The Alpha's Daydream

I awake to silence.

Rolling over and opening my eyes a crack, I realise it is still dark, dawn having not yet approached. I pull the covers up further under my chin and try to go back to sleep, but something keeps me awake, aware, conscious.

It is the silence.

No sound reaches my ears. No sway of the tree branches outside the window, no soft breath from Sammy in the guest room two doors down the hall. Not even the rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock that reverberates throughout the house can be heard.

The heavy stillness prods me to sit up and peer around me. A pale greyness seeps through the curtained windows, casting the room in a weak and sickly pallor. The dress I bought yesterday hangs from the closet door, stiff and ghostlike.

I take a breath yet the air feels stale. It fills my lungs but leaves me wanting more, needing more sustenance. I place my hand over my chest and press lightly, an instinctual and subconscious gesture when I can’t get enough air.

A muffled thud draws my attention to the adjoining bathroom, and my limbs stiffen as my ears strain for any more sound. The metallic buzz of a zip sliding into place. Soft padding of feet on cool tiles. A sharp intake of breath and a mumbled curse.

I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and rise, noting my head doesn’t feel dizzy like it normally does when I stand too quickly. I slide open the bathroom door quietly and stare at Malachi’s reflection in the mirror. His back is to me as he leans on the benchtop. One hand holds a razor blade, the other is pressed to his mouth and his face is scrunched in a grimace. I see a dark drop of blood on the sink, black against the white porcelain, and deduce what happened.

“Malachi, are you okay?” I walk over to him and place my hand on his arm.

He shifts away from me, covering my view. “I’m fine.” His words are clipped, his tone beckoning no argument.

“What are you doing?” I ask as he quickly shoves the razor in a black leather toiletries bag, along with his bottle of coconut shampoo that I like so much. It is early, and though I know he is often up before the sun and getting ready for the day, what he’s doing now isn’t usual.

It looks like he is packing.

“You were right, the other night,” he says airily, and I wrack my brain, trying to remember what I said. He continues in the same apathetic tone of voice, “This is your room, your place in the pack. I can’t keep messing it up for you.”

I figure he is referring to the night I refused him access to his own bed, claiming it was mine since I am the rightful Luna. I was being childish, and I thought we’d moved beyond this. Of course I want to share a room and bed with my mate.

“So I’m leaving.”

“What?!”

“You deserve better than this,” he says as he finally turns to face me. His eyes linger on my mouth before gliding up to my own, as if he is reluctant to let me see into the windows of his soul.

Because that’s what they are—windows. Empty, black, obsidian irises that bleed into his pupils with no distinction. A cold chill snakes down my spine, and my breathing becomes shallow.

“I don’t understand…” I try and gather my thoughts, try to understand what is going on.

“I can’t hide this from you any longer. I’ve decided to be with Cally, so the sooner we cut off whatever was between you and me, the better for everyone.”

“Cally?” Her name suddenly tastes like sandy grit in my mouth.

“You’re stronger than anyone I know. You’ll be a great Luna for this pack. You don’t need a miserable failure of an Alpha tearing you down all the time. I should be gone beyond the border before sun-up.” He says hastily, and moves past me to exit the bathroom.

“Wait,” I snag the sleeve of his thick black coat between my fingers. “Whatever was between you and me? Don’t you remember? You said you’d always care about me, and you had dreams of our future together, and... and you wanted two children.” My voice catches as my mind scrambles over everything we’ve said to each other, all the kisses we’ve shared, all the tender moments he’s promised with his eyes more than his words that he feels deeply for me.

What has that all become now? False? Obsolete? Imaginary? Was it all in my head?

“You know I could never really love you, Ariella,” he shakes his head and looks at me with a bored expression, as though I am a silly child holding him up with my useless drama.

I follow him into our room, trying to follow his line of reasoning and failing. My heart can’t accept what is happening.

“Why not?” I breathe into the deadly silence between us.

He pauses before the window, pulling aside the curtain and glancing at the still world outside, the gentle flakes of snow falling on the trees and blanketing the usually colourful landscape. He drops it and turns to me, an ache in his eyes that is beginning to worry me. I watch, my throat going dry, as he lifts a hand to his chest and rubs it over his black dress shirt.

I am entranced by the deliberate movements, wishing I could ease the pain instead of us both suffering apart. When he pulls his hand away, all I can see is something black like ink coating the skin, crawling from his fingers and down his wrist in a spidery pattern.

