Malcolm

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“…Bloodsucker.”

I shift my gaze and look upon the figures acting in this wild play named a ‘show’.

I only last a minute.

Aias’ lips tighten. “I will make you leave.”

I do not doubt it, so I look away again and force myself to stare at the television, just as he does. But unlike him, I take little notice of the premise behind the pre-obtained recording.

I continue to focus only on the elf sat beside me. Though, beside is quite a generous term.

There is at least eight feet between where he lies on the floor and where I sit, but it is an allowance I do not take for granted. A week ago, I could barely share his air, let alone intrude on any of his space. To sit with him was monumental.

I smile. Taper it when his golden eye flares with warning at its corner. Then, I smile again.

I can’t help it.

“You are annoying me now,” Aias snaps, and it’s as if he is trying to further my smile.

“How so?” I counter. “I am watching the television.”

“You know what you do,” he retorts, his voice like ice. “Stop it. Now.”

Days ago, I would have believed he was truly upset— before he had apologised for his actions and before I became something other than strictly his foe. But something had changed between us, and now, I can only take note of the fact that while his tone is harsh and his presence cold, he does not feel like either of those things.

He only feels warm.

“Malcolm.”

Pleasure swarms my insides.

“I am sorry,” I reply, sitting straighter. “Though I do not know what I am apologising for and someone recently told me that I should not be so irresponsible with my apologies.”

The television carries on, filling the room with voices that neither of us pays attention to.

Aias’ attention tunnels through the side of my head, and I manage to resist the barbed temptation until I crave his glare more than a reward for being obedient.

Blazing eyes scorch mine beneath furrowed brows. I sink my teeth into my gums.

“When I lock you out of this manor tomorrow, do not cry to me. I will not hear them.”

A chuckle slips past my lips as I lean back on my hands. “You are always so quick to go for the extremes.”

“You drive me to them,” he snaps dismissively.

To think that I can drive him to do anything is a dizzying thought that I happily swim within. I should not. I should have enough respect for myself not to crave scraps of him as desperately as I do, I know this, but this time I can not be blamed.

He is an elf. He is otherworldly. And he… awakens in me thoughts and sensations that bestride any I have ever felt before.

He is— I look at him since he is no longer looking at me, mumbling curses of how I am an energised gnat he will soon squash, and find my shoulders loosening as I take him in again.

While I sit on the ground with nothing but a cushion beneath me, Aias has draped himself across the blankets and pillows he’d tugged free from the remaining boxes. They should be the accessories to the sofa I planned to build today, but then I found him in this plush bedding of his own making, and now he lies here like an angel.

His long golden hair falls over his shoulders, perfectly straightened and oiled. His lashes are the same, long and thin, where they fan over his shapely cheeks. While his skin is fair, the food and comforts here have brought a gentle flush to his skin.

It opposes those vexed eyes that shift back to me now, narrowing when he finds me staring, again.

“Malcolm, I swear, I—”

“No more names then?”

Aias’ lips part as if he is about to berate me for interrupting him, but then he takes in what I have said. His mouth slams shut, lips pressing into a tight white line, and vexed no longer covers it.

I do not like angering others, it’s always been the opposite, and Aias is not an exception, but provoking him is sadly the best way to elicit a reaction from him that isn’t stark indifference.

So, provocation it is until I unearth how to make him happy.

But my games are put to a sudden and unfair end as Aias parts his gaze, looking towards the open windows. I follow his gaze, but there’s nothing there and by the time I look at him again, he’s shuttered his gaze.

“You have company approaching.”

My lips part, wanting to ask a myriad of questions, from how are you able to sense things that elude even my senses to why is it that you suddenly look as if you regret every word we’ve ever shared.

But I can not ask either of those things or any of the rest, so I nod sharply, stand to my feet and head for the door.

I know it is Lincoln long before he breaches the gates and I reach the doors because while my senses are dull in comparison to Aias’, they are still functioning, and forever attuned to the chilled imprint on this earth that has never once wavered.

But he doesn’t seem in a rush, his approach slow with the boy, Kalem, in tow.

