Malachi (4 page)

The next few days were a hell unlike anything he could imagine. Fever had him sweating for hours, his mouth parched. And then cold—so cold no amount of heat could possibly warm him.

There was pain. Obscene in its intensity, it tore at his bones, feasted on the flesh of his neck and burned at his gums. Malachi would have cheerfully taken the pain of the whip over this, had he any choice.

By the time the cloak of sleep lifted, he was half mad from pain, from hunger and from fury.

And
she
was there. Shoving off the cave floor, Malachi stared at her. Rage was a living, breathing monster in him and as he glared at the demon, the rage became him. He felt something rip through his gums. Blood flooded his mouth. Reaching up, he touched his fingers to his lip and felt a weird bulge there. Opening his mouth, he probed at his teeth. No—they were no longer teeth.

Fangs. He had wicked fangs in his mouth, just like a wild animal.

Just like
her.

“What have you done to me?” he growled.

She sighed and as he watched, tears rolled down her ivory cheeks. “What I had to. As you must do what you have to.”

She stood before him with her head lowered as Malachi moved closer. He waited for her to run, but she never moved.

He wanted to feel her neck snap beneath his hands. Could almost feel it. But she did not run, did not flinch. Did not even move as he reached up and closed one hand around her delicate skin. Under his fingers, he could feel the slow pulse of her heart, the thrum of blood rushing through her veins. He could imagine tightening his grasp, squeezing her neck, feeling bones break.

But she stood there, shivering, terrified—and waiting. Like she knew what he planned to do.

With a snarl, Malachi tore away and dashed out of the cave.

In the depth of the woods, he scented game. It was like a perfume in his nostrils, getting more and more powerful as he drew closer. His mouth watered and there was a throbbing along his gums.

The fangs—they were throbbing, pulsating.  And as he drew closer to the animal, that pulsating grew worse.

Just in front of him, he saw the deer, a huge buck with a wide spread of antlers.

Conscious thought seemed to stop. Malachi knew only the hunger and the prey. It took only a matter of heartbeats to take the buck down and it was not until he had sated the burning hunger in his gut that he realized what he had done.

Killed an animal. With his own hands. And drank from it. Even now, the hot salty taste of blood burned in his mouth and he felt almost drunk from the sensation.

Then nauseated.

As the full reality of what he had done struck him, Malachi was overcome with the need to vomit, to empty his guts out onto the ground and try to purge himself.

It will not help.

The soft voice whispered into his mind and he snarled at the invasion. “Can you not leave me in peace even in my own damned head?” he demanded as the woman started to murmur to him.

She was not close. Somehow, he knew that. He thought he could even sense her, faintly. Back in the cave, right where he had left her.

Why do you not kill me and be done with it?
she asked.

Malachi shoved away from the dead deer, his legs wobbling a little, his head spinning. Leaning against a tree, he whispered, “Just leave me in peace, demon. Have you not done enough?”

She sighed. He could almost feel it, like a ripple against his skin.
I wish I could make you understand. I did what I had to.

“Just leave me be.”

* * * * *

She left him in peace.

But still, Malachi felt bound to her. Trapped.

Even in his dreams, the sensation haunted him.

When the dream first started, he had welcomed it, but the relief was short lived. Even here, he could not truly escape what had become of his life.

He covered his dream lady’s body, as he pierced the soft, wet folds of her sex. Mal took her roughly, urgency, hunger and desperation fueling him.  He came inside her, once, twice, bringing her to peak over and over until her screams turned hoarse and her hands slid from his shoulders to rest limply at her sides.

“You’re unhappy,” she murmured to him as he finally pulled away. He lay on his back, staring up at the darkness as she cuddled to his side.

Malachi snorted. “It is a bit more than that. I have not even the words to explain what has happened.”

For a moment, she said nothing. Then her hand started to stroke him across his chest, the touch gentle, as though she wished to soothe him. “I know what’s been going on, Mal. There’s very little about you that I don’t know.”

