Chapter 16

Mal, like Ari, is stuck inside his own head. He's letting his demons rage as we fly for a while, diving and dipping and swooping in pointless patterns as he battles with himself.

My suggestion to go find food was a ruse to get him out of there and moving. He needs to stretch his wings and fly, to shuck off his worries and insecurities. If we truly were going to get food, we'd have flown straight from the tower to the kitchen.

He needs this more than Arianwen needs her next meal. Besides, she's exhausted. I wouldn't be surprised if she sleeps all night after her mind shut down like that.

Mal's been turning wild, losing himself through the centuries as we age and crumble. He needs Arianwen to anchor him, but he won't let her in if he thinks he's failed her. Mal is always hardest on himself.

His words may be brave, and sharp, but the gargoyle beneath is like an injured animal – wary, untrusting. Even with us. Especially with me. I wish he could see himself the way that Sax and I do, see how good for him Ari will be, how good for her he could be…

Eventually, when he's burned off some of his energy, we find our way into the manor kitchen.

Gargoyles and grotesques do not require food, and I only know how to prepare meals because I've been watching humans for a long time. There have been one or two people over the years who have shown me a few tricks, but otherwise it has always been something I practise on my own, away from Mal and Sax.

I grab a large black pot with a lid from a shelf and place it on the stove top, ignoring Mal as I wait for him to settle. He stands behind me, tail in his hands, face downcast, while I find a wooden chopping board.

Opening the fridge seems to bring him back into the room, and he jumps up and sits on the kitchen worktop as I pull out the ingredients for a simple vegetable soup.

"Why has this always fascinated you?"

The corner of my mouth tugs up into a small smile. "We have watched over the manor for hundreds of years." I chop up an onion. "We've seen countless people come into this world, and leave it when they die."

Lifting the chopping board, I drop the onions into the pan and add a dash of garlic and black pepper before drizzling oil. Then I light the stove, and give everything a quick stir with a wooden spoon.

"They have had riches, been on the verge of destitution. Come from different places, different religions and different classes. And yet…" I cut the carrots into chunks. "Yet nothing seems to bring people together and give them comfort, joy, happiness like a meal with those they love."

Mal arches his brow, but I just smile again. "I want to bring the people I love together, just like a good meal does."

He frowns, focusing back on his tail as it wraps around his wrist, the tip digging into his palm.

Scoffing, he doesn't meet my gaze. "Well, it looks like you'll have everything you want soon enough. Sax looks very cosy with Ari. She also seemed to like you well enough last night."

He's always been like this, so full of himself that the second he takes a knock, it's like everything falls away. I hate seeing him in this self-doubt, self-pity spiral. I need his smart mouth and razor sharp barbs.

"And what about you?" I tilt my head as I add my carrots to the pan.

While I wait for the onions and carrots to soften, I peel potatoes, chop them and add them to the mix. The smells filling the kitchen are earthy and fresh in a way that makes this space feel like the kitchen of a happy home…instead of a barely used room in an evil, twisted manor house.

"What about me? I'm just in the way. I–I froze. I couldn't help her."

"Malachite…" I say softly.

"Don't pity me," he whispers roughly, his voice thick with emotion.

"I don't pity you," I reply, reaching out to touch his shoulder lightly. "I care about you."

His shoulders tense at my touch, but he doesn't pull away. "I never asked you to," he mutters, dropping his gaze to the floor. He looks almost like a petulant child at this moment.

"That's not how it works." I chuckle. "I love you, no matter how much you hate me. We're family."

"I don't–I don't hate you, Jas," Mal admits in a low voice, his expression vulnerable.

"You don't need to lie to spare my feelings." My heart aches with his admission. "You rarely let me touch you. You don't like it when I'm near you. I'm not completely clueless."

"Fuck. That's not…it's not…" Malachite trails off, his brow furrowed in frustration as he struggles to find the right words.

I wait, showing him patience and understanding. The gargoyle clearly has something he wants to get off his chest, and I need to channel Sax's wisdom and let Mal come to me.

"You're younger than us. Smaller. Softer, somehow," he eventually continues, his tone tinged with a mix of admiration and concern.

"I don't want to hurt you, or Ari," Malachite confesses, his voice wavering with a hint of desperation. "I'm going to ruin you both. Break you. And I can't…"

In a surge of determination, my hand shoots out, grabbing the back of his neck with a firm grip, mimicking the gesture I've observed Sax do countless times. With a fierce intensity in my eyes, I pull his face down to mine.

