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“Don’t,” she said, a little sharply. He heard her swallow. “Don’t,” she repeated, softer. “Please.”
Malachi tried to breathe normally. After a few moments, he had to ask—he had toknow.
“Can you at least tell me why?”
Joy was silent. He was almost afraid she wouldn’t say anything when she finally turned around to face him again. Her eyes were shiny.
“I just—it’s too much.” Malachi’s heart shrivelled to a dried up husk. “I just feel I need some time, after everything, to learn to be on my own again. I can’t—it feels like … there was my grief, then my work … and thenhim; then there was—for a long time, there was justnothing—not even me.” She blinked rapidly, fighting back tears. “Then there was my revenge. And then … there was you.” Her gaze dropped to the sheets. “All with absolutely no space in between. It’s just … it’s too much. I need to be on my own for a while. I need some time so I can findmeagain.” She met his eyes again, her doe brown eyes shiny. “Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Malachi whispered, even though his heart was fucking breaking. He cupped her face, wiping away the tears gathering like dewdrops on her eyelashes. “I understand.”
She pressed into his touch, her eyes clenched shut, her jaw gritted.
I can wait, he wanted to tell her, urgently, desperately.I’ll wait for you. For however long it takes.
But he didn’t think it would be fair to ask. He held her instead, waiting, listening to her breaths, until her body softened and her breathing deepened into the rhythm of sleep.
He retracted his arms from around her and slid out of the bed. She immediately pulled the covers around her, like she subconsciously felt naked and she wanted to hide.
Malachi moved through the aether to the crime scene, unable to be in her presence any longer. His chest felt like it was caving in. Fuck, he wasn’t going to be able to go back to that room ever again. Would he be able to go back to his house? With her scent, her laughter—the memories of her holding his hand—of her making love to him in his bed—
He shook his head violently. He couldn’t bear to think about it right now.
Despite the fear taking root deep in his stomach—once the bond dissolved, and he lost his contract with Joy, would Desmond’s soul be enough to carry him until he found another one?—he manipulated the aether to clean up the room, getting rid of all the angry stains of red, along with any signs anyone else had been here. The man’s body was next, thestabwounds closing up with a mere thought from Malachi.
When he was done, the man lay prone on his bed on his back, sheets tucked around him, one hand on his pillow, the other on his chest, like he’d simply died in his sleep.
The bond in his chest snapped the moment he’d finished, making him gasp. He’d gotten used to the warmth, the tether linking him to Joy, and felt bereft now that it was gone.
He straightened, hands clenching by his sides, bracing himself for the loss of power. While he did feel weaker, he must’ve underestimated the power of the soul he’d acquired; he didn’t feel as weak as he’d expected, and he wasn’t flickering between the mortal and astral realms like he’d feared.
But he was still afraid to trust it. For now, Malachi had one last spell he needed to do, then he was going to conserve his energy until he could find another contract, and hopefully, another soul. Just to be safe.
After, he would have to learn to go back to a life where Joy had never existed.
Joy hadn’t meant to fall back to sleep. When she opened her eyes, waking up from what was probably the best sleep she’d had since the incident, surprisingly, she found herself back in her place, tucked into her own sheets. She sat up with a lurch, her heart pounding. For a delirious moment, she wondered if it had all been adream.
The flat was empty. It felt … weird. Not just empty, cavernous. Joy distractedly rubbed at her chest; she felt like there was a hole behind her ribs, like something was missing.
Guilt and a flash of pain stabbed herat the memory of Malachi’s voice—of the naked hope in it when he’d said her name.
She clenched her eyes shut, violently shaking her head. It was over. He must’ve completed his end of the bargain, hence this emptiness in her chest.
She left her bed, startled when she found herself dressed in the clothes she’d worn to Malachi’s castle. Her crocs were beside the rest of her shoes by the wall. He must’ve used his magic to get her here, so he wouldn’t disturb her.
The pain came again. She ignored it. This was good. This was fine. What good would saying “goodbye, it was nice while it lasted” have done, anyway? It was better like this; ripping the BandAid off and all that.
Joy squared her shoulders. It was over; it was done. It was time for her to get back to her old life, starting off with renting abiggerflat. She hadn’t lied to Malachi; she needed some time to be on her own—toliveagain, now that her rapist was dead and no longer had that strong of a hold on her and her life.
She was sure, the more she got back into the rhythm of how her life had been before the incident, whatever lingering feelings she felt for Malachi would begin to feel more and more alien, and like it’d never happened at all.
FOURTEEN
A few weeks later
Joy entered Argungu, clutching the strap of the purse slung over her shoulder. She looked around, then beamed when she spotted her best friend waving dramatically at her from one of the booths in the corner of the restaurant.
“Gosh, I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever!” Iyore exclaimed as Joy approached their table, standing up so she could hug her.
