A/n – I wrote this song to Hammer by Hanna Vu! I highly recommend listening to it throughout, but especially in the last scene, so I’ll put a  🤍 where that starts from!

I hope you enjoy! This with 29 are my new favourite chapters!

Also, this one didn’t go through my editor, so forgive the mistakes! I wanted y’all to have it this weekend!

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Malcolm

˚

“What about seasons?”

Aias tilts his head in my direction, offering me his ear while his stare remains on the ballroom before us where guests dance in their pairs. They’re attempting a synchronised waltz, but it falls apart as they do as they let themselves have fun.

Warren’s parties were called many things, but serious sat at the end of that list.

“What about them?” He replies quietly.

“Which do you prefer?” I clarify, only for his thin brows draw in slightly. “Assuming you have a preference for one, as most stable persons do.” Golden irises shift to me, carrying a warning I ignore. “Or is that too invasive a question?”

His jaw works, but I see the way his eyes warm before he shutters himself. “I like the rain,” he mutters plainly as he straightens to look upon the dancers again.

“You have a season solely for it in your realm? The rainy season?” I guess, and though he hesitates briefly, he nods. “There are similar seasons in certain parts of this world,” I tell him as I give the wall my back too, reclaiming our stance as wallflowers. “I’ve never lingered in those parts for very long.”

I think he’ll leave it at that, but then he surprises me for the second time tonight. “Why not?”

“Oh,” I shift, struggling to contain the excitement that bursts inside of me, “because I hate the rain.”

Aias’ head snaps to me so quickly that I fear for his neck. His lips part, but nothing comes out, not until he’s taken two deep breaths and calmed his heart some. “How does one hate the rain?” He asks stiltedly, like he hates to even say the words.

I shrug. “It is wet and brings about miserable moods.” He blinks rapidly, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to stop from laughing. “I prefer the clouds when they are backed by blue.”

His eyes ping between mine, flaring just like Lincoln’s did when I said something ‘offensive’ about one of his favourite books. It is a rare bout of expressiveness and I treasure it, even though he’s gawking at me like I’m crazy.

“I just do not like it,” I say when he does not speak.

Aias stare lingers for a moment longer before he huffs and drags it away. He shifts bout, fixing the arms held at his back before tilting his chin up. “There would be none of your blue skies without the rain,” he states matter-of-factly. “There is a balance to all things. Rain for the sun, and sun for the rain. The grey is needed.”

I watch him with a smile I can not tame and he does not make me.

“Very philosophical,” I eventually reply, and Aias is quick to glare at me, but it is not nearly as bruising as it used to be. Especially not when I step back, and he immediately follows after me.

I had not been lying when I told him that I wanted him to follow me. I just never imagined that he actually would. But then there he was, standing in the dark on the outer stairwell, dressed in his pretty silks and his ever-present scowl.

He wears a less harsh version of that frown as we walk out of the ballroom, quietly scanning his surroundings while everyone in turn watches him. And I am no better.

Aias on any given day was a treasure lost in this realm, but in the company of others, where he held himself as if he were the one throwing this party, he is ethereal.

He thought he was not properly dressed for it, but his white silks were their own beaut. There were no visible stitches to the ensemble, but it wrapped around him as if held together by millions of invisible pins.

While the trousers were loose and long enough to skirt the floor while he walks, the top blouse was a tighter fit that only opened at his neckline to tease the skin beneath. His long hair sailed after him, combed back with only a few strands to bracket his strong face.

He was perfection, sullied only by the collar around his throat.

To this day, I do not know why he insists on wearing it, but he has not once removed it since we met. It would make sense if he wanted to act the part of a slave in my company, but the last thing Aias with me was subservient, and he had never bothered pretending to be so amongst others.

But it was just one of the many mysteries that surrounded Aias. With patience, and a bit of time, I would figure them out.

“Should we find you something to eat?” I ask as we walk across this floor, passing the rooms without stopping inside.

His nose wrinkles slightly. “I do not think it is wise to experiment given what happened last time.”

“Oh?” I tilt my head. “What happened last time?”

Aias’ eyes narrow while his lips twist as if he is fighting a smile. I let him see mine.

Flirting has never been my forte. It is a life skill that has alluded me at every turn to the point that, according to Wequie, who is arguably the most seductive being in all the realms, I only manage it when I am not trying at all. If I remembered correctly, the moment I put effort is ‘akin to watching a sailor poke holes in their sails’.

Considering current circumstances, either I have finally somehow claimed the skill or Aias prefers his boats to have some character.