I use the time to ready something for the small human to eat. One that should not upset his stomach, and leave it warming on the countertop before I meet them at the door just as Lincoln knocks.

“Well, would you look what Satan dragged in.”

Lincoln sighs and I grin.

He looks far better than he had the last time I’d seen him, far better than I have seen him in aeons in fact. Lincoln made it a terrible habit to only drink enough blood to stave off the biting but not fatal torture that starvation became for us, but nothing more.

But that habit seems broken for his body has filled itself in, from his muscles to his face, all full with a slight hint of colour beneath his otherwise pale skin. And his hair, it’s not dull, but a rich, healthy jet black, just like his sullen eyes that hang tiredly on me.

“It is unfortunate to see you as well,” he replies, walking in without invitation. The boy follows quickly and I study him while I shut the door behind them.

He looks better too, holding his food, it seems. He is livelier like this— brighter— and not quite so terrified as he shadows Lincoln’s every move.

“I need to speak to you about a rather annoying matter,” Lincoln continues with a flighty glance around. “Where’s the elf?”

My jaw tightens for a moment, locking as if to keep the information. I frown.

“Watching the television,” I force out. Lincoln raises a brow, and the rest happily comes spilling out. “He’s teaching me the new world. It truly is amazing, Linc. It has so many of these—” I pause to find the word, “—shows! And the quality… it is as if they are right in my room— the people on the screen. And it is not demonic or magic!”

Lincoln blinks at me once, slowly. “Thank you for sharing that useless knowledge and wasting a good minute of my eternal life. Now, where is the elf?”

I scowl, but this is Lincoln, the vampire I chose as my eternal companion in this life, so I turn and lead the way.

They follow close behind, and while I can understand why Kalem looks around so frequently, Lincoln’s alertness is rather strange. He is… rattled seems the wrong word for it, but something is not right.

Aias is right where I left him, laying on the ground and watching the television. His attention does not stir as if he does not hear us or even know that we are here, when I know it is the complete opposite.

Ignoring Lincoln and me, I would understand, but his friend that he was so terribly protective of?

My eyes narrow, and then slit further when Kalem rushes straight for him, jumping on his back with the excitement of an unleashed puppy. Aias rolls, feigning surprise while the human who could barely form a sentence without fearing punishment squeezes Aias for dear life.

“Is that you, little one?” He asks, dragging Kalem over his shoulder for their gazes to meet. They widen and ignite, and while I am sure the joy is true, and the relief as well, the rest of it… “Oh, how I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, Aias,” Kalem replies, and he sounds close to tears. “I’ve missed you so much.”

It dawns on me then, uncharacteristically late like a note unfurling itself for me to read, that while this human is the only one Aias left to live with a vampire, this is one he cares for, deeply. I should have released it from their last visit, but I’d been distracted by the fact that he was speaking, even if it was not to me, and had missed the rest.

Perhaps there was a reason why he left the human with Lincoln that did not include avoiding a match with him.

“Don’t cry, little one,” Aias replies as he pulls the boy to him for a hug, his touch gentle— protective. “We are both safe now and together once more. Don’t cry.”

Safe. What an odd choice of words for a being that thought vampires were anything but…

“Is this adorable or what?” I say the words to Lincoln, but they are for Aias and he knows it by the way his eyes dart up over the human’s shoulder.

They narrow and mine do the same.

“Not really,” Lincoln mutters, his tone cold enough for me to look at him.

He is glaring at Aias as if he holds a cleaver to Kalem’s neck rather than a handle.

“Someone’s jelly.” Lincoln’s glare zaps me, going from lethal to warning. “Ohh, someone’s really jelly.”

“Shut up,” he snaps. “Why does this place look like such a dump?”

Damn. “Rude,” I reply with a sigh. “I just woke up— I do not know why I have to keep reminding you all of that.” I glance at Aias and the skin between his brows crinkles. “I was planning to mount the television and build the sofa, but I live with an elf who refuses to help.”

Aias helped unpack the majority of things, he only drew the line at building, and that was just fine with me, but again, provocation.

