Bound to Earth

Bonus Chapter | Malachi

The back of Malachi's head slammed against the plane's tiny bathroom door as he slid to the ground.

He'd never felt pain like this in the last 370 years he'd been alive. Not when he remembered the men on a rampage in his village. Not as they had raped his mother and left her there to die. Not as he saw his little sister's body sprawled on the floor of the kitchen, blood pooled beneath her, chest unmoving.

Malachi hadn't known where exactly his father was at the time—somewhere in the village working—or his older brother, who'd been helping his father since he'd reached maturity. 

Malachi hoped they'd find him, save him as the men had hauled him out of his house. 

He saw brief glimpses of their bodies lying in the streets. 

He was shoved on a boat overpacked with people from his village and other nearby villages hours later. They'd made him walk barefoot to the coast.

The worst part was when they'd stripped him bare, months' worth of shit and piss still clinging to him, and shoved him on a wooden pedestal. He hadn't known the language at the time, hadn't known what was happening.

Until the first person raised their hand and yelled. Then another, and another. It wasn't until the yelling stopped and someone handed money over, taking Malachi instead, he knew. He knew his life was no longer his own, but he didn't know why.

It'd only gotten worse from there.

Malachi couldn't bring himself to tell Token those memories. He settled for not remembering it all too clearly when he, in fact, remembered it all too clearly. His stomach churned more than it already had.

But this, this emptiness he felt, the guilt and self-loathing. It was far worse than any of his past.

Even as a slave, he'd known there was nothing he could've done to stop it. It wasn't his fault an entire continent of assholes decided he was worth less because of his skin color. He'd made it a point to prove them wrong, free himself, get an education, change society, and to become better than they were.

And he had.

That wasn't what had happened here. He worked so hard to become powerful and strong, only for none of it to matter when the time came. He could do nothing to help his mate.

If only he'd just paid more attention, taken another second to survey what was around them. Looking back, he wasn't sure what he was thinking.

He wasn't thinking. He couldn't think, not when Token's body was pressed against his, her erect nipples brushing against his bare chest in the hot tub. It'd taken all his self control to keep himself from bending her over the side and fucking her until she begged him to stop.

Malachi let out a shaky breath, his stomach still rolling. It was those thoughts which had cost him his mate. 

He hadn't minded it. Actually he quite enjoyed his time with her, loved it. He wanted so many more moments like those, and new moments too.

But then wasn't the time or place. He knew they were to be extra careful. A second Wendigo sighting so soon after another wasn't natural. He should've known there was another source to the madness. There always was.

Instead, he'd let himself blindly fall into a cult of witches' trap. He let himself be shackled once more when they'd shown him his brothers. He didn't have a choice, and hated it. They were prepared to kill each one of them if something went wrong.

He had hated how they used him as a hostage even more, shackled and brought out when they wanted his brothers to behave. He'd made sure to take out a decent chunk of one of the witches with his teeth.