“You know,” he said slowly. He sat up, pulling away from her warm, soft curves. Malachi closed his eyes against the dark foggy world that surrounded them.

“Yes. I know. Even before she found you, I knew something would change for you, and soon.”

“A warning might have been nice,” he muttered.

“Why? So you could laugh it off? Or ignore me? Or worse…try to leave? She needed you. This is your destiny, Mal. It was what was meant to happen.”

His destiny—that was a bitter joke. He was destined to spend his life by draining away the lifeblood of others? “Destiny? I was born to become this?” he snarled. He reached up and touched the tip of one fang and it sliced open the flesh of his finger. “To become an animal?”

“You aren’t an animal. You are destined to save others. To protect them. You are a warrior—she sees this. I can see it. Every one can, except for you.”

“How can you see anything? You do not truly see me,” Malachi growled, trying to pull away from the smooth, strong arms that held him. “As I do not truly see you. We are nothing to each other, save for these dreams.”

For a moment, she was silent. Then she finally said, “You are everything to me. I cannot control these things, Mal. I am controlled by fate and destiny as surely as you are. Even as your sire is. She did not choose you randomly. She was guided to you.”

More talk of destiny and fate—impotent rage coursed through him and he pulled away from her. “How do you know so much of her? Do you watch us from wherever you are? Are you the witch that led her to me?” Malachi demanded.

His body ached at the separation and his cock jerked, throbbing like a bad tooth. The need to cover her once more and sink his length inside of her was overwhelming. Even stronger than that damnable hunger that plagued him.

She was silent and for once, he thought he might get some kind of true answer from her. When she stayed silent, he taunted, “Can you see us? How can you see?
What
do you see? Did you see the first night she bit me? Drunk as I was, I remember little. Can you help me remember?”

She sighed shakily and Mal felt ashamed. He had hurt her.

Whether this woman was real or just a product of his own lonely needs, he did not know. But her pain felt terribly real. Turning, he tried to go back to her, but she pulled away. There was a soft sound in the air, almost like a sob, and then she was gone.

Without her to hold him locked in the dreams any more, he woke. And stalked from the cave without even glancing at the petite blonde woman who was responsible for what he had become.

Nearly two days and nights had passed since he had awoken from that painful fevered sleep. Two nights in which he had hunted down wild game in the forest and fed from them once more. He had not killed another animal, though. Just that first one. The other creatures, a wolf and several rabbits, he had just fed enough to ease the hunger, never sating it.

The hunger was enough to drive a man insane. Or whatever in the hell he had become. He sat brooding, perched on a tree limb, close enough to see the mouth of the small cave. She was in there.

She…Alys. Her name was Alys. He had just learned that a little while ago when he had been trying to block her out again. She had been chastising him for not feeding.
You cannot continue like this,
she had said.

“What in the hell do you know about what I am doing or not, demon?”

I am not a demon—just a woman. I…my name is Alys.
There was loneliness in her voice. But he refused to yield to it.

Even if he did feel the echo of such a loneliness deep in his soul.

Another spasm of hunger clawed at his gut. Malachi clenched his teeth against it, slamming his head back against the tree and grinding it against the rough bark.

He almost gave into it.

But even as he started to drop from the tree, he felt something in the air. A tightening, like the air before a storm. But the sky was clear. The change was followed by a rush of anger. It flooded him, drew his skin tight, and the despised fangs dropped down. He wanted to bite something—to tear something apart.

Evil.

The stink of it began to taint the air.

Hearing the soft sound of footsteps, he looked down to see Alys creeping from the cave.

“He is coming,” she said stiffly, her lips barely moving. Her eyes were dark and wild with fear, but as she stared at Malachi, she tried to force a smile. “I do not know why you did not kill me—nay, I know why. A valiant warrior I found indeed. Though you have much hatred of me in your heart, you cannot simply kill me. But him, you will…”

Her voice trailed away and Alys clapped her hands over her ears, moaning.

And the evil in the air seemed to draw even closer. It took on a scent. Malachi could smell him. It was a man and the very air around him seemed to be painted with the stink of blood, sweat and fear.

