Page 81 of Avidian
Orin tenses, his deranged grin faltering a bit. “Big talk for someone playing babysitter to Father’s pet.”
“Careful,” Malachi murmurs. He leans in slightly, his gaze unwavering. “You don’t want to test me. Not today.”
Orin lets out a dry laugh, but there’s a flicker of unease in his eyes. “What’s your problem, Mal? She’s an Avid. A tool. Don’t tell me you’re getting all worked up over her.”
Malachi straightens, rolling his shoulders like he’s shaking off the weight of the conversation. “My problem is you. Showing up uninvited. Grabbing what doesn’t belong to you. Acting like you’re untouchable when we both know that’s not true.”
Orin raises an eyebrow, his cocky façade slipping slightly. “Are you threatening me?”
Malachi steps closer, so close their faces are almost level. “I don’t make threats, Orin. I make promises. You put your hands on her again, and I’ll make sure the next hole you dig is for yourself.”
Orin doesn’t move, but his grin falters completely, replaced by something darker—something more cautious. “You’ve got a funny way of showing loyalty to Father,” he mutters, stepping back. “Maybe I’ll let him know where your priorities really lie.”
“Do that,” Malachi says, cold. “See how well that works out for you.”
They stare at each other for a moment before Orin lets out a sharp laugh, holding up his hands. “Fine. You want her? She’s all yours for now. Enjoy her while you can, but don’t come crying to me when it all blows up in your face.” He scratches at his beard thoughtfully then gestures toward the house. “Mark my words, there’s something off about her. She’s headed for a bad end and doesn’t know how to stay out of trouble.”
Malachi watches him get into his car, his fists clenched at his sides, his jaw tight. Only when Orin disappears down the road does he relax slightly, rolling his neck before turning back to the house.
I move to the front door, and as soon as Malachi steps inside, he closes the space between us, his arms pulling me into him. My forehead presses against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat calming me. The tension from earlier begins to unravel, his warmth like a shield against everything that happened tonight. My heart clenches, a warning I ignore. I’ve been so careful to keep my distance to protect my heart and keep my feelings in check, but I fear it’s a battle I’m losing, and I lean into it now.
He slides his hand across my back, his touch firm and grounding. After a moment, his fingers find my shoulders. He leans back slightly, cupping my face, his thumbs gently moving over my cheeks as he studies me.
"Are you hurt? I should have known better than to leave you. Bash kept calling—he made a breakthrough with Avidian. I should have made him come here instead,” he says as he shrugs off his coat. Draping it over my shoulders, he tucks the edges close around me like a blanket. The fabric is warm and smells faintly of him, a scent that makes me want to bury myself in it.
I shake my head. “No, I’m fine. Really. What did Bash have to show you?” I ask, pulling the coat tighter, letting the familiar weight of it settle me.
"He’s been working on a way to control the inhalation better. He’s created a mask with a button you can press to release just the right amount, so it lasts longer. It’s still in the early stages, but I’ll show it to you later. For now, let’s get you inside before you freeze."
I nod. “We should check on Irina.”
He searches my face then steps aside, one hand lingering on my arm as we head to the dining room. Irina sits at the table, the flickering candlelight casting shadows over her features. She clutches her wine glass, her fingers tightening and releasingas though trying to steady herself. Her eyes flick between us, softening slightly when they meet mine.
“I haven’t seen Orin in a long time,” she says, setting the glass down. Her hand hovers near the stem for a moment before she folds her fingers in her lap. “Dare I say he’s gotten worse.”
Malachi pulls out a chair, sitting down across from her. He runs a hand over the back of his neck, the tension in his posture betraying his frustration. “Orin’s always been the same. You’ve been lucky to avoid him until now.”
Irina lets out a sharp breath, leaning back in her chair. “Lucky,” she mutters, shaking her head. She turns to me, her expression softening. “Are you sure you’re alright, Katja? He can be...”
I sit straighter, adjusting Malachi’s coat as if it could shield me from the memory of Orin’s presence. “I’m fine. Thank you though. I’m sorry he showed up here. You didn’t deserve that.”
Irina waves, brushing the apology away, though her fingers tremble slightly as she picks up her glass again. “It’s not your fault. Orin has a knack for making himself unwelcome.”
Malachi leans forward, his elbows braced on the table. His jaw tightens, his knuckles brushing the wood as he speaks. “He won’t be back anytime soon. I made that clear.”
Irina tilts her head but doesn’t press for details. Instead, she looks to the hallway as though expecting to see Orin’s shadow creeping back through the door.
“Good,” she says after a pause. Her hands curl around the glass, steady now. “The less I see of him, the better. You two should rest. You both look exhausted.”
I think it’s more of an excuse because she wants to be alone, and I respect that.
Malachi nods, and we both stand to leave, but something pulls me back. I glance over my shoulder at Irina, her face paleand drawn. “Jamie said he’s sorry,” I tell her. “He said he regrets his actions and that all is well, now and forever.”
She inhales sharply, her hand trembling as it covers her mouth. Her eyes glisten, and she blinks rapidly, as if trying to keep herself from unraveling. Not wanting to intrude any further, I turn away, letting her have the moment to herself. Malachi doesn’t say a word as he gently guides me toward the door.
The chill outside hits hard, and I shiver despite the thick coat draped around me. Malachi takes one look at my bare legs and shakes his head, muttering under his breath as he lifts me effortlessly into his arms.
Once inside, he sets me down gently and moves to the fireplace, kneeling to build a fire. I kick off my boots and shed the coat, watching him work as the familiar crackle of flames fills the space.
