Page 95 of Malachi
“Not in the slightest,” he laughed humorlessly. “He was enraged. He told me I needed to spend time in prayer, and in apology for having my own plans for my future, instead of focusing on a plan God had for me. You see, the Reverend has it in his head that he talks to God. It’s all a crock of shit, of course.”
“Of course.” I rolled my eyes.
“He knows he doesn’t talk to God,” Malachi all but spat.
“Then why was he so angry?”
“Because I threatened his position.” Understanding dawned on me. I stopped looking at the Reverend like a leader of faith, and more to the fact of what he was: an egomaniacal psychopath. Power hungry. And Malachi had threatened that power.
“Oh, no,” I whispered.
“Exactly. I got an ass reaming. When I left, I thought that would be it. It had devastated me. But what awaited me when I got home was far worse than that.” The words came through gritted teeth, as though they had to be forced out of his mouth.
“What do you mean?”
“He had told father of our meeting. Sometime during my walk home, he called my father and filled him in. By the time I arrived on my doorstep, father was waiting for me, belt in hand. Of course, the belt wasn’t enough for Father. He was furious. The belt quickly gave way to the switch. I got more lashings that day than I had in my entire life combined. My back bled for days afterwards.” My heart broke for him, shattering to pieces as he told this incredibly private, painful tale of his youth.
“Oh Malachi,” I nearly sobbed. Not for the man that sat before me, but for the young man, barely more than a child, that he described.
“It was the worst day of my life, and everything went downhill from there,” he finished with a heavily burdened sigh. “Until you, that is.”
His words shocked me into silence. His head lifted, finding my gaze as we locked eyes.
“What feelings do you have for me, Eden? Tell me. Please.”
It was the please that did it, that tiny plea so filled with emotion. I couldn’t hold back my truth any longer.
“Before I tell you, I need you to hear me out. I have grown to know you, Malachi. Even though I’m learning more each and every day.”
“How do you feel about me, Eden?” he reiterated.
“I have fallen in love with you, Malachi.” I could see it on his face. He didn’t believe me. “With your strength and your power. But also with your caring and your fierce, protective nature.”
“I’m a beast, Eden. No one can love a beast,” he scoffed.
“No. You aremyBeast,” I corrected him, a slight growl sounding in my voice, surprising both of us. His eyes shot to mine, and I didn’t back down. Not in the slightest. I loved him and I would be damned if he shrugged such a truth away like it was nothing.
“Your Beast,” he repeated quietly.
“Yes, My Beast, and don’t you forget it. I have fallen in love with you, body and soul. When this is all over, I want a life with you. Forever.”
“Your Beast,” he repeated a third time.
“Yes, my Beast,” I repeated with a sigh.
“You love me?” he questioned, his eyes never straying for mine, not for a single moment.
“Yes. I do,” I repeated. “I know that it’s too much to ask that you have any real kind of feeling for me, and I’ve accepted that. But if you could possibly see a life with me, one that —”
“I love you,” he murmured so softly I almost didn’t hear him.
“What?”
“I love you, Eden,” he repeated. We sat there, our eyes locked, while the truth we had both spoken settled over us like a blanket. After a long moment, he stood, stalking over to me and pulling me up into his arms without a word. I thought he would kiss me, that he would take me into his arms and kiss me until I couldn’t remember my name.
But he didn’t.
He simply wrapped me up in his arms, lifting me until I wrapped my legs around his waist, his powerful arms like two steel bands around my back. He cupped the back of my head, holding me to him as he breathed in deep, shaky breaths. I buried my face in his shoulder, my smile hidden against the rough material of his shirt. He still wore the suspenders from earlier, the material rubbing against my cheek as my arms wrapped around his neck, my hands threading through the soft curls of his hair.