“The elf will break your nose if you keep referring to him as the elf,” he snipes back, golden eyes flaring with warning while he rubs a hand over Kalem’s hair, petting him.

I feel myself frown, feel my chest tighten too, and Lincoln’s reaction no longer seems so ill-suited. Aias’ lips twitch.

“I think you should listen to the elf,” Lincoln retorts, making Aias’ pleasure morph into rage in seconds.

“Did you only come to bring Kalem to see Aias, or was there something more?” I say, cutting in before the unease in my chest can deepen. I liked eliciting responses from Aias, it was not so enjoyable watching others do it so easily.

At my words, Lincoln turns with sudden seriousness and the restlessness that had plagued him when we first arrived returns in quick measure. He grabs my arm, pulling me away, “We need to talk.”

Lincoln drags me out of the room, taking me away before I can steal a glimpse of Aias, but I already know there’s no chance of Lincoln or me listening in on whatever he plans to talk about with the human.

I can already feel the swell of his magic rising from wherever he draws it from. It’s not like witch magic with drags things in, pulling literal life from all the elements around. His is more like… it’s already doing something, without him having to activate a spell. Aias is the honing beacon, his magic a waiting, eager servant.

My chest pinches again, and I have not the slightest clue as to why.

“I don’t quite understand why you’re pulling me,” I grumble as I try to free myself from Lincoln’s stiff fingers. “I know how to walk Lincoln.”

“Malcolm.” It is all he says, but it is enough for me to huff and clasp my lips shut.

Lincoln’s patience was fleeting at the best of times, at the worst, it was nonexistent.

He hauls us into a room near the entrance, an all study I had sparsely used but had been Wequie’s nook for journaling when he had started coming to himself again. It is void of his books now, all those in his home, but I can still picture them and him. I graze the memories, and then fill them myself as I sit in the window seal just as he used.

I would need to reach out to him, see him soon, but before then, I look up at the friend who is here, and needs me for whatever reason.

“Alright,” I say with a sweeping hand. “What is it?”

“Diablos sent fifty-three men and women to my castle to take Kalem back.”

Well… it was good to know Diablos still feared Lincoln to a sensible degree. With another, he would have shown up himself and he would not have taken so long to do it.

Lincoln stares at me, and when I realise he is waiting for a reply, I give him, a sufficiently rounded. “Oh?”

The muscles in his neck flex. “You’re not surprised.” I nod. “Did you know he was coming?”

“That is the second offensive thing you’ve said to me today,” I reply with a huff. “No, I have not even spoken to Diablos in centuries. But I did expect as much to happen, eventually.” Lincoln’s brows tug together, confused. “You took one of his slaves— his most valuable of the night, and you did it in front of a sector of the community. I take it, word has spread and he is facing allegations of being weak— vulnerable even. Retaliation is the only option in a position like that.”

Lincoln blinks at me as his frown fades, and his mouth almost curls into a smile. “It is hard to remember how smart you truly are when you so rarely use your brain.”

“He knew they wouldn’t succeed, knew he was sending his people to their deaths,” I continue on, not bothering to ask if that was the case because Lincoln did not believe in taking prisoners. “It was probably a warning, if nothing else.”

“There was a letter,” he supplies lately, “the last one standing handed it to me before pulling his heart out.”

I grimace. Dramatic vampires like that gave us such a wretched reputation.

“He wants me to give Kalem back,” Lincoln continues, “if I do not comply, he’s threatening war.”

Dramatic. My fingers tap against my arm where they are folded while I stare at my friend.

I already know where this is going, but it seems he needs me to help him spell it out.

“Well? Are you going to comply?”

“Kalem is not something to just give and take. He is a person,” Lincoln grinds out, venom lacing his tongue.

“Says the man who literally took him,” I reply, having long since grown accustomed to his poison. “I’d say the simple solution is to just give the man the fee which you owe.”

I say the words even knowing that he will not, because while I could put aside a matter of right and wrong for a greater outcome, Lincoln would not do such things. His moral sprouted in odd areas, but refused to wilt once they did.

“I am not going to pay for him and treat him like a slave!’

