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Chapter 9

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Mal watched Alina shoot out from the hallway into the room in front of him and freeze. It took him a second to respond, but when he did he shook his head. "Go back to bed, Alina," he ordered, pointing at the hall she'd come from.

Alina took a deep breath. "No."

"I'm not coming back there tonight," Mal said, shaking his head for emphasis. "I'm sorry; I shouldn't have—"

"I'm not out here for an apology," Alina interrupted, looking at him evenly.

Mal narrowed his eyes, understanding why she'd followed him. "Go back… to bed, Alina," he said slowly, his voice deep.

"No," she said, advancing on him. Mal's jaw clenched, and he shifted against the wall, unable to back away from her as Alina came to a stop in front of him.

"You're going to be miserable tomorrow if you don't get any sleep," he said, stubbornly refusing to address the situation.

Alina knelt in front of Mal, bringing herself down to his level on the ground. She crawled forward, straddling his outstretched legs and settling herself down onto his lap.

Mal closed his eyes, his brow creased. Alina pulled his face toward hers, but he rolled his head to the side and grabbed at her wrists to pull her hands from his neck. He pushed her back from his lap and scrambled to his feet. "I can't... I can't think straight," he said, pacing the length of the room and shaking his head. After a beat he turned back to Alina, his eyes wide and imploring. "I need to make the right decisions here, because your path is an important one—it's the only thing that matters here, Alina, and I can't afford distractions if we're..."

"Screw 'distractions'," Alina said, raising her chin defiantly as she stood. She glanced around the room before pinning Mal again with her gaze. "You refuse to come back to the bed. I think we're fairly resourceful people. We can work with what we've got out here."

Alina watched as resolve finally settled on Mal's face in the soft light. He strode quickly over to her, catching her around the waist and driving her harshly back against the stone wall. Alina took up handfuls of his shirt, intent on keeping him within arms reach. He buried his face in her neck, and she tilted her head back to grant him better access. She was expecting a kiss, his tongue on her skin... But instead he just seemed to breathe her in for a moment; the tip of his nose trailed from her clavicle up to her jaw, his rough, open-mouthed breaths hot on her neck.

Mal's palms flattened on the wall next to Alina, and he ran his hands up the stones until he was resting his weight on his elbows, one on either side of her. His forearms framed Alina's head, caging her in place. He leaned against her, his body holding hers still with a welcome and consistent pressure.

"It's like you're a loaded pistol in my mouth... and I like the taste of metal..." Mal ground out, as if the very words he spoke were trying to