“No,” he replies quietly. “I’ll abstain for tonight.”

I hum, nodding even as I walk us to a tray of freshly baked treats. Aias blinks at me, unimpressed, but I do not move until he picks a plate and places two soft croissants onto it.

He does not eat it though and I know he won’t until his guard is down, so I lead us on, guiding him to the quietest section of Warren’s fortress.

We climb two more stories before the number of guests finally dwindles and then disappears entirely as we’re spat out onto the highest floors where the private quarters begin.

The halls here are not so monstrous, but more homely and pleasantly empty albeit for the portraits hanging on the walls that feature Warren through the decades and his ever-expanding family.

Aias slows us to survey them and something about him soon softens as he takes each of them in. “This is his clan?” He checks.

“I guess you can call it that, but it a small one, and he prefers to call them family.”

Warren’s clan was that in name alone. The group that now sat at about thirty or so hardly rivalled proper clans, and didn’t bother with titles and positions, or any proper structure for there matter. But they had a lot of love and loyalty for Warren that had never wavered and never would.

“Why are you not part of one?”

My eyes bulge as I come to a stop. “Of a clan?”

Aias nods as he stops at my side. “Or the leader of one? You are one of the oldest of your kind.” When I do not reply immediately, he raises a brow. “Unless of course, that is too invasive a question.”

A laugh escapes me, so sudden it startles me a little, and his lips twitch slightly.

“It is not,” I dismiss before I take a moment to think about it. “I’m not sure. I could never lead one. That would be far too much responsibility. As for why I’ve never joined one…” I glance up at the portrait between us, eying the smiles on each of their faces. “They’ve always felt a little odd to me. Clans were not something that was created with us.” I explain. “They came after, from younger ones seeking guidance and purpose… or both. I think I found that in other places by the time they came around.”

Aias hums, leaving it at that before he starts forward again, leaving me to follow him. We walk slowly, our steps soundless in the belly of the castle and after a while, almost unconsciously, he takes a bite from one of his croissants.

His eyes immediately bulge, dropping from the paintings to the treat before he looks at me. When he finds me already watching him, he quickly hides his surprise and I let him. Keeping quiet, I let him quietly scarf down each of the croissants, though he is too poised to let himself really go at it.

Eventually, he finishes it all and keeps his plate in hand while he continues his observation of the paintings. There are times he relaxes a little, but I can’t figure out why, and others when he frowns. He seems to frown each time he spots Warren.

“So you would not join a clan, but you do not mind interacting with those in them,” he states after a little while.

“Yes.”

“Is that why you are here trying to find information for Lincoln instead of him doing it himself?” He asks, eyes finding mine.

“You don’t miss a thing, do you?” I reply, tongue poking at my cheek as I try to wrangle the pleasure that spreads across my chest. It’s bad enough that I like him as he is, if he gives me more reasons to, I do not know where I will be.

“Neither do you,” he replies while he holds my gaze.

I swallow, shaking my head slightly before I lift a hand. He frowns a little but gives me the empty plate. “Lincoln is not very social,” I admit while I part from his side to set the plate down beside a vase of fresh egret lilies. “He would not know where to start and probably start by making demands. I am better suited for the talking, and him for the—”

“Violence?” Aias guesses as I drift back to him.

“Show of force,” I correct, and he makes a soft chuffing sound suspiciously close to a snort.

“Deftly put,” he retorts, echoing my earlier sarcasm. I laugh again, this time louder, and Aias smiles fully. “How are the two of you friends then?” He asks while I bask in the warmth of his happiness. “If he is so inept with socialising and you are not, how does your friendship work?”

“That is a great question,” I reply, clearing my throat as I step back, encouraging him onwards. We’re close now.

Aias fills the space at my side, closer than he has for the night. “Will it go unanswered?”

“No,” I whisper, holding my breath as our fingers brush. I wait for him to step away, but Aias stays as he is, allowing our hands the brief touch while we walk. My body stalls slightly, wanting to panic and celebrate. “I-I will answer, because unlike someone, I answer all your questions.”

That soft huff escapes again, and I collect it with the rest, even as I internally fall apart. Aias smiling was damning enough to receive, but paired with his soft laughs and his warmth held so close, I fear I might melt at his feet.

“It is a simple story really,” I start when I remember myself enough to speak. “I was at an end point. The world felt soulless. Everyone and everything seemed to harbour evil alone, and I… had run out of hope.”

I feel his gaze on me, but do not allow myself to meet it. He would see too much.

