PART 2 OF THE DOUBLE UPDATE!!!!!

IF YOU DIDN’T READ CHAPTER 17 THAT CAME OUT LAST NIGHT, MAKE SURE YOU DO BEFORE ENJOYING THIS CHAPTER. 

It’s my new favourite 🤭

————

Malcolm

˚

“To explain, I was sleeping and something woke me up. My theory at the moment is that that was likely your arrival or your magic— no, that sounds like I’m blaming him.”

Turning on my heels, I try again.

“I have never owned a slave. Not truly,” I wince, but carry on quickly. “I do buy them, which I know is terrible, but it is the most practical method in freeing them without incurring any future danger.”

That does not sound so bad, but it is not any better either.

“My name is Malcolm… which you already know because I have only told you a hundred times,” I groan as I slide my fingers into my hair to grip the roots. “Gods, be good.”

I am used to speaking to myself. It is a habit one procures when the future randomly inserts itself in a mind, but usually, it is because I simply need a method for expelling my thoughts.

I have never needed to plan what I wanted to say to another.

Whatever has spilt from my lips has been sufficient enough thus far, but it would make sense that it would differ when it came to an elf.

To Aias.

His name is as gorgeous as the rest of him. A convergence of wholly common letters and yet… alien and wonderful. Aias. It is regal and beautiful. Handsome too.

I can not stop it from looping around my mind, nor do I want it to, for on each rotation, it lathers me in a quiet comfort of stillness. Like whenever I am in his presence, the upset that had triggered this entire saga only calmed itself when some part of him is near.

“Perhaps I did go mad in the coffin,” I mutter as I let my arms fall at my sides.

A glance around pays me an appreciated view of the kitchens without layers of time over them. My favourite shade of emerald green coats the covers, and though a repaint is desperately needed, it still warms the space like the cream and brown wooden countertops.

It is soft, which is precisely what I had wished for after a lifetime spent with hardly any softness.

The kitchens are also the nestling point in which so many I have brought to me have learned to trust me. I cook and talk, feed them time again, until eventually, they talk back.

Somehow, I already know it will not be quite the same with him, but it is all I have.

I wish I hadn’t threatened him. Though I had not truly threatened him. It was more of a warning. And I did not regret it. He was about to hurt Lincoln and having witnessed what he was capable of, I could only act.

I did not know which was more surprising: how shocked he appeared at my intervention or the fact that it worked to stop him at all. What was the least surprising, on the other hand? Precisely how terrible it felt to stand beneath his unflinching stare.

New era, same Malcolm.

“I did not mean to leave you naked,” I mumble, practising once more as I open my newly stocked cupboards to spy what I might woo him with today. “If I were to tell the truth, I would say that I had not noticed, which I know is no better and sounds ludicrous, but from the moment I entered that slave house, I wanted to grant every soul on that stage the only respect I could.”

“Is that so?”

I jolt, almost tearing the doors of the pantry off their hinges as I twist to face him. Aias.

He stands just inside the entryway, his head tilted high as it so often is, while his sharp eyes skim over the kitchens with silent satisfaction. He seems pleased that it is clean, and while they still require much attention, with him standing here now, it becomes the perfect backdrop.

The early morning light teases the tips of his long ears, adding a sheen that illuminates his irises too. His long hair is brushed perfectly down his back, not a single strand exposed over his shoulders.

He wears clothing I have not seen in eons— a billowed blouse and leather trousers, and yet on him, they appear brand new.

I stare at him, learning every inch I can since it is the first time I have glimpsed any part of him since Lincoln and Kalem passed through, and that was days ago.

Since then, he has kept himself sequestered in my rooms, leaving only to check on Kalem in the dead of night, and even then, he disappears before I can get close enough.

So, I can not be blamed for staring, and staring until he drops his golden eyes onto me, and raises a shapely brow.

“Hm?” I say quickly. I straighten and then brush my own clothes, hoping I haven’t adopted any of the dirt I cleared away. “What was that?”

