5. Evelyn

5

EVELYN

A s we navigate the narrow, winding streets of Tangier's medina, I can't help but steal glances at Malakai. His gruff, commanding nature both annoys and intrigues me. One moment, he's barking orders and insisting on taking the lead, and the next, he's praising my quick thinking and resourcefulness. It's enough to give a girl whiplash.

"Keep up, little human, move those short legs," he growls, his tall frame easily weaving through the bustling crowd of locals and tourists. "We don't have time for dawdling and shopping."

I roll my eyes, adjusting my grip on the ancient texts I managed to snag from the library, their worn leather covers warm against my skin. "I'm going as fast as I can, Your Highness. Not all of us have your inhuman agility, you know."

He shoots me a smirk, his eyes glinting with amusement in the dappled sunlight that filters through the medina's canopy. "I didn't realize you'd been paying such close attention to my movements. You like what you see. Why wouldn't you? But what I need for you to do is focus. Focus now and perhaps I will reward you with more later."

I feel my cheeks heat up, and I quickly look away, focusing on the colorful stalls and intricate mosaic tiles that adorn the walls. "Don't flatter yourself. I'm just stating a fact."

As we make our way through the medina, the sights, sounds, and smells of Tangier assault my senses. Vendors hawk their wares from every corner, their voices rising above the din of the crowd. The aroma of spices, grilled meats, and sweet mint tea fills the air, making my stomach growl with hunger.

"Fresh fish! Straight from the Mediterranean!" a weathered fishmonger calls out, his stall overflowing with glistening sardines, plump shrimp, and ruby-red snappers.

"Handmade carpets, fit for a palace!" another vendor shouts, his colorful rugs and tapestries fluttering in the breeze like the wings of exotic birds.

The medina is a riot of color and texture, from the rich, earthy hues of the spices piled high in woven baskets to the intricate geometric patterns of the tiles that adorn every surface. The people, too, are a vibrant tapestry, with locals in traditional djellabas and kaftans mingling with tourists in bright sundresses and floppy hats.

As we pass a stall selling ornate brass lamps and intricately carved wooden boxes, I can't resist running my fingers over the smooth, polished surfaces. The craftsmanship is exquisite, a testament to the skill and artistry of the Moroccan people.

"See something you like?" Malakai murmurs, his breath hot against my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

I jerk my hand away, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "Just admiring the handiwork," I mutter, quickening my pace to put some distance between us.

As we continue our journey, a sudden growl emanates from Malakai's stomach, breaking the tension between us. He looks down at his abdomen, a wry smile on his face. "It seems even demons need sustenance from time to time." He chuckles, his eyes scanning the bustling market stalls. "And I must admit, the scent of those spices has been driving me to distraction."

I can't help but smile, my own stomach rumbling in response. "I guess even inter-dimensional beings aren't immune to the allure of Moroccan street food."

Malakai's gaze lands on a nearby stall, where a wizened old man is grilling skewers of heavily spiced meat over a bed of glowing coals. The aroma is intoxicating, a blend of cumin, coriander, and saffron that makes my mouth water.

"Two, please," Malakai says, holding up his fingers to the vendor. He produces a heavy purse that thuds heavily on the counter, pulling out two solid gold pieces and passing them to the wide-eyed and surprised vendor. After insisting he cannot, he settles for one of the smaller silver coins and deftly plucks two skewers from the grill and wraps them in a piece of wax paper.

Malakai hands one to me, our fingers brushing briefly in the exchange. I feel a jolt of electricity at the contact, as if the spices on the meat have somehow made their way into my bloodstream.

We find a quiet spot near the edge of the medina, a low stone wall overlooking the city's rooftops. The sun is just beginning to set, painting the sky in shades of orange, pink, and gold that seem to glow from within.

I take a bite of the meat, the flavors exploding on my tongue in a burst of heat and spice. Beside me, Malakai does the same, his eyes closing briefly in pleasure.

"I have to admit," he says, licking a stray drop of sauce from his lip, "you humans do have a way with food. This is almost as satisfying as a good battle."

I raise an eyebrow, taking another bite of my skewer. "I never thought I'd hear a demon compare cuisine to combat."

Malakai shrugs, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "What can I say? I'm full of surprises."

We eat in companionable silence for a few moments, watching as the sun sinks lower on the horizon. The light is fading fast now, the shadows lengthening and blurring together like spilled ink.

"I could almost forget why we're here," I murmur, my gaze fixed on the distant mountains. "Sitting here, eating this food, watching the sunset... It feels so normal."

Malakai nods, his expression unreadable. "But we can't forget, Evelyn. The fate of the world hangs in the balance. We have a job to do."

I sigh, the weight of our mission settling heavily on my shoulders once again. "I know. It's just... nice to have a moment of peace, however fleeting."

Malakai's hand settles on my knee, his touch searing even through the fabric of my jeans. "We'll have plenty of moments like this, once we've stopped the apocalypse. I promise you that."

I meet his gaze, my heart stuttering at the intensity I find there. "I'm going to hold you to that, demon boy."

He grins, sharp and wicked. "I'd expect nothing less, little human."

The sun finally slips below the horizon, plunging the world into darkness. But as we make our way back to the temple, I can still feel the warmth of Malakai's touch on my skin, as constant and unyielding as the desert heat.

