Page 35 of Malachi
“Chickens,” I muttered, driving the UTV over back towards the house where the chicken coop was situated, past the garden. We pulled up, and she gasped.
“Oh, it’s just perfect! Look at it, Malachi! Just look!” she exclaimed.
“I see it,” I muttered derisively. “I fucking built it.”
“You built it?!” she looked at me with wide, surprised eyes.
“I built everything here,” I shrugged off.
“Are you kidding me?” she asked, astonished.
“Of course I did. It’s not that big of a deal.” Her praise was making me feel uncomfortable.
“Not a big deal?Not a big deal?!”she shrieked. “Are you kidding me? It’s ahugedeal!”
I squirmed under her praise and admiration. I wasn’t used to such platitudes, and I wanted her to knock it right the hell off. Pulling up to the coop and stopping the UTV, I jumped out, stalking my way over. The chickens noisily clucked and cackled. They were low on feed, which made sense. I had neglected them yesterday, and they were due for a feeding.
“Oh my goodness!” Eden nearly squealed behind me. I turned to see her hands clasped firmly under her chin, her eyes wide with wonder. “How many do you have?”
“Not that many, really. Enough, I suppose,” I grumbled, opening the small shed and grabbing the feed. I dumped a heap of it into the bucket, the chickens gathering at the fence, ready for their meal.
“The poor things are hungry,” she pouted, joining me.
“They are fine,” I muttered. “They have had bugs galore to eat all day after last night’s storm. Now, careful. They’ll try to swarm out.” I tossed a handful of feed over the side of the fence, opposite of the entrance.
“I get it. Distract them, so you can get in and feed them,” she noted as I opened the door and we both stepped inside.
“Exactly. Here, scatter some on the ground,” I instructed. I watched as she twirled and danced around, spreading the feed around the ground as the chickens pecked at her feet. She giggled lightly. She was such a cheerful person, full of joy and light. The polar opposite of me.
We both exited a few minutes later, shutting the door firmly behind us.
“What’s next?” she asked, her cheeks flushed from her dancing. Dancing in a chicken coop. The woman was strange. Strange and incredible.
“Now we get eggs,” I said with a smirk.
“But we just…” she trailed off, pointing at the door to the coop that we had just closed.
“Yes, this keeps the chickens busy while we come over here,” I directed, showing her the small doors on the side of the coop where we could gather eggs. “Here is where they lay their eggs.”
I showed her how to gather the eggs, placing them in a basket one by one as we moved from door to door. We ended up with two dozen eggs and we headed back quietly to the house.
“I am going to make you an incredible breakfast tomorrow with these,” she commented quietly, setting the eggs into the container on the counter. I thought I was in the clear, but as she finished, she asked the dreaded question. “Will you tell me more about being a Dominant?”
I froze, my back turned towards her as I cursed silently under my breath.
“I think that’s enough questions for today,” I pushed her off.
“It’s my first question, Malachi. You aren’t going to thwart me so easily,” she chastised. I turned to see her hands on her hips, one eyebrow raised in a mixture of annoyance and determination.
“Fine. What is it that you want to know?” I sighed heavily. I wasn’t looking forward to this. Not one bit. It completely fucked with my plan of keeping my walls up and holding her at bay.
“Well, you never really explained how you got into it all. Or how it fits in with life in Zion. If you ask me, it is in complete opposition to everything the Reverend teaches from the pulpit.” There was an air of judgment to her words, which had my hackles up a touch.
“Do you listen to everything the Reverend tells you to do?” My question was twofold. Half of it was meant to come off as sarcasm and teasing, the other half honest curiosity to how she felt about things here. Did she subscribe to everything that Zion preached, or was she a woman of her own mind? It wouldn’t surprise me if she was. Well, maybe it would a little, but I supposed there was a small part of me that hoped she wasn’t like the others; that she wasn’t a carbon copy of every other young Zion woman.
“If I did, why on Earth would I run out into the woods every other night to dance in the moonlight?” she laughed off.
“I suppose that’s true. So, is it difficult for you to believe that I mightalsowant things that others in Zion don’t?” I challenged her, mirroring her pose with my hands on my hips and eyebrow cocked up high.