Brow dropping, a now familiar glare returns as his gaze flicks between mine. “I have come to speak to you.” My eyes widen. “I have questions and I want you to answer them.”

“Okay. Y-Yes, of course,” I stammer as my entire stomach turns inside out with nerves. I close the pantry before I step forward. His eyes drop to my feet, and I still. Stay far, got it. “Ask anything.”

His nod dips once. He eyes me for a long moment, as if deciding if he truly wants to do this. I silently pray to him and the Gods to.

“Who is Diablos?”

My eyes widen once more. “Diablos?”

Of all the subjects we could discuss…

“Who is he?” he repeats, gaze stern.

“Diablos is the vampire who owns the slave house you were kept in,” I explain with a slight frown. “He has many, and with the… direction our species has taken, he controls many of us. He is also the second-made vampire.”

I am not sure if he will know what that means, but confusion does not show itself on his face. In fact, nothing shows but distaste.

It is not directed at me, personally. A small relief. He would not enjoy talking to any other vampire; it just happens that it is me, and that there is no other option.

“Who is the first-made?” He asks.

I hesitate.

It is not as if it is a secret that it is Lincoln. Any being old enough knew that, but this elf’s interest in Lincoln was not lost upon me. He looked as if he always wanted to murder him, and yet, when he was here with Lincoln, sick, he had let them go.

Not to mention, of all the vampires he should want to kill, Lincoln should be at the top of that list for hosting his apparent friend, and yet he remained untouched.

The threat of me could not be that large.

“Lincoln,” I answer after a moment, watching him closely for his reaction.

It is minuscule, simply an easing to the skin between his brows that would suggest relief if elven cues matched this realm’s. Relief? Perhaps satisfaction.

“Why did he take Kalem?” He asks next, and this is far easier to answer.

“I have no idea.” He frowns. “It is the truth. Lincoln has never ever taken an interest in a slave other than to free them.”

“He is not a slave,” Aias sneers as he steps forth, teeth bared. His ears fold down as he does, and I can not help but stare. “There are no slaves, only victims of your species’ tyranny.”

“…Yes,” I agree slowly. “I mispoke. I apologise.”

Nose twitching, he slowly recalls his rage, bottling it back inside the exquisite being that he is.

“Lincoln did not even wish to be there that night. He was present only because I was.”

His frown returns to deepen, but he remains silent. My chest tightens, but I try to ignore the feeling. So he is interested in all but me. He has already made that clear.

It is not his fault that I have not yet learned how to stop wishful thinking.

“Your friend allows the slavery,” he concludes.

“What?” I reply, startled.

“He is the first of your kind, you stated, and the strongest from his actions that night,” he states unflinchingly. “And yet, the second carries out the depravity and spreads it. This Lincoln allows it.”

“No, he does not. He has tried many times to stop it. We both have,” I correct with a frown of my own. “Each time, it has only grown worse because of our efforts, so we do what little we can.”

He does not believe me. Everything else, he does, but not this.

I see it in the way he looks at me, as if I am misguided.

“We have tried,” I insist, but still that stare remains hard and unforgiving. “I have tried,” I say instead, hoping that— and, yes.

His stare softens, only by a measure, but the distinction is what causes it. Lincoln will be awarded no grave, but me…

“When I got to an auction, it is only ever with the intention of freeing someone,” I state as I hold his stare. It is as heavy as his judgment, but I withstand it. “I have never owned another, and I never will.”

He scoffs as he turns, hair sailing through the air. He is done with me now that his questions have been answered, and for once, I am not entirely overwhelmed by the urge to retain his attention because I am more focused on that scoff.

It did not sound as if it was born from disbelief, but rather the complete opposite. It might, in fact, have been sardonic agreeance.

My skin warms, and refuses to stop.

I watch him stride away, his steps as assured as the rest of him, but then suddenly, he stops.

My breath catches, and when he turns again, I do not think it will ever part.

He looks angrier now, which makes no sense because I have done nothing in the handful of minutes that have passed, and yet—

“Why were you at that auction?”