“Because,” he begins to walk closer to me. “I don’t have a heart.”

I back up as he advances, the back of my legs hitting the bed and I fall down. Malachi looms over me, more shadow than body, black whorls of something otherworldly exuding from this man that has the strength to protect me, or destroy me.

I am paralysed, my arms refusing to move to a defensive position as he leans down over me. His hand reaches out, the black ink dripping onto my own chest, and I flinch as his fingers touch my head. He looks at me sadly, a nuance of pity in his eyes as he holds my gaze. His hand is heavy on my head, my silent pleas going ignored. His touch trails down until only his fingers remain on my forehead. They are cold, searing my skin until feel ice spreading down my face and numbing me.

“Mal…” I whisper, his name barely making it past my lips before I can no longer breathe. His hand now rests on my chest, his long fingers spreading wide, and the pressure is like an anvil pushing down on me. My ribs cave in, bending under the weight, snapping and collapsing on the organs beneath. I am robbed of the ability to cry out or scream at him to stop.

“It seems….” he says quietly, his long lashes fluttering down to meet his cheeks as he blinks slowly. He tilts his head, listening, probing, feeling. For what, I’m not sure.

But then I am. I realise what has been wrong this entire time. I know why everything is so silent, why I find it so hard to breathe. Why everything is so dark and lifeless.

My own chest is lifeless. It is still. It doesn’t rise or fall, nor speed up at Malachi’s touch. I feel no sparks, no ache, no pain.

Just this emptiness that reaches out from Malachi and engulfs me in an endless pit.

He releases his hand, and my chest remains sunken. With a sigh, his eyes drop and he looks at me before whispering lowly, “It seems you don’t have a heart either.”

While this revelation is pounding in my ear drums, deafening me, he turns and goes to leave without even an explanation.

I use the last of my strength to push myself up on my elbows and gasp, “Malachi!”

I sit up, suddenly awake, heart racing in my chest, lungs sucking in an inordinate amount of air. My eyes spring open at the same time as my mouth, and I gasp my mate’s name just as blinding sunlight floods my vision. Golden sunlight, bright and nourishing.

I squint and fling a hand across my face, trying to focus on the blurry image in front of me. I make out a silhouette in front of the window, the curtains pulled open and the green hues of the forest edging the black silken waves of Malachi’s hair. He turns towards me and rises from the window seat.

I instantly throw out both hands in front of me, shielding myself. “Stop! Don’t come any closer,” I say quickly, my voice groggy and strained, and I gulp in another lungful of air as I blink rapidly and look at him more closely. His eyes are as blue as the azure summer skies, his brows are furrowed in concern, his jaw clenched with worry, his shoulders tensed in preparation for anything.

He is the Malachi that I love.

Still, I don’t want him to come any closer until I know what he is doing here, until I know I can trust him.

Between the ragged panting of my breath, I listen carefully and hear my own heart beat. It is strong and fast. I then throw out the rest of my senses and hear his heart too, beating steadily and beginning to match the racing of my own. Blood thunders through his veins, warm and comforting.

I then tune into the birds twittering outside, the shouts of warriors training in the distance, the scurrying of small creatures in the forest. The sounds calm me, and I begin to take slower, deeper breaths. Pushing the covers down off my legs, I swing them over the edge of the bed and get up. Walking towards Malachi, my eyes trained on his, each step is slow and deliberate. He doesn’t move, just watches me as closely as I am him.

The air hums around us, charged like electricity. Crackling and zapping the closer we become. Our bodies recognise each other despite the doubts and dreams that plague our minds.

When I am within reach, I place my hands on his shoulders, and he sinks back down to the window seat. Stepping between his parted legs, I wrap my arms further around his neck and search his eyes. “Do you care about me?” I ask softly, hating the way my voice cracks on the last word.

I notice his subtle reaction, the way his breath catches, his hand stills as it hovers near my waist, his pupils shrink as he analyses the nuance behind my question. He doesn’t take more than a second to reply. “Ariella, I care about you more than I have ever cared about anyone in my life.” His hands rest gently on my waist, warm and comforting, and I release the breath I had been holding. He tilts his head and studies me as closely as I’m studying him. “Why do you doubt that?”