I did not expect the rage, not to this magnitude. Lincoln was affected by so little, passing through the world from behind his filtered wall of indifference. Even with Wequie and me, he still insisted that we were nothing to him.

Yet, with this human he has only known for a week if so much, rage spouts behind lava.

“So you’d rather keep your pride than appease Diablos with what is probably spare change to you? Hm?” I ask, standing to look him in the eyes. I shove the questions in his face and do not let him ignore them. “You’d rather let the boy suffer through blood and war for an unknown length of time, so you do not have to go against your unwavering values?”

You would try this again, for him?

I had meant what I said to Aias, I had tried to stop the slave ring that had plagued my species, and so had Lincoln, but we had never gotten far enough. Never because to do so, someone would have to fill Diablos’ seat and do more than he ever dreamed.

That could never be me. I was not a leader. It would have to be Lincoln, could only be Lincoln as the first, but it was the mantle he always refused.

Would he refuse it again now?

“I am not going to support their disgusting practices in any way,” he bites out, fists clenched tightly at his sides. “I will not do that to myself or to Kalem.”

I stare at him, searching for something in his gaze that will answer my true question, but he does not hear it or see it in my eyes. Not yet then.

“So, what is the plan and my role in it?” I ask instead.

Lincoln’s gaze softens, flashing with gratitude and sweeter emotions he would never admit to. “I’m going to kill him. He won’t stop until he’s made an example out of me, which could never happen, so I must kill him.”

The back of my hand muffles my laughter as I peer at him, amused.

Not Pylen. Not yet, but soon.

“Don’t make it sound like such a chore,” I reply instead, smile widening as I stare at my oblivious friend. “We both know how long you’ve wanted to rip that bastard’s head from his body, and how long I’ve wanted to watch.”

Lincoln smiles, and it’s no hidden thing.

“But it will not be so simple,” I say before he can grow too excited. “Knowing Diablos’ mind for war, he is probably prepared for every attack. By the time we cut through his barricades, he’ll be behind another.”

“I need him to face me, to draw him out of his little hiding spots,” he replies with a firm nod.

“I will think of something— reach out to a few contacts, and make the necessary preparations where I can,” I offer, dormant parts of my mind already waking to unravel this. There was nothing I adored more than a challenge.

“Thank you, Malcolm,” Lincoln whispers, and this time, every inch of him softens with his gratitude.

“You’re welcome. Think of this as my form of repayment for Aias.”

Lincoln’s brief tenderness dies, replaced instantly by resolute annoyance. “Think of this as a favour. You still owe me one million.”

I had to try.

“Whatever. Be a pilgarlic,” I grumble, only just managing not to raise a finger like an infant. “While I’m performing my ‘favour’, you bring down all of his strongholds that we know about. Corner him to act out of anger, rather than intelligence.”

“Sounds good.”

“Good,” I say before my mind quickly wanders back to the one who has claimed it since I woke up again. A nettling itch starts beneath my skin. “Are we done now? Am I free to return to Aias?”

Lincoln’s eyes narrow suddenly, sharpening as he looks me over as if he might not recognise me. “You quite like this… elf, don’t you?”

I still, or rather, try to. It is hard to beneath his stare, harder with the subject being who it is. I consider lying for a moment, pretending with this as I do so much else, but this is Lincoln. He knows me best— knows why I put myself to sleep, and how long it’s been since I felt anything that wasn’t horribly negative, let alone this bright.

“He’s special, Linc,” I whisper, the words pouring quickly now that I’ve freed them. “Something about him is just divine.”

More than something, closer to everything, but for once, words fail me.

“That’s good. I am… happy for you,” Lincoln replies. It is awkward and jilted, and it makes my skin crawl as we frown at one another. “It is weird not insulting you.”

I nod. “I feel it too.”

He relaxes as if freed from some vow as we make for the door. “Just be careful with him, Malcolm.”

“I am,” I reply, but it is a blatant lie that Lincoln sees through. His eyes latch onto mine, their stare serious and unflinching.

“He is an elf, Malcolm.”