“I stumbled upon Lincoln around that time,” I explain, warmth gathering at my centre as I live the memories again. “He was helping a human for no other reason than to be kind. And you have to understand, at the time, I had never witnessed any of us do anything kind.”

The witches were to blame for the earliest atrocities we were forced to commit, but those that came after stood on our shoulders alone.

“It was confusing, especially when he was the first of us, but it also gave me hope when I believed there was no such thing.”

Some memories fade with time, their edges breaking apart and no longer feeling whole, but the memory of the first time I met Lincoln— not the First but Lincoln— had never once faded.

“Anyway, I needed to see more, so I followed him.”

“So this is a habit then?” Aias interrupts.

I am already grinning by the time I look at him, and I am glad to see he is still wearing one to match. “I do not think you are in any place to judge right now, Aias.”

“We have already established that we share many habits Malcolm,” he retorts, his eyes growing heavy as he looks me over. My breaths turn into pants as he slowly caresses me, and by the time they flick back up to mine, I know he sees it all.

Aias exposes the sharpest of his teeth as he angles his head to shift his hair back. “Continue your tale, Malcolm.”

I do not think I will survive this man.

“I followed,” I confirm, swallowing as I try to reclaim my earlier confidence, but it’s impossible when Aias is flirting back, and I am apparently incapable of functioning when that occurs. “He told me not to, and every time he sensed me, he would threaten to kill me.”

“A show of force,” he surmises, nodding and I laugh so loudly it travels down the hall. The space around him seems to waver impossibly. I blink, not trying my eyes, and sure enough, he is only as I know him.

“Yes,” I agree quietly. “It really was in this case because he never actually did. Maybe he wanted to, but Lincoln… Lincoln is a good person.”

A good person seemed the cruellest way to describe Lincoln. If there was one truth in this universe— one indisputable fact that could never be stripped from me, then it would be that there was no other kinder or more loving than Lincoln.

“To make a long story short, I got a vision when it really felt like he would end my life and it was of us in the future.” The memories return, both the ones I’d seen before they happened and then, when I’d lived them out myself. “Despite what he said, I saw us together us as friends. We were travelling the world and fighting side by side. There were great days, and bad ones, but we were together through them all… I saw us as friends.” I blink, trying to soothe the swell of emotions that knot my throat. “I clung to that vision. It was all I needed.”

Aias lets me work through the memories and all the tangled emotions that would forever link Lincoln and I together. He waits until I’m brave enough to look at him again before asking, “He believed in your vision as well?”

“Gods no,” I retort, laughing a little as Lincoln’s bewildered, slightly-horrified expression comes to mind. “He thought I was crazy after that, but I didn’t give up cause I saw what we would be. It only took four decades for him to see it too.”

Aias’ eyes bulge, the gold almost spilling out as he gawks at me. “Four decades?” He echoes. “Four of your decades you spent chasing his friendship?”

I nod proudly, and his lips part tellingly.

“To be clear, this was for the Lincoln I have met? That one?” He asks, forcing me to laugh again.

I can not remember the last time I laughed so much, or it ever feeling like this— a warm, near gooey feeling that is only rivalled by the comfort of his company.

“I am a very patient man,” I explain before I step back, closing the distance between us and the door at the end of the hall. “It was worth it. Lincoln was my starting point. Lincoln gave me hope.”

Aias stares after me, his expression impossible to read, but he seems to be sincerely mulling it over. I doubt it makes him like Lincoln much, but I hope it helps him see him as something other than the vampire who is falling in love with his friend.

When we near the door I mean to lure him through, I risk a question of my own.

“Do you have a friend like this?”

His blinks quickly, slipping from his revery. He does not reply, and his face becomes tellingly plain.

“You can not say,” I surmise, but I don’t allow myself to be dissuaded. “I should tell you, you not answering is telling enough.”

I wait, but Aias does not rise to the bait, and I stifle my sigh. There were lines Aias was willing to cross with me, but he seemed to plant his feet whenever someone other than him entered the picture.

🤍

“I am going to guess then,” I warn as I stop in front of the door to Warren’s blood bank. The scent of blood makes my mouth water, but I rein the hunger in tight. I lick my lips while I eye him. “Knowing what I know of you, I am going to assume that your closest friend is…” I drag it out, waiting until he dons his scowl again before I say, “talkative.”

Aias laughs and then immediately shuts his mouth as if he did not mean to.

“Oh, so they’re not! Interesting,” I whisper excitedly. I narrow my eyes, trying to strip him of his walls and find what he hides behind them. “So you’re both the stoic, quiet type.”

“I am not stoic,” he retorts, inadvertently confirming that his nameless friend is.