I can’t help but shrug, unwilling to share my dream or the awful feeling that it leaves, lingering on my skin and in my heart like a rotting mould. I know I can trust him, but I still find it so hard to just let my heart get carried away in my feelings for him. I’m afraid to let myself be swept up in the current of the mate bond when it seems Malachi keeps moving further and further beyond my reach.

Instead of answering him, I place one hand on his cheek and the other on his chest. The feel of his heart, the rhythmic beat like a tribal drum, sends shockwaves through my entire body and straight to the very core of my bones.

Calming. Soothing. Reassuring.

I close my eyes and relish the feel of him, of his breath on my cheek, of his large hands holding me securely, of his heart pumping with life.

Then I bring my face closer to his until our lips are touching. We share a soft kiss at first, gentle and innocent, until I slide my hands around his head and tug him closer. At the same time, he pulls me against his chest until there is no space left between us. His lips press against mine in such an intense feeling, it takes my breath away. But I don’t mind gasping for air when he is right here to give it to me, when the warmth and security of being with him piece back together the tattered shards of my heart.

After a few more moments that raise my body temperature a scorching number of degrees, I pull back and look up at him lazily. “Is today Friday?” I know it is, but with the way my mind is partially caught in the remnants of my nightmares, I can’t be too sure.

Malachi nods reluctantly, one side of his mouth lifting in half a smile as he replies, “Unfortunately.”

I pat his chest and grin widely. “Happy birthday, my darling mate.” And I press my lips to his again before he can protest against the good wishes.

“I was hoping everyone would forget,” he murmurs, kissing me back.

My mouth opens in shock. “Then you wouldn’t get the gift I made for you.” I step out of his arms and go over to the bed, pulling out a wrapped box, roughly the size but flatter than a shoebox, from underneath. I hold it out teasingly in front of him. “Are you saying you don’t want it?”

He chuckles and steps closer. “Okay, just this one.”

I give it to him, and can’t help but sigh, “Well then, I guess I’ll have to give the other presents to Hamilton. Maybe he’ll appreciate them, seeing as you don’t—”

I can’t finish my sentence because Malachi has placed the box on the bed, snaked his arms around me, and quickly pulled me to himself in one swift motion. His mouth covers mine, and I can’t say I don’t enjoy this show of affection from my mate, confounding though he is.

“Don’t give anything to Hamilton,” he orders me after disconnecting our lips.

I pull back and smirk. “Yes, Alpha.”

He smiles approvingly, then grows serious. “I’ll appreciate every gift you have for me, but I really don’t deserve any of them,” he says in a self-deprecating manner.

I place a finger on his lips to silence him. “Not another word. You don’t get to tear yourself down today. Today is for celebrating, and you are the sole reason for that. You are the strong, brave Alpha who deserves this pack to respect and celebrate him.”

Malachi’s eyes narrow as he looks at me intently for a moment, then he shakes his head knowingly. “Let me guess, Harlow has planned a surprise party?”

“Just open my present,” I pick up the box and shove it into his arms, fighting the smile as I conspicuously evade his question.

He sits on the edge of the bed and unwraps it, and I climb behind him and rest my chin on his shoulder. When he opens the box, my heart is racing with anticipation and some nerves, wondering if he’ll like the present or laugh at me for how pathetic it is. I’m suddenly doubting giving it to him, and almost snatch it back before he flips the gold frame over to see the picture.

It is a penned sketch of us, standing together with Malachi’s arms around my waist, his chin tucked into the crook of my neck and a sparkle of love in both our eyes. Behind us is a quaint chateau, small, homey, and surrounded by manicured greenery with a tangle of wild nature in the distance.

“This is beautiful,” Malachi whispers, his fingers gliding over the glass that encases our faces, enraptured by the peace we must feel in the moment. I feel I’ve captured the essence of the matebond in our expressions, and I hope Malachi can see it too.

“When did you draw it?”

I tighten my arms around his shoulders and place a kiss on his neck before answering. “About four months ago.”

His hand stills on the gold scroll frame, and I feel his heart skip a beat in his chest. My own pauses for a moment, wondering if he’ll realise the significance.

He does. “Four months….but… We hadn’t met each other yet back then.”

I slide my legs down over the edge of the bed until I’m sitting beside him and can see his face better. “Yeah, we hadn’t. That’s what makes this so special. I had so many dreams about you, about me finally being with my mate, before I’d ever seen you in real life.”

Malachi keeps his eyes on the picture even when I lay my hand over his. He swallows hard and I watch the way his Adam’s Apple moves up and down.