Malachi moved closer to Alys, watching as she wrapped her arms around herself and rocked backed and forth on her heels. “No…he calls me…please no…”

The anger he felt for her seemed to melt away as he saw her standing there, so terrified, so pale. She looked helpless. Even though he knew exactly how strong she was physically, the evil beating at the air around them seemed to batter at her, nearly driving her down.

And then she was on the ground, blood pouring from her mouth and nose and eyes. Her screams sounded wet and garbled as she choked on the blood.

“What is wrong?” he demanded, sliding an arm under her and lifting her body so he could cradle her to his chest.

But she had no answer. She did not even seem to realize he was speaking as she began to struggle against him. “Let me go! I have to go—he calls me.”

There was a soft, deadly whisper in the air as she spoke.
Come to me, little toy. Where are you now?

As the man spoke, Malachi could sense a power there, but like a distant thunderstorm, it did not affect him.

Alys, though, she was terrified. It was though she was compelled to listen to the summons. The frightened woman would have gone running off into the woods had he not been clutching her to him.

“Let me go. I have to go. He is calling me,” she pleaded, clawing at his arms. Blood painted garish, dark streaks on her face, trickling down her neck.

Mindless of it, he caught her face in his hands. He fisted his fingers in her hair and forced her to look at him as he quietly said, “Look at me.”

For a moment, she stilled and he thought he saw some semblance of sanity in her eyes. “I cannot deny him—he is too close.”

“You have denied him. You left him; you came here. Do not let him break you now,” he said gently.
Broken—yes, she is broken,
he realized. Anger once more swirled inside him, but it was self-directed. He had been so caught in his own rage he had not seen that she was little more than he.

A slave.

Enslaved by fear to a creature Malachi knew in his gut was far more brutal than any Malachi had ever known. He sensed once more that compulsion that rippled through the air as yet another whisper came from the dark. “Does he force you to come?”

Tears began to leak from her eyes, mingling with the blood on her face. “Yes—he is my sire. He created me. He can destroy me. As long as I hear his voice, I cannot deny him.” Her eyes closed and she started to whimper once more, tugging against his hold. “Please—let me go.”

Malachi rose, bringing her with him, supporting her body with his. “And if you cannot hear him?”

Alys sobbed. “Then he cannot touch me. But I cannot outrun his command. I had to run for days to escape him before.”

“Forgive me,” he said quietly. He stroked one hand down her hair and then drew back his hand, clipping her soundly on the jaw. She slumped in his arms, her eyes rolling back in her head.

Lifting her in his arms, he carried her back into the cave and laid her down. He checked her eyes, lifting her lids. She was good and out, likely to stay that way for some time. Along the soft curve of her jaw, there was a darkening bruise. Guilt knotted his gut for a moment, but he could not let her run to this bastard.

Nor could he fight him when he was trying to protect her.

Malachi did not even try to understand the sense of it all. This woman had turned him into something he did not recognize, that he did not understand. He should hate her. He wanted to hate her.

But he could not. He was overcome with the need to protect her when just a day before he had wanted to throttle her.

Shoving to his feet, he strode out of the cave. Empty handed and unsure of what he was facing, Malachi strode into the woods.

The man was waiting. But he looked surprised at Malachi’s arrival. He hid it quickly, demanding, “And what have you done with my pet, you mongrel whelp?”

Malachi smiled, his lips peeling back from the wicked, sharp fangs. “She is sleeping.”

His eyes narrowed as he studied Malachi across the distance separating them. “You are newly Changed, boy. I feel it. Did she make you thinking that you could protect her?” The man started to laugh, his head falling back as he chortled his amusement. “She did, did she not?”

“Do you intend to laugh? Or fight?”

The laughter faded. “There will be no fight. Get out of my sight now and perhaps I will not destroy you.”

The air changed again. Like something was pushing at Malachi. But whatever it was had no affect on Malachi. He felt like he was simply walking through ankle-deep water. Chilled, but nothing else.