Part 4 (1/2)

The air changed again. Like something was pus.h.i.+ng at Malachi. But whatever it was had no affect on Malachi. He felt like he was simply walking through ankle-deep water. Chilled, but nothing else.

Malachi c.o.c.ked a brow and smiled. ”Was that supposed to do something?”

A look crossed the man's face, a look of sheer, utter disbelief. His jaw dropped and for a moment, he just gaped at Malachi.

Malachi lazily scratched at his chest as he murmured, ”Well, I guess it was. Am I supposed to cringe in terror? I am no beaten, broken woman.”

”Perhaps not woman, but beaten and broken, that you will be soon enough,” the man rasped and he lunged for Malachi.

Logically, Malachi realized the man was moving with a speed that was uncanny. But his eyes followed the man with ease and he dodged to the side and came up behind his opponent, locking an arm around the man's thick neck and squeezing. It had little effect-his struggles did not slow from lack of air and that was indeed rather odd.

However, the man could not break away either. It was clear he had no clue about fighting. He could not even manage to break Malachi's grip. Malachi reached for the knife he had seen at the man's waist and he jerked it free.

Then he shoved the man away and braced himself as the man spun around and lunged for Malachi. He hooked a foot in between his opponent's ankles and tripped him. As the man went down, Malachi pounced on him, using his knees to pin the man's arms down.

Pressing the knife to the man's throat, Malachi whispered, ”Beaten, am I?”

”You cannot kill me-I am no mortal man,” he rasped.

”No?” Malachi asked curiously. He jerked the knife a little, watching as blood welled and began to flow. ”You bleed. A man bleeds, he can die.”

Eyes half wild with fear and fury, the man spat, ”That puny knife cannot kill me. Already it heals.”

Much to Malachi's displeasure, he could see the truth of those words. Even though it was full dark, he was able to see that the tiny flesh wound was already knitting together, until all that remained was a bead of blood that still gleamed wet.

”And if I use this knife to hack your head from your shoulders?” Malachi asked casually.

The man's dark eyes flashed. Indeed, they actually glowed and the air grew ripe with the stink of fear.

”So you cannot heal that wound, eh? What else?” he mused, pus.h.i.+ng back a little and tossing the knife up and down.

”Wood through his heart.”

Alys' voice was quiet and Malachi narrowed his eyes as he looked up to find her standing just a few feet away, one slim hand resting against a tree trunk.

”b.i.t.c.h!” the man howled, struggling with renewed strength.

Malachi reached down and slammed the man's head into the ground with all his strength.

”Wood will kill him,” she said softly, and then she swayed.

”You will be silent,” the man rasped.

But Alys laughed. ”Jacob, I do believe you are too terrified to control me,” she said. Her eyes glinted hard and bright and she smiled, a feral looking grin that seemed out of place on her gentle face.

”What else will kill him?” Malachi asked, caressing the wooden hilt of the knife and smiling coldly down at Jacob.

”Fire. Sunlight. Weapons of silver. Or you could hack his head from his body. Perhaps that would be a little messy.” She pursed her lips, considering.

Without even glancing at the sky Malachi said, ”Sunrise is too far away. And I would guess it is just as deadly to us. I do not fancy having to wash his stinking blood away, so we will leave his head where it is.”

”Let me go!” Jacob demanded and that pus.h.i.+ng came once more, harder, more forceful.

”No.” With that simple reply, Malachi reversed the knife in his grip, closing his hand around the blade with little care that it would slice his flesh. Lifting his hand high, he brought the worn, rounded hilt of the knife down. Bone cracked. Under the force of the blow, flesh broke and Malachi buried the knife's hilt inside Jacob's chest.

He waited until he saw the light of life fade from Jacob's eyes before he dared to look away. ”Is he dead?”

But Alys could not answer. She was too busy sobbing.

Chapter Four

The dream...

In his sleep, while the sun burned overhead, Malachi groaned. She was there. The dream woman. Many seasons had pa.s.sed since she had last come to him, but this day, she had come.

When he had collapsed down onto the piled furs next to Alys, she had already been sleeping.

The sun's rising came hard on her and she could not remain awake as the sun began to brighten the eastern sky. Malachi could stay awake far longer and had been out hunting, stockpiling more furs for the coming winter.

After so many seasons in this land, he knew how harsh and brutal the winters were. Malachi would be prepared. While the cold would not kill him or Alys, it was b.l.o.o.d.y uncomfortable.

”Why do you come to me now?” he asked as his dream woman approached him from behind. He did not need to turn and see her to know it was her. He recognized the scent of her flesh, warm and sweet, as she moved closer.

She trailed her fingers up his spine, resting a pale, slim hand on his shoulder.

I feel a change.

With a snort, Malachi muttered, ”That figures.” In all the years since Alys had Changed him, his dream woman had never truly deserted him, but she stayed away for long, long periods at a time.

Malachi would almost have believed she was jealous of Alys.

There was little question to him, though. If she came to him, he would leave Alys. He would find her a protector and he would leave, spend his life with this woman who had haunted him for years and years.

It was empty knowledge, though-he knew she would never come.

And he could not see him walking away from Alys, this sweet woman who needed him, just so he could be alone when he dreamed of her.

Alys was real-she was flesh and blood. She needed him.

His dream lover was just that...a lover only in his dreams. He could not leave Alys for that.