"You can not break me," I declare defiantly, pleased that my voice echoes with a strength and confidence I don't usually possess. "I'm a magical being made from stone. Do your worst."

As the tension between us simmers, Malachite's gaze softens, his eyes meeting mine with a depth of emotion that speaks volumes. One he rarely allows me to see.

Without a word, Malachite closes the distance between us, his hand reaching up to gently cup my cheek. The touch of his skin against mine sends shivers down my spine, igniting a fire within me that I can't deny.

I've wanted this for so long, have loved Mal for so long, but he's always kept such a distance between us. He only allows Sax to touch him because he craves contact, and there's been no one else around to fuck for decades. Besides, he needs our big Daddy grotesque to put him in his place every now and then. He doesn't need or want anything from me. Or so I thought.

A mewling sound falls from my lips, causing Mal to smirk a little, but it's not unkind. Leaning in slowly, our breaths mingle in the space between us, charged with an undeniable electricity. And then, our lips meet in a soft, tentative kiss, sending waves of warmth coursing through my entire being.

I purr.

I didn't expect Mal to be so gentle with me, and while my heart feels full to bursting at him finally accepting me, I'm a little offended that he's still treating me differently to Sax.

I huff.

Taking control, I deepen the kiss, fuelled by a hunger that has been building between us for far too long. Our bodies press together, fitting perfectly as if they are meant to be intertwined. Our tails interlace, forming a unique connection that neither of us have with Sax, and the sensitive grate of his skin against mine makes me shiver with longing.

Everything else melts away, leaving only the raw, primal passion that consumes us both. We lose ourselves in each other, surrendering to the intensity of our connection.

Malachite's hands roam over my body, tracing every curve and contour with a reverence that sends a thrill coursing through me. He's never touched me like this before, and I find myself pressing back into his hands, silently asking for more.

With each touch, each caress, the heat between us rises, igniting a blaze of desire that threatens to consume us whole. We pull each other closer, our hearts pounding in sync as we revel in the intoxicating rush of sensation.

And then, with a hunger that borders on desperation, our lips find each other again, moving with a fervour born of longing and need. Time seems to stand still as we lose ourselves in the passion of the moment. We become two souls entwined in a dance of desire and longing.

But even as my heart soars that we're finally completing our family the way we were always meant to, a part of me still struggles with the knowledge that Malachite is only allowing himself to be vulnerable with me in this moment because he's hurting and feeling unwanted. I need to show him that isn't the case. Sax and I both love Mal, and Ari will too if he lets her in.

I need to find a way to make him see that. To make him understand. He's needed. Our family wouldn't be the same without him. I wouldn't be the same. This can't be a one time thing between us. I can't let him pull away and go back to treating me with barely disguised contempt.

As our kiss deepens, a surge of possessiveness washes over me, a need to submit to him and let him claim me as his. I want him to know that there's a tender affection between us that transcends mere physical desire.

I caress his cheek, savouring the coolness of his skin against my fingertips. Our breaths mingle with sighs and soft murmurs of pleasure. I feel more connected to Mal than I ever have before as I lose myself in his kiss, his touch. Beside us on the stove top, the soup bubbles away, completely forgotten.

After the others leave, Ari remains curled up in my arms, seeking comfort where she can find it – be it with her face buried in my neck or nestled into the crook of my arm.

It's the first time in centuries that I have ever wished to share body heat. It would be nice to warm Ari, to offer that solace, but instead I rely on the blankets and the fire that Jasper built to keep her comfortable. My cool-to-the-touch skin doesn't seem to bother her because she manages to doze off with her head on my chest.

As Ari sleeps, a sense of peace settles over me. I watch the flickering flames of the fire dance in the darkness, casting a warm glow over the room. Despite the centuries that have passed, this moment feels timeless, as if the world has faded away, leaving the two of us in our own little sanctuary.

I gently brush away a strand of hair from Ari's face, marvelling at the delicate features that seem so out of place for our shabby tower room.

Silently I promise to do whatever it takes to keep her safe, for as long as she will have me and my brothers by her side. I vow to protect her at all costs, shielding her from the dangers that lurk outside our fragile bubble of warmth – even the dangers in her own mind if that's what it takes.

She stirs, murmuring something in her half-slumbered state, a frown marring the beauty of her face. She cries out, jerking in my hold as her eyes snap open in panic.

"Ari, it's okay. You're safe," I whisper softly, tightening my grip around her, attempting to ground her with my touch. She blinks rapidly, trying to orient herself in the dimly lit room.

As her breathing gradually slows, she looks up at me with a mixture of fear and gratitude in her eyes.

