“The worst,” Malachi said solemnly, his heart soaring when she laughed.
He pressed kisses to her soft lips, over and over until she stopped crying, exhaling shakily into his mouth. Malachi held her, simply held her, while the rest of his world felt like it was falling apart, at the same time that something in his chest was fitting into place, a missing puzzle piece finally found.
“Joy,” he whispered after a few moments.
“Yes?” she replied sleepily.
That ache Malachi was beginning to grow familiar with burned sweetly behind his ribs. “Are you comfortable?”
“Yes.” She sighed, soft and sweet.
Malachi adjusted his position, hugging his arms around her. He waved a hand to get rid of any stains and fluids, then tucked the sheets, warm and clean, around them. He wished he could spend the rest of eternity sheltered like this in her warm embrace. When heturnedhis head to look down at her, he could see that her eyes were closed, and she was clearly seconds from falling asleep, though she was trying to fight it.
Lips twitching, feeling so fucking fond, Malachi whispered, “Joy.”
“Yes?”
His lips stretched wider, into a soft grin. “Go to sleep.”
She frowned, like she wanted to argue, but then she let out the tiniest little exhale.
And finally, for what Malachi assumed must’ve been the first time in a long time, Joy slept.
THIRTEEN
Malachi didn’t want to move. Joy was so deeply asleep she was snoring a little, drooling onto his chest. Panic made Malachi’s breaths come fast, though he forced his body to remain relaxed, not wanting todisturbher.
In a few hours, the sunwouldcome up. Malachi had to deal with the body before then; he couldn’t risk it staying any longer. The longer he left it off, the more it was likely to be discovered before he finished his end of the bargain.
And once he did … then what?
Could he leave Joy here, in his bed, in his house—could he come back to her? What if she noticed he was gone, put two and two together, and decided she didn’t want anything more?
Malachi wanted her. He wanted her like he’d never wanted anything in his life before.
He moved, something bright but painful tightening around his chest when Joy’s expression twisted with irritation at the disturbance.
“Sorry,” he murmured, his lips twitching. “Joy.”
She frowned, her lips forming a pout.
Malachi bit his lip. “Joy,” he repeated.
“What?” she complained.
Malachi had to swallow to wet his suddenly dry throat. “I’m—I’m leaving. I’m going to—to clean up the crime scene, so to speak.”
Joy stilled, processing his words. He heard her heartbeat go haywire,her scent as well. His arms tightened slightly around her, hope filling his chest like a slowly swelling balloon.
Then Joy turned away from him abruptly, her heart still skittering likea rabbit’sunderneath her ribs. “Yeah. Okay. You do that.”
Malachi didn’t move, his arms limp around her. His chest abruptly deflated. Should he ask? But how could he, when he didn’t knowwhatto ask? How to express what he wanted? He couldn’t just tell her he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her; humans seemedto needmore time to think about such things; it would send her running for the hills if he expressed how certain he was.
Too much, too soon.
But he had toat least try.
“Joy,” he began, his voice a low whisper.