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I’m torn between the comfort of his presence and the fear of letting someone in again. What if this is just another trap? What if I’m setting myself up for more pain? But then I look into Malachi’s eyes, and I see something I haven’t seen in a long time—genuine concern.
“Thank you,” I whisper, not knowing what else to say, my voice a mixture of gratitude and lingering doubt.
He nods as if he’s accepting my gratitude without needing more. “How much longer do you think?” he asks, gesturing to the dryer.
I glance at the timer. “Another fifteen minutes or so.”
“Then I’ll wait,” he says, settling back against the wall, resting his hands behind his head and closing his eyes.
I sit down on the chair again, feeling a strange sense of relief. We sit in silence for a few minutes, the hum of the dryer the only sound between us. I steal glances at him, marveling at how someone so seemingly tough could be so gentle.
He isn’t overly built like most alphas, instead having a swimmer’s build. He’s not overly tall either, maybe six-foot, with an inch above or below. Since I’m only five-nothing, he’s still a giant compared to me. What strikes me is just how clear his skin is, and it almost has a glow to it. His skin is dark and rich, with a little goatee and a few patches of lighter skin here and there.
He pops one eye open, catching me staring.
I hold his gaze like the feral bitch I am.
He smiles, dimples and all. How dare he be so handsome?
“So,” he says, breaking the silence, “what do you do for fun, Aria?”
I chuckle softly, the sound almost foreign to me. “Fun? I’m not sure I remember what that is.”
No fucking way I’m telling him I have a small collection of those little amigurumi crochet animals.
He smiles, and it’s a beautiful thing. “Well, maybe we can change that.”
“Maybe,” I say, feeling a spark of something I haven’t felt in a long time—hope.
Malachi’s smile widens, and he leans back, his posture relaxed but somehow still commanding. “You know, as the leader of my pack, I don’t often get time for fun either. But when I do, I make it count.”
I raise an eyebrow, curiosity getting the better of me. “Pack leader, huh? That sounds like a lot of responsibility.”
He nods, a hint of pride in his eyes. “It is. But it’s also incredibly rewarding. The Clarke pack is my family, and I’d do anything for them.”
I file away this information, trying not to show how much it interests me. A pack leader. No wonder he exudes such confidence and authority.
Unfortunately, my anxiety dashes that as fast as possible. I remember a man with kind eyes and a soft smile—one I fell in love with, and one who hurt me more than words can even express. I promised myself I’d never fall into that trap again, and as handsome and kind as Malachi is, I’m still not going to break the promise I made to myself.
“Thank you for staying,” I say again as the buzzer goes off.
“Anytime, Aria,” he replies, his eyes locking onto mine. “Anytime.”
Clearing my throat, I begin to unload my clothing, just tossing them into the basket like the heathen I am.
“What are you doing?” He frowns, standing up.
“Emptying the dryer.” I blink at him, because what does it look like I’m doing?
“Aren’t you going to fold the laundry?”
“When I get to the apartment.” I’ve already been out far longer than I intended, and I’m about to get sweaty. Sweaty means I get stinky. I can’t get stinky in public.
“I’ve got it.” He comes around, unloads the dryer, then lifts it only to look at me expectantly. “Lead the way.”
Shit. Now I have to figure out how to get rid of an alpha in ten minutes.
8
