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Malachi was prowling toward her before he realised what he was doing. She noticed, but she didn’t look afraid. In fact, the scent of her intensified, her euphoria from the successful night of hunting her victim quickly compounding with the scent of something thick and almost eager.
She stumbled when he was finally upon her, like his aura alone was enough to knock her off-balance. His hand easily went around her waist, steadying her, pressing her against him. Feeling her warm softness pressed against him nearly had Malachi’s brainignitingfrom the sensation. Her palms pressed flat to his chest like she wanted to shove him away, but she made no move to do so. Shetiltedher head back, meeting his eyes. Her throat bobbed with a swallow. The scent of her adrenaline was bleeding into something darker, something more sensual.
Malachi finally did what he’d been dying to do since they’d returned; he pressed his thumb to the centre of her lips. She inhaled shakily. He swiped the digit across the soft, pouting flesh, spreading the red of her lipstick until it stained her cheek and jaw like blood.
Fuck.
Her pupils had swallowed up her irises, her eyelids at half-mast. She was almost panting.
“Sweet, murderous Joy,” Malachi husked, his wings flaring, wanting to wrap around them both, like he could shelter them from the world. “You are exquisite.”
Her eyes dropped to his mouth, her lips parting. Her breaths were so fucking warm. “I—”
His tail flicked, wanting to join in on the fun. It found the slit of her dress and slid between her legs, tracing up the sensitive inside of her thighs.
It broke the spell. She jerked out of his arms, one hand grabbing the opening to her skirt, squeezing it closed. Her other hand went almost protectively around her breasts.
“Don’t …” She couldn’t seem to know how to finish the sentence. “Just—don’t.”
Malachi didn’t move as she practically ran. She pulled down the netting that hid her bed from the rest of the room, then just stood there. The netting was thick enough that he could only make out her silhouette,and nothing more. In the sudden hush, her breaths seemed very loud.
“Do you wish for me to leave?” he forced himself to ask.
He shouldn’t have pushed too far. He shouldn’t have done anything at all. He should have—
“Do what you want,” she replied flippantly. He watched her form twist away from him, heading for her wardrobe.
Malachi’s chest lit up. That wasn’t a rebuke. With a barely-there smile, Malachi silently headed for the sofa and sat so his back was to her, giving her privacy.
For some reason, he knew, like last night, she probably wasn’t going to sleep. He wondered if it was healthy—didn’t human adults need at least six hours a night? But he’d already done enough to disrupt her today, he wasn’t about to do more.
They sat in silence, and Malachi basked in how nice it was, even though they didn’t speak, to be in the company of another after he’d spent so long on his own.
And when she was finally forced to sleep, when dawn was just threatening in the horizon, Malachi felt a sense of peace he’d strived to feel what felt like his entire life.
FIVE
Some part of Joy knew she was dreaming. Since the incident, she fought so hard not to sleep, but some nights, her exhaustion managed to catch up on her, forcing her eyes to close, plunging her into a sleep she did not want because in sleep was where her demons resided. Herrealdemons, that is, not demons like Malachi.
At one point, she’d thought if she was exhausted enough, she’d simply black out and wake up none the wiser. She’d soon realised that no matter how tired she was, she would always be plunged into a more sinister version of the same nightmare.
She was walking up the stairs to her former flat, happy about something, though she couldn’t quite think of what. She was stumbling—she was drunk, which was weird, because she never drank so much as to lose her inhibitions, but the reason was explained away. She leaned against the wall to keep her balance, ignoring the way the world swayed almost hypnotizingly around her.
“Joy.”
She spun around, then looked over the railing and spotted him jogging up the stairs. She flew backward, slamming against the wall behind her. Her heart began to race. Fear abruptly replaced the happiness in her veins, making her feel lightheaded.
What was he doing here? Had he been following her? But he’d already—so, why did it feel like he wasjustabout to—?Nothing made sense. A part of her knew this wasn’t real—or even how it had happened—but the world that contained her dreams didn’t give a shit.
She turned and ran, but it felt like she was running through molasses. Her limbs were painfully heavy, and her breath rushed out of her like she was running a marathon. She stumbled to the door of her flat, fumbling the key in the lock. He was right there, right on her heels—
The door flew open. She quickly spun around and tried to press it shut, but he was pushing from the outside.No, please, no—
The door was shoved open. Already, her body felt heavy. She tried to reach out to fight him, but her limbs didn’t obey, forcing her to turn around instead and try to run again.
But he was on her—on her back, sending her falling violently to the ground.
She tried to struggle, fight her way free, but it felt like she was trapped—like there were heavy weights on her arms and legs and back, even though he was only kneeling aboveher.No, she thought, her heart pounding with terror, tensing with memory.No, no, no—
