Malice tries not to think about Aerin’s neck. About her skin. About how her skin feels under his hands, his lips. The blood-bond aches. But Malice refuses to give into her again, no matter how perfectly they seem to fit together.
As if Aerin can sense him thinking impure thoughts, she glances his way. Malice gets caught in those golden eyes for too long, letting himself recall the way she chanted his name when she came around him in the cabin.
Malice looks away, to the book he just closed, up to the clock about to strike five p.m. He stands and shoves Theo’s legs, which bar him from exiting, off the coffee table. The Mer grunts and glares at him. Needing away from Aerin’s gaze, Malice strides down the aisle, deeper into the maze of books.
He hears Aerin stand, listens to Theo catch her arm and tell her, “Just let him go.” Aerin sighs in response.
Malice moves deeper. He doesn’t know where he is going other thanawayuntil he comes upon Emrys. The Wolf has been tasked with pulling titles that seem relevant. He’s standing in the middle of an aisle, a cart half full of books behind him, as he reads the synopsis of the text in his hands.
Emrys’s brown eyes flicker up then down, then back up to Malice, like it takes his brain a second to catch up.
“Is it time to go?” Emrys asks, putting the text in his hands onto the cart next to him.
“Not quite,” Malice replies, itching to lean against the bookshelves, but he doesn’t trust the flimsy metal with his weight. Instead, he folds his arms over his chest.
Reyna was right, about her theory. As the days pass Malice can see it more clearly, like a thin string drawn from himself to Emrys. The Wolf spends more of his free time with Malice, gravitating towards him. Mostly a silent presence with his knowing eyes and knowing smile. But sometimes Malice feels the playfulness bubbling underneath his quiet exterior. Even rarer, Emrys will let that playfulness show.
“Then what are you doing here?” Emrys asks, picking up the next book on the shelf. He’s quick to place it back where it belongs before grabbing another.
“I just need a break,” Malice says, his fingers twitching against his bicep. Emrys hums in acknowledgement, putting the book back. He shuffles closer to Malice, pulling the cart with him as he starts on the next section of the shelf.
“You could just forgive her.” Emrys says it casually, doesn’t even look at Malice while he does.
“That is not a break,” Malice replies, ignoring the Wolf.
“You’re not going to feel settled until you take your rightful place,” Emrys says with a shrug, still not looking at Malice. He puts a book on the cart and grabs the next, like this is the easiest conversation in the world.
Malice forces himself to consciously relax his jaw.
“And what place is that?”
Emrys finally looks at him, his honey brown eyes sparkling with a bit of mischief.
“You’ve ensured that we all know, so I’m surprised you don’t,” he muses, putting the book back before turning to look at Malice in earnest. “Every single one of us has submitted to you, Malice. We listen to you, weobey. You are Aerin’s second.”
Malice chews on the idea, flips it over in his mind. Emrys isn’t wrong. He naturally leads the group. Demands it of them. Displays his power over them any time it is asked of him, any time he’s questioned. He thinks of Theo on his ass on the mats or the way Khortland always rolls his eyes but inevitably does as Malice requests.
“You’ll never feel settled until you forgive her,” Emrys adds, going back to the books.
Malice knows one thing for sure, even amidst spinning uncertainty: he isn’t ready to forgive Aerin.
[Are you ready to leave?]Aerin’s voice echoes in Malice’s head. A new discovery made a few days ago that solidified their theory about the Pack magic: Aerin, Emrys, and Malice could now communicate down the lines of the bond, the way Wolves do.
[We’ll be right there,]Emrys answers for them, sliding a book back onto the shelf.
Emrys tows the cart behind them as they make their way to the entrance, where the rest of the group is waiting. Leaving together, Malice ensures the door locks after them. Emrys walks in his Wolf form next to Aerin, her hand occasionally running through his fur. Theo and Khortland discuss the merits of wearing printed shirts to Bruin’s cookout tonight, Theo enthusiastically for and Khortland decidedly against.
Malice keeps an eye on their surroundings, his senses surveying their path for possible threats. Nothing is amiss until they reach the apartment. They enter the lobby to find two Royal Guards waiting. Malice is at Aerin’s side instantly, his wings flared out just enough to protect Theo, Khortland, and Reyna behind him.
The guards seem relieved to see her.
“Princess,” the first one says, approaching.
“We come with an invitation from the Tolvare King,” the second says. He holds out a square white envelope embossed with the Valtara City-State emblem. It’s sealed with gold wax, the Tolvare family crest imprinted into it.
Malice takes the card before Aerin can touch it. Aerin says nothing.
“Thank you,” Malice dismisses them. The guards nod quickly before leaving.