I blink frantically, and that glare turns damn near murderous.

“Diablos, you speak of with disdain, and yet, there you were,” he continues while he marches back into the rooms, reclaiming his lost space and then some. “Ready to bid. To free someone, you say, and that someone was me. But if you are not a ‘bad vampire’ as you claim, why would you be there, at his?”

My lips part, but he is not finished.

“And when that other one was here, you said you did not want to be there— what was that to mean?” His golden eyes glow fiercely as he narrows them on me. “Why were you there? Tell me all of it.”

He speaks a lot when he is angry.

And he does want to know more about me. Not just about Lincoln and Kalem, and fucking Diablos, but me.

My insides warm, furthering the heat already compelling me. It washes over me, making me fist my hands if only to keep them still.

“All of it,” I manage to echo like a dummy, and he nods stiffly.

“Tell me the truth.”

Okay. We are diving into the deep with the crazy, but there’s no other choice.

This is the first time he has ever shown any real interest in me, and I would rather him think me a lunatic than a Master.

“I was asleep. Vampires can go into deep slumbers, and I was in one,” I start while my fists slip behind my thighs. “I felt… something. I do not know what it was, but it was unlike anything I have ever felt, and it woke me. That is strange because we can not be woken by anything other than ourselves.”

He stares unblinkingly at me, focused.

“That feeling stayed within me long after I got out of my coffin. It felt— feels like a physical pull,” I correct before I lick my lips, and force myself to slow before I fall into a ramble. “It led me to the auction, and to… you.”

Anger evaporates, banished by the sharp and sudden ushering of surprise that displays itself over every inch of him.

His ears stiffen, elongating at the tips while his plump lips fall open. Those golden eyes almost double in size, and with only his heart beating between us, I hear the way it stumbles.

He does not speak immediately, trying instead to find his words, but then he’s blinking and frowning at me.

“You are saying an unknown force awoke you and led you to me?”

The overheating worsens. I nod.

His eyes dart all over me before he takes a step back.

“When was this?” He asks, snaps really. “When did you wake?”

“A few months ago, I think. I was sort of stuck in my coffin before Wequie, my friend, got to me,” I explain, growing quieter the longer he stares at me as if I have exposed a third hand. But I’m hiding the only two I have. “I am sorry.”

His head rears back as if I just said a slur. “Why are you apologising?”

“Because this is all very strange and undoubtedly disturbing, and—” I don’t want you to run. I have to take a breath to stop myself from voicing those words or sounding as if I am whining. “—I am just sorry.”

Aias stares at me, and I can’t tell what he’s thinking because I have to look away.

I feel embarrassed, which makes absolutely no sense because no part of this was my fault! I was sleeping, I was wasting time away, and now, I am here, trying to please an elf who hates me.

“Are you hungry?” I ask when time stretches on without another question.

I look up when he doesn’t reply, and he’s back to looking offended.

“I have more food,” I explain with a gesture to the pantry. “If you tell me what you want, I can prepare it.”

His eyes narrow, suddenly returning to the ever-present anger. “You are strange.”

I frown. What the hell did I do to deserve that?

He steps back, moving as if he means to leave again, but just the thought of that has my body seizing this time.

“Why are you here?”

He stills, stiffening as if I have managed to touch him again. No, I have learned from all the biting.

“…what?”

Something in the air has changed, not just his scent, that shifts from wet grass to something far more bitter, but the air itself. As if a fist has somehow managed to wrap around it.

I shift.

“Why are you here?” I repeat, boldly. “Still here, with me?” More shifting. “Why do you stay when you do not have to? I know you do not have to.”

“Oh, you know that, do you?” He retorts, stepping forward again.

“Yes,” I reply, stealing one of my own that surprisingly does not get me chastised. “You can leave, yet you stay. And you keep that collar on.”

I gesture to it with my chin while the rest of me buzzes, hyperaware of how close we are. There is still too much space between us, practically an ocean’s worth, but it’s the closest we’ve been without his nails or teeth trying to tear a chunk out of me.