He says it as if that means something, as if he is some terrible monster meant to tear me apart. But it feels the opposite. I do not know why or what it is about him that compels me so, but when I am near him, I feel as if just his presence might mend all the broken parts of myself that I pretend hold no cracks.

I feel seen, and whole, which is true to me, but could never be to Lincoln’s ears, so I keep such details to myself.

“An elf who hasn’t removed my collar,” I say instead, “he must like me some.”

“Or he’s in deep shit and knows how to hide.”

I don’t realise I was smiling until I feel it slip away. It takes with it my joys, leaving only a dull type of dread that threatens to drown me.

I knew Aias was not here for me, I was not stupid. Clearly, he needed shelter for a period, and I just so happened to be the one who was providing that at this moment. He did not seek my company the way I did his.

I knew that, but it doesn’t make hearing it any easier.

Worst yet, because it reminds me of the day when he had threatened me for real. There was no sort of recognition in his eyes, no sort of care or light play. Only deadly intent as he had asked me how I knew the name.

Ythene.

I rang in my head like all the pieces of Aias I stole, important and yet meaningless to me while I remained his clueless companion, and even that was not true.

“What did you do to him?”

I look up, meeting Aias’ waiting gaze. Somehow, we’ve found our way back to where we’d left him and the human, and they are right where we left them. Aias gazes back at me.

I look away first. “Nothing,” I answer while I try to muster myself.

Silence reigns and I can feel his eyes on me, but I can not gather the strength to face him. Not even an hour ago, we played this very game, but it is not the same now. Not with the blatant reminder that I am playing them alone.

There is shuffling, enough for me to glance up as Aias stands finally. He stretches, moving languidly toward the boxes piled against the back wall.

“It hurts my neck to watch the shows from the ground,” he says, hand curling around his neck before his eyes catch mine, “come help me put these together, imp.”

I hear Lincoln suck in a breath beside me, likely appalled or surprised, but that is as much of the outside world my mind allows in before I am rushing to his side.

He calls, so I go. I go, quickly, and happily, because, well—

Aias bares his teeth once I’m at his side, glares at me, and all his usual antics, but he does not move away from me, does not try to separate us, and more importantly, his gaze keeps fixing itself upon me.

“Imp?” I whisper under my breath. “That’s a new one.”

Aias hums shortly, and I think he will leave it at that, but then he whispers, “Seemed fitting.”

“I am a mischievous child?”

“You—” he starts with something sharp at the ready, but then our eyes catch again.

I hold my breath, and it is as if I really need it with the way my chest tightens as he looks at me. Eyes darting between mine, something glimmers within those golden irises, something warm and just for me.

“You are mischievous and cunning,” he replies softly, his words a near murmur as his gaze roves over me, moving lower, “but not a child… You are far from that.”

I sway, losing my footing as I stare at him, drown in him. It is only my desperate grip of the table before us that keeps me from falling, but that is only in the physical.

In my mind, in my spirit and body, I fall. I plummet through the floors and this world, realm too. I fall and I have no chance of saving myself, none.

I don’t even want to because, for once, I am not playing this game alone. Aias is right here beside me, with all his secrets and a past I may never know, but here.

“You are doing it again,” he mutters, voice cold, eyes warm and on me.

I shiver, lips curving upwards. “Doing what?”

Aias’ eyes glow tellingly, pleased before he huffs, and looks away. I force myself to do the same and even though we have not moved an inch, I am breathless.

Breathless and falling face-first for the elf at my side. 

———————————

This book and Malcolm being so sweet is actually killing me🫩

Thoughts????????

Thoughts on these two flirting more and more???? On the convo with Lincoln from Malcolm’s POV and their little whispering at the end?!?!

I love both their POVS, but I love Malcolm’s cause he sees and shares so many little details, like he is switched on while trying so hard just to get Aias to look at him, ugh my sweet baby.

I can’t wait until Aias is the one showering him with affection and care, but then I hurt so much cause I know what’s the comeeeee

I hope you enjoyed either way, if you did, please comment and vote!

Next chapter should be sometime next week! Sneak peeks are on Patreon and my website for the Gold Tier!

Until next time,

Byeeeeeeeeee Humanssssssss