"Aha!" I exclaim, my heart racing with a mix of excitement and dread. "I think I found something."

I swallow hard, my finger tracing the faded ink on the page, the symbols seeming to twist and writhe before my eyes. "It's a passage about a powerful demon king who was sealed away by the gods eons ago. It says that the artifact we found is the key to releasing him and starting the apocalypse."

Malakai's eyes widen, and he snatches the book from my hands, his fingers brushing against mine, sending sparks of electricity up my arm. "Let me see that."

He scans the passage, his brow furrowed in concentration, the ancient words reflected in his glowing eyes. "Well, fuck," he mutters, tossing the book aside, its pages fluttering like the wings of a trapped bird. "This just got a whole lot more complicated."

"You're going to bring about the apocalypse?"

"This humid and crowded realm? And play ruler and host to it for all eternity? Stupid girl. I thought you were a scholar of this world. Of course not."

"So what do we do? I certainly don't want the world to end either."

I nod, my mind racing with the implications of my discovery, the weight of the world suddenly feeling very heavy on my shoulders. "And those mercenaries and demons who attacked us? I bet they're working together to summon a demon."

Malakai nods, a grim smile tugging at his lips. "Smart girl. So you aren't entirely useless. That's good."

I scoff, crossing my arms over my chest, the rough fabric of my shirt scraping against my skin.

He chuckles, the sound echoing off the temple walls, sending shivers down my spine. "Don't sell yourself short, little human. You've got a quick mind and a sharp tongue. Those are valuable traits in my world."

I feel a flush of pride at his words, but I quickly tamp it down, focusing on the task at hand. "Yeah, well, flattery will get you nowhere, demon boy. We still need to figure out how to stop the apocalypse from happening."

Malakai nods, his expression turning serious, the planes of his face carved in harsh relief by the dancing flames. "You're right. And the first step is making sure you can defend yourself against any more demonic attacks."

I raise an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at my lips. "Are you offering to train me, Malakai? I didn't realize you cared so much about my safety."

He rolls his eyes, but I can see the hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Don't read too much into it, sweetheart. I just don't want to have to keep saving your ass every five minutes."

At the break of dawn, our training begins, the clang of steel against steel ringing. We are staying at my little villa and training in the backyard. My home, albeit temporary, should be a sanctuary, and yet, Malakai is a harsh taskmaster, pushing me to my limits and beyond, his movements fluid and graceful as a desert snake. He teaches me how to wield a sword, how to anticipate an opponent's moves, and how to use the enemy's mistakes to my advantage.

At first, I resist his methods, my stubborn pride getting in the way, the heat of the Moroccan sun making me irritable and short-tempered. But as the days pass, I begin to see the value in his teachings. Malakai is dedicated to keeping me safe, even if he has a funny way of showing it.

"Again," he barks, his sword clashing against mine, the metal singing a deadly song. "And this time, don't leave your left side open."

I grit my teeth, my muscles screaming with fatigue, sweat dripping down my back and pooling in the hollow of my throat. "I'm trying, damn it. Not all of us were born with supernatural strength and stamina."

He smirks, his eyes glinting with mischief, the torchlight dancing across his tattooed skin. "No, but you were born with a brain. Use it."

I narrow my eyes, a surge of determination rushing through me, as hot and fierce as the desert wind. I feint to the left, then quickly spin to the right, my blade slicing through the air towards his unprotected flank, the move as fluid and graceful as a dancer's.

Malakai parries my blow with lightning speed, a surprised laugh escaping his lips. "Not bad, little human. Not bad at all."

I can't help but grin, a feeling of pride swelling in my chest, as warm and bright as the Moroccan sun. "Told you I was a quick learner."

He shakes his head, a smile tugging at his lips. "So you aren't entirely useless."

As we continue our training, the ancient temple our constant companion, I can feel something shifting between us. The animosity and annoyance that once colored our interactions are slowly giving way to grudging respect and understanding, as subtle and inexorable as the shifting of the desert sands.

I still find Malakai infuriating at times, with his arrogance and his tendency to take control. But I'm also starting to see the man beneath the demon, the one who is fiercely loyal and determined to protect those he cares about, as steadfast and unyielding as the temple's stone walls.

And though I'm loath to admit it, even to myself, I'm beginning to kind of like him. But only in a Stockholm kind of way, of course. Who could love that devilishly handsome and demanding demon lord?

"Alright, I think that's enough for today," Malakai says, sheathing his sword, the metal rasping against the scabbard. "You're improving quickly, Evelyn. Keep this up, and you might just survive after all."

I roll my eyes, but I can't quite keep the smile from my face, as bright and warm as the Moroccan sunrise. "Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence, sir."

He chuckles, his hand coming to rest on my shoulder, his touch as searing as the desert sand at midday. The contact sends a jolt of electricity through me, and I have to fight the urge to lean into it, as instinctive and irresistible as a moth drawn to a flame.

"Anytime, little human," he murmurs, his voice low and full of promise, as deep and rich as the colors of the medina. "Anytime."

And as we stand there, our eyes locked and our bodies thrumming with the aftermath of our training, the ancient temple a silent witness to our bond, I can't help but wonder what other surprises this infuriating, intriguing demon has in store for me, as vast and unknowable as the Sahara itself.