tugs me closer.

I fall against his chest and brace my hands 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 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.

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. I feel his touch linger on my skin, on my cheek, on my neck, even minutes after he is gone.

I prepare for bed with my mind a whirl of thoughts, but I push them all aside when I snuggle with little Sammy in the living room. Tear stains mark his cheeks, and I tell him stories of my childhood and friends to comfort him and help him go back to sleep. I may not exactly remember what it was like going to sleep the first night after my parents were killed, but I do know every detail of the emptiness since, and the nightmares I’ve woken from when memories surface in my mind. I wasn’t alone through the grief, and I won’t let Sammy be, either.

We wake together and make breakfast, then both head out for training. Sammy and the other young pups run their own small laps and tumble together in the grass while Devanshi and I jog the trails that circumvent the training field.

“Did you hear what they found this morning along the western border, up near Stone’s Pass?” she asks, her breath coming out in warms puffs that illuminate in the cool air from shafts of sunlight.

“No. You’re the first person I’ve spoken to this morning.” Everyone else seemed to steer clear of me, and I don’t need to wonder why.

“Well, my dad just got back from patrolling the perimeter. He and a few of the guards came across over a dozen rogues, all dead. Torn limb from limb in the most gruesome way he’s ever seen. Barely even wanted to talk about it.”

A cold shudder runs through me, and I ask despite already having an idea of the answer. “Do they know who— or what— did it?”

Devanshi shrugs. “Maybe someone wanting revenge for Jasper’s death. Or even some bad blood between the rogues themselves. There’s a lot that goes on beyond our borders that we don’t know about.”

We finish our warm up run and meet with the other young warriors in the middle of the field. I catch Hamilton’s eye before we begin one-on-one sparring, and he allows me a minute to talk away from the others.

“Those rogues found dead outside our border… was it Malachi who killed them?”

He glances at me sharply, the Beta’s eyes glowing bright hazel in the early morning sunlight. “It’s dangerous to ask those kinds of questions, Ariella.” He flicks his gaze outward, as though checking that no one overheard us.

“You forget I’m Malachi’s mate and know about his heritage.”

Hamilton narrows his eyes on me, and I suddenly wonder how much he knows about Seneca’s true nature and the type of blood running in Malachi’s veins. Does this Beta even know he serves a demon Alpha?

I explain myself quickly, “Malachi said he was getting better at controlling his deadly urges, but I wouldn’t blame him if he lashed out on those rogues. I know he’s hurting deeply from what happened to Jasper. So it’s okay. I want to know. Did he do that to them?” I try not to imagine the bloody scene, but images of the time I came across Malachi in the forest after having murdered the adulterer keep coming to mind.

With a slow intake of breath, Hamilton releases it. “Yes. It was him. I couldn’t get to him in time to stop him.”

Despite saying I was okay, my heart clenches. What kind of man did I declare my love to? “Was that the emergency you called him for last night? Did you know a group of rogues was near the border?” If the Alpha and Beta were in this together, protecting their borders from further attacks, why didn’t they clean up the mess before guards found the grisly scene this morning and started asking questions?

“Emergency? I’m not sure what you mean. I didn’t know about these rogues until after…”

I look up at Hamilton and frown. “You know, when you mindlinked Malachi last night, around midnight. He said—“

“I was fast asleep by midnight after debriefing till late. I didn’t contact Malachi.”

His words strike me dumb, and I blink in the bright sunshine as I look out towards the trees. Malachi said he had to leave and find Hamilton quickly, but if he was just lying to me…

I don’t want to think about what this means to our relationship, to the love I professed to Malachi last night.

“Look, we have to begin training, so if you’re done—“

“One more thing,” I say quickly. “The main purpose of your trip to Justice Pack. Did you sort it out? Maybe that rogue is connected to the increase in them around our borders.”

“I don’t think it’s connected. Zander’s not the vindictive type. But he refused to talk to us anyway, so the trip was wasted. Which makes our loss even worse.”

I just stare at him, processing this information which is confusing. “What? But why not? You went all that way because he arranged to have a decent conversation, and what did he even want it for? Maybe he was distracting you while the rogues attacked here? But no, that wouldn’t make sense, because the rogues who attacked me wanted Malachi, yet they didn’t know where he was. None of this makes sense.” I ramble, spilling my thoughts as I tug at my hair between my fingers.

“Listen, detective, we can solve this later. But if you must know, the reason he wouldn’t talk to us was because of you.”

“Me?” I physically take a step back as his words slam into me.

Hamilton nods and replies with a hint of censure in his voice. “He wouldn’t talk about what he wanted until you were present.”