“You were,” I inform as I slide my hand over the door’s intricate glass handle, “before you started liking me at least.”

He raises a brow, humour spilling into his eyes beneath his lashes. “I like you now, do I?”

“Do you not?” I challenge, meaning it to be a tease and it is, but even so, I do not dare breathe as I wait for his answer.

He had to, right? I used to fear he would hate me forever, but the Aias who had hated me at the start would never have spent the night together as we had. Would never have laughed with me or looked at me so softly as he had more than once tonight.

And maybe I am being hopeful now that I am so stuffed with it, but… I can’t help but hope that he does.

Aias says nothing. He remains as he is, silently watching me before he eases his way into my space, drawing closer until his lips hover an inch from mine. He breathes in like he’s trying to steal a piece of me when he already has them all. His eyes shift between mine before his palm settles gently over mine. He squeezes, tight, and I sway towards him until he opens the door for us both.

“I am ready to end this tour, Malcolm,” he whispers, heavy gaze dropping to my lips and staying there.

My entire body vibrates, waking as electricity rattles through me. It does not help that there is a  year’s worth of blood waiting inside, coaxing me in and deepening my hunger for it and the man before me.

Mutely, I edge inside, my eyes never parting from Aias as he follows me into the dark nest that is Warren’s blood bank. Light brackets his outline as if the glow is coming from him, and maybe it is, because the gold of his eyes is more distinct than I’ve ever seen them.

Aias shuts the door behind us, and I jolt as it slams before darkness envelopes us, leaving only the light in his eyes and the distant glow of the gems that surround each vat of blood lining the walls.

Aias hardly takes note of it or anything at all as he stalks me and grabs me now that no one else can see. He takes a firm hold of my lapels to drag me to him and then spreads his hands beneath so that it is skin that he is touching.

He brings me closer, lips a hair’s width from mine, but I draw back before he can bring us together.

“Malcolm—” he hisses, his voice a deadly whisper that turns my short breaths into pants.

“You have to answer it first,” I reply, chest heaving as I hold the narrowed slits of gold.

“I have answered enough questions for tonight,” he bites out while his hands drift down to dig into my waist. “And I have waited long enough for this.”

My eyes fall shut and I can’t help but cling to him as he presses against my cheek to breathe me in. He makes his way back to my lips but I shake my head, pulling away again.

“This one is important,” I whisper, and almost wish I hadn’t when he stills in my arms.

He breathes against me, body as charged as mine, but he stays quiet and hidden behind his walls.

I tighten my grip on his silks, trying to tear them down. “Just tell me that you do.”

The darkness is our only witness but Aias still holds his breath as if he stands before a jury. The only sounds he allows are those of his rushed breaths, and the furious beat of his heart.

I follow its tune, memorise it, and wait, hoping he will give me this. He doesn’t.

Slowly, he drags himself back until he pulls away entirely, and I am forced to watch that glow leave him. He looks away, hiding in the darkness even though I can see him within it.

I turn before I am forced to watch the softness in him turn plain again, holding myself tight before the parts of me that begin to fall apart shatter. Steps hard, I head down one of the etched lanes, following the invisible lit path to where the scent of blood burns brightest.

“I am having blood,” I warn. Aias does not reply, but for whatever reason, he follows me deeper.

It is silent now, and uncomfortably so and I know I have made it so, but I can not make myself regret it.

It is not as if kissing were special to me, or something I treasured. I had kissed half the people downstairs, but Aias… Aias was different. And it wasn’t just because he was an elf. It was him.

Something about Aias called to me, made me feel like I was living after lifetimes spent dead. He brought me to life, and I did not think I would ever escape him. And it will be to my own detriment because apparently, neither can I stop chasing what I can never have.

I stop before the smallest of the large tanks of chilled blood Warren keeps, spelt to be kept by type without spoiling. This one holds Rhnull, and while I have never been the type to overindulge, this seems well-earned.

There is a sprout and a table set with fine chalices beneath. I take one, fill it to the brim and bring it to my lips. Then, I hesitate.

It was not as if Aias had never seen me drink blood. He had followed me to my own smaller stash before as if hoping to witness me commit some illicit atrocity, but that had been in our earliest days when he trusted nothing.

He had never seen me feed and that was a problem for another time, but still, it feels different now… intimate almost when I have already been so vulnerable.

“Malcolm,” he whispers, and I stifle the urge to turn to him as I tilt the cup instead and drink.