“Then I guess we really are meant to be together, huh,” he says with a slight chuckle, but I notice a nervous ring to it.

“Does it scare you? The fact that I dreamt about us, and that our destiny is that strong?” I ask as I gently rub my thumb in circles on the back of his hand.

He shrugs and gives me a teasing smile. “I’d say it’s pretty cute, like you.” He leans over and places a kiss on my nose.

“Cute, hey?” I’m only slightly impressed by his choice of adjective.

“And meaningful,” he adds. “Obviously your dreams mean something.”

“Yeah,” I agree, biting my lip as memories of certain other dreams come to mind.

He seems to think the same thing, and goes on to say with a growing frown, “The good dreams,” he taps the picture frame again. “And probably the bad ones, too.”

“Uggh, don’t remind me,” I fall back on the bed and fling a hand over my eyes, trying to laugh it off as if it isn’t a serious matter.

“That doesn’t bother you?” He turns to me with a worried expression.

“Every day. Why do you think I was freaking out this morning when I woke up?” I watch him as he gets up and paces at the end of the bed.

His mood remains sullen. “Another nightmare? What happened in it? Did I do something…”

I huff a sigh. “Enough about that. I’d rather not talk about it. It doesn’t matter anyway, because we’re both here and everything is okay.” For now, I feel like adding, but I bite my tongue and keep my concerns to myself. He has enough on his mind, judging by the frown on his handsome face. I sit up and spread my hands. “Let’s plan today. What do you want to do after breakfast?”

“Run away to Africa,” he says with a determined scowl on his face. “We could probably be beyond the border before mid morning.”

Beyond the border. Those words are terrifyingly familiar, but I shake off the heavy feeling and smile. “That sounds like fun. But then we’d miss the party.” And whatever else follows after. I watch him in a new light, anticipating what tonight might bring and if I’d be brave enough to finally mark and mate my enigmatic and mysterious Alpha mate.

He runs a hand through his hair, the motion agitated, and loosens a sigh. “I have a lot of work to get done before then. I don’t think I’ll be in the mood for partying.”

“So I’ll help. What’s on your job list?” I cross my legs Indian style as my eyes follow my mate.

“A business call with Alpha Asa. Discussions with my command about the rogue problems,” he holds up a hand and checks off his fingers as he speaks. “A routine check of the borders that seem to be weakening in defence. I still need to talk to the guards about the increased risks and the new measures that Knight suggested we put in place. Then I need to meet with the older warriors to—“

“Okay, okay, I get it,” I hold up my hands for him to stop. It seems his work is never ending, and though I know today is significant for him to assert himself as a worthy Alpha, he also needs to loosen up and relax a bit. “You need to calm down,” I argue when he begins to protest. “We’ll have some breakfast, then we should go for a run to help work out the stress so we can be calm for all this work—“

“Calm down?” He pins me with an exasperated look as his pacing becomes more frantic. “That’s all everybody ever tells me! Hamilton says to calm down and control my anger. My mom says to stop fighting it and embrace it.”

I tilt my head, no longer sure what we are talking about. Malachi seems to have something on his mind and I let him spew. I watch as he tugs both hands through his hair, his muscles tense and bunch together, his breathing grows faster and more shallow, and the veins pulse heavily on his neck.

“Beta Knight says to just chill and take it easy. Take it easy!” Malachi growls and shakes his fist. “Does he not know the first thing about being an Alpha? There is no room for ‘taking it easy’!”

By now he is shouting, and I get up off the bed and grab his hands in my own.

“Malachi, listen to me—“

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” He practically yells in my face, and I frown at the sorry state he has worked himself in to.

“No, I want you to take a deep breath and look at me.”

His eyes are wild, glancing with frustration at the floor, so I put my hands on either side of his face and direct it towards me. “Look at me, Malachi,” I say sternly.

His azure blue eyes meet mine.

“That’s it. Take a deep breath and forget what everyone else says. Forget what you have to do today. Forget your responsibilities, and all the expectations. Just for a moment.

Here and now, in this moment, just be yourself. With me, you can just be yourself and I will always love you.”

His racing heart slows down, ceasing to thunder in my own attuned ears, and I sense a change in his scent also. He responds to my touch, his face angling into the palm of my hand, and I caress him as the stress leaches out of his skin. “I will always love you, no matter what happens today.”