Resting his wrists on his knees, Malum watched her expression.
He had questions. Questions she might have the answers to—answers she’d kept locked inside.
In light of today’s events, a serious, private conversation was in order, and this was as good a time as any—if, that was, he could keep himself in check.
“Is that why you came outside?” she asked. How the hell did her smile, a slightly crooked one even, manage to dissolve his rational thoughts? “To keep me from ruining my gown?”
“You’re impossible.” Malum shook his head.
“And yet, here you are,” she whispered, her gaze locked with his.
“Here I am.” Was his answer a warning, or was it a surrender?
“Lie down with me.” Was it possible she could be completely unaware of the images her words stirred in him?
An almost silent choking sound escaped his throat.
“The sky doesn’t sparkle like this every night,” she added, patting the grass beside her. “Just for a moment.”
It would be a mistake. Malum knew it. And yet, as he looked into her eyes, seeing a mixture of mischief and sincerity, he felt the ground shift beneath his feet.
“It’s… grass.”
“That’s the point.” She laughed. “One must be outside to see the sky.”
His lips quirked, and against his better judgement, Malum lowered himself, sitting—not laying—draping his arms over his knees, his posture casual despite the air thrumming between them.
The feigned affection, her idea from the start, had begun as a practical ruse—a way to smooth the edges of their hastily arranged engagement. Was it even an act anymore? Not all of it. Not for him. At some point, they’d blurred the line between pretense and reality, and he didn’t know what the hell to do with that.
And now, here she was, stretched out beneath the open sky, claiming the air had felt too warm indoors. And even after the chill of Northwoods’ admissions, with the shadow of Crossings looming in the background, Malum was anything but cool. The fire simmering beneath his skin was entirely for her. It was an ache he needed to extinguish.
Lie down with me.
“This is as far as I’ll go,” he said, his voice low.
Controlled.
“Fair enough,” Melanie replied, her gaze flitting briefly to his profile before returning to the heavens. “But you’re missing the view.”
Malum tipped his head, intending only to humor her. But as his eyes lifted to the sky, something inside him stilled. The stars were the same as always, scattered and distant, yet tonight they seemed… closer.
He felt small under their endless stretch, their quiet brilliance making his usual concerns seem almost laughable. The universe didn’t care about scheming, revenge, or the powers that be.
For a man who prided himself on control, the thought should have been unsettling. Instead, it was strangely soothing.
He scoffed at himself, half-amused. Trust Melanie to make him notice something so absurdly poetic. And worse, trust himself to let her.
“Happy?” he asked after a moment, his tone laced with irony.
He waited to hear her laughter, but there wasn’t any. When she sighed, he dropped his gaze from the sky.
“Not really.” Her answer caught him off guard.
“Well,” Malum said, and then shifted, stretching his legs out in front of him. When he leaned back on his elbows, he added, “I’m listening.”
“I think you are right about Northwoods,” she said. “He is horrible for my sister.”
She was figuring things out, but not quickly enough.