Blood rushes into my mouth, flooding quickly, and I swallow just as quickly. The pain of Aias quiets slightly as it comes— the euphoria, the bliss, the forever-brief moment of pleasure where a vampire glimpses what it might feel like to be alive.

My fangs ache in their confines, desperate to bite as I drink, but I control myself enough to gulp it all down before I fill the glass again. I had not drunk nearly as much as I probably should have since I woke up, and my body takes it all gleefully.

The space around me sharpens, my senses doing the same until the fire that buzzed and flared in my mind— the one that represented Aias feels like a roaring flame. It blazes against my back, demanding my attention, and I am too weak to ignore it.

I turn slowly, and maybe it is the bloodrush or the dark, but it is as if he glows— as if the space around him is eletrified and beneath I spot a version of Aias I have only ever dreamed of.

His expression is not plain, but a wild tapestry of misery and upset. He frowns, deeply, brows carved into two hard lines above his eyes that are steepled with distress. Then there is the tightness bracketing his nose, his skin strung tight.

“What do you want me to say?” He asks beneath that frown.

“Just—” I step forward, letting the chalice fall from my fingers as I press my hands gently to his chest, “Just… tell me it is the same for you. That you have fun with me. That it’s different.”

He looks angry and miserable, and also somehow, more sad than I feel which is not fair when witnessing such a thing turns the skies above my soul grey.

“It does not have to mean anything,” I promise even as my hope withers. “I just need to know that… that its different for you too.”

Aias does not look at me, his eyes pinned instead at the ground. He breathes quietly, his chest tense beneath my fingers, and the longer the silence continues, the deeper the darkness seems to feel.

“Is it?” I ask, voice shaking a little as I try to catch his eyes, but he keeps them averted. “Aias…”

“Yth—” He cuts himself off and sneers as his head lifts and he pins me with a stare that’s almost hateful. “I followed you tonight from your home— your home that I have stayed in since we met. I have indulged your whims more than I should have and ever wanted to. I—” he stops, exhaling harshly as he steps closer, “I am in a room full of blood with you, Malcolm.”

My fingers tighten around his and his fly up to grasp them, keeping them there as he searches my eyes— his wild and untamed, his walls shattered. “Yes, Malcolm,” he sighs, panting. “It is different.”

His lips press to mine, so gentle it startles me before he kisses me again, this one just as soft.

“Wait,” I pull back, stumbling as my world sways, but he does not let us part again. He gathers me in his arms and pulls me back to him. “Aias, no. I just drank—”

“And I do not care,” he rasps before his lips are on mine again, and he kisses me.

My eyes fall shut as I kiss him back, leaning in as he does the same, pressing to me as if he has been as desperate for this as me. My hands tremble over his chest, barely holding on while he digs his into me and kisses his way into my mouth.

I part my lips, barely breathing when I feel like I need it most, but Aias does not let me. He kisses me like he can not get enough, parting only to return from a new angle. I struggle to keep up, melting against him with each peck and tug, and then he takes my bottom lip into his, and I can not stand.

He keeps me upright, not even struggling to as he groans against me, and kisses me.

I am burning against him, but inside as well, as he shares his light with me, pouring it into me with each brush of his lips and scrape of his nails against my skin. It kindles inside of me until I hunger for it above all else and part my lips so he can give it to me.

Aias curses my name before his tongue slips inside, and then I really am falling apart.

“Aias,” I moan against him as fireworks go off inside of me.

He hums, but does not pull away, and I do not want him to. I hold him tighter, finding his shoulders before I wrap my arms around his neck and let him pull me against him. He groans, but keeps me as I am, tongue sliding over mine before he claims that too.

The party continues beneath us, but Aias and I stay where we are as he kisses me until everything else becomes dull compared to the bliss of his lips on mine.

———————

AHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THEY KISSED!!!!!!!!! THEY KISSEDDDDD!!!!!!!!

THOUGHTS????????

I FEEL LIKE A SCHOOLGIRL LMFAOOO! But nah, they kissed and it was so sweet and hard and them!!! UGH, I am obsessed with these two cause they’re really here struggling just to let themselves be together! ugghhhh

And malcolm has no fucking clue just how much Aias likes him cause Aias is barely even figuring that out, and he just wants a little confirmation that he’s not the only one feeling things ughhhh my baby

Okay sorry for the freakout, I actually do want to hear everyone’s thoughts sooo please please pleaseee share!!!!

I am so obsessed with this chapter and 29, it’s just so sweet and wholesome. I love them so much ahhhhh

Like and comment if you enjoyed! The next update will be out next weekend!!!!

Until next time,
Byeeeeeeee Humanssssssss