“Why?” I ask, feeling brave now that I stand at the centre of his attention.

It’s heady, having him focus on me, and not just for information. But it has always been like this for me— the reaction I have to people like him, try as I might to escape this part of myself.

The only difference is that it has never been this visceral before.

“Because I am still deciding when is the right time to kill you,” he replies in a sneer, as he claims another step towards me. I can feel his body heat now, and it is intoxicating. “Because I want to.” Another step. “Because my revenge is my own and I will do with it as I please.” One more. “Because. I. Can.”

He stands right in front of me now, only a step left between us, and even that is paper-thin with the way he leans towards me. There is a fire in his eyes, built of roaring flames that threaten to scorch me while he glares at me.

I am taller than him, by only a measure, but the height is there. It does not feel like that. It feels as if I am beneath him, as if he is towering over me with a sword at my neck.

“You’re lying.”

I probably should have left Lincoln and Wequie a note before I tried offing myself.

In my defence, I had no idea that this was where the day would lead me, or that I would be here, standing in the middle of my kitchens, actively aggravating what might just be the most volatile creature currently in our realm.

But alas.

Beneath my feet, something warms, and I know magic too well to mistake it as anything but that, even if it’s magic from outside of this world. He’s going to burn me alive.

“You’ve killed every person on your hit list. If I were on it, I would be dead already,” I whisper while my eyes dart between his. “You either need something from me or you want to be here.”

He laughs, but humour is the last thing to be found within it as the temperature beneath me rises. “You act the fool and then expose yourself at moments like these. I see it. I see you.”

My heart, fragile and tattered, attempts a shift for the first time in what might be my entire life. But it can not, so I am left breathless with skin that engulfs itself by the stewing flames beneath.

I see you.

If it could beat…

I see you.

These words join the concert that started the moment I laid eyes on him, adding a new note that is louder than the rest but blends in so easily. It tears me apart, sews me together, and erases some other useless part of this world to make more room for him.

I see you.

Everything. He feels it. He is it, because he… sees me, and even if he does not mean it the way I hear it, I hold onto the fantasy that he does because no one has ever seen me.

Not for one day in my life.

“You will not trick me, so stop trying,” he snaps, twisting and slapping me with his hair before he stomps off.

I watch him go, still searching for air that evades me even though this is a moment when I desperately need it. I sway, hands finding the closest counter and holding tightly to it to keep me upright.

He still thinks I am playing some sort of game with him because he doesn’t trust and I understand that fully. I would not trust me either if I were him.

But he will see, eventually, that there is no game. That there is only me, and when that moment comes—

Wood strains beneath my fingers, and my lips split apart, shifting into a grin so wide it hurts my cheeks. I try to bite it back, try to rein in the excitement before it is too much because I know better, but I can not help it.

I have not felt this excited for anything in decades.

And he is elven— from another world, maybe…maybe with him it will be different, whatever is to come from us.

Biting my cheeks, I pray to the Gods that it is.

————————————————

okay, apart from that last line, which if you know you know, AHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

TENSION!!!! TENSION PEOPLE!! I’M BITING THE FUCKING STRAPS OFF MY STRAIGHT JACKET!!!!!!!

Thoughts????????

Thoughts on that scene at the end ugughh?? Thoughts on Malcolm calling Aias out???? Thoughts on Malcolm being the cutest, sweetest fucker ever. 

This is my new favourite chapter loool. I just love the interaction with Aias being frustrated and annoyed, and Malcolm pining openly, but also pushing back a bit. I also love that it’s all out in the open now so Aias stops being so confused loool.

But that second to last line… I just want to hug him.

Please share any and all thoughts!! I want to hear what you guys are thinking and feeling!! And vote if you enjoyeddd!!!!

The next chapter will be out sometime between next Friday and Sunday! 

And in the meantime, if you haven’t seen already, the Alpha Mates cover for publication is on my Instagram

The book will be published in December, and pre-orders start from next week!

That’s all for now! 

Until next time,
Byeeeeeeee humanssssssss