"I-I'm sorry," she stammers, her voice still laced with remnants of whatever nightmare had gripped her moments ago.

"Don't apologise, Arianwen. You have nothing to be sorry for," I reassure her, brushing a thumb across her cheek to wipe away the lingering tears. The vulnerability in her gaze tugs at something deep within me, a fierce protectiveness that makes me tighten my resolve to shield her from harm.

Silence settles between us, broken only by the crackling of the fire and the sound of our intertwined breaths.

"What happened?" Ari's voice is barely above a broken whisper, scratchy from all the sobbing earlier.

"Mal found you, upset and unresponsive. We brought you here to our…space. I wanted you to be safe. What do you remember?"

"There was a phone call…" she begins, hesitantly. I nod, silently encouraging her to continue as I stroke her hair. "It was…him."

Him.

The Lord of the Manor.

A title he's undeserving of. The mere mention of his name brings a snarl to my lips. He is a darkness, looming over us like a storm waiting to break.

Ari's eyes reflect the firelight, and in them a deep, lingering terror. I'm unsure of the conversation that occurred, but it's like the weight of his words have wound their way around her in a suffocating shroud.

Her thoughts are broadcast clearly on her face, a struggle playing out in her mind as she tries to recall what had her so upset.

She swallows, before pushing herself up into a sitting position. "I don't know what happened. I couldn't speak. And then I couldn't breathe. He said he'd be back soon."

I say nothing, allowing her to continue at her own pace. For a few minutes, she remains silent, fingers anxiously twiddling with the edges of the blanket.

"I don't want him to come back," Ari finally confesses, her voice cracking, as if she's afraid speaking the words aloud will conjure him.

She wraps her arms around her knees, and rests her cheek on them.

Sitting up beside her, I place my arm around her shoulder offering this gesture as a show of solidarity and protection.

"We will protect you," I swear. She gives me a small nod but there's no conviction in her eyes.

"Is that what you were dreaming of?"

"No."

"Do you want to talk about it?" I ask, sliding my hand down her back and rubbing small circles, offering her a connection to keep her in the room with me instead of retreating inside her own head.

With infinite patience, I wait for her words, knowing how important they are. I would wait decades to hear her open up to me, centuries even, as long as it takes – it doesn't matter.

I want Ari to feel safe, to be comfortable confessing her innermost thoughts and desires, to share her hopes and dreams, as well as the nightmares that haunt her.

"I dreamt of my mother," she eventually whispers, her gaze glassy. "She's been on my mind a lot lately."

I hum, acknowledging her but continuing my silent support.

She sniffs, rubbing her nose with the back of her hand. "It's like she's haunting me. Lingering on the edges of my mind."

Ari bites down on her bottom lip, chewing it between her teeth until I'm afraid she might break the skin.

Gently lifting my finger and pressing it against her mouth, I free the poor flesh from her gnashing. "Why do you think she's haunting you?"

She blinks. "Because it's all my fault."

Again, I wait. Silent. This is about her.

Clearing her throat, she glances away. "I should have been the one who died. It should have been me."

Her guilt almost visibly weighs her down. This, and the poison Carver feeds her, is what has been trapping her inside her own mind like a prisoner. The burden she bears is a heavy one, but I'm almost certain it is not entirely hers to bear alone.

"How did she pass?" I ask gently, as I pull Ari onto my lap, deciding that there is too much space between us even though we are sitting with our shoulders touching.

She moves easily, pliable and compliant as she settles with her legs wrapping around my waist. "Car accident."

"Were you the driver?"

"No." She rests her forehead on my collar bone while playing with the ribbons on her nightgown in the space between our chests.

I gather the hair covering her face as she continues to hide from me, and drape it behind her carefully. "Did you cause the accident somehow?"

"No…" she murmurs. "No. But we wouldn't have been in the car at all if it wasn't for me."

Placing my hands on her hips, I lay a gentle kiss on the top of her head.

She sighs. "I?—"

"Did not kill her." I keep my voice firm. I will tell her every day if need be. I will remind her over and over again that the guilt that is eating her alive is misplaced. It was an accident. A situation outside of her control. She does not owe the universe her sanity or her soul.

Her blue eyes lock with mine, watery and conflicted. "But…"

I place soft kisses on her forehead, cheeks and the tip of her nose. "When you are ready to forgive yourself, perhaps she will no longer haunt you. No?"

Ari laughs weakly as her arms come around my neck, "Are you really real, Daddy Sax?"

Chuckling, I raise a brow. "Still confused about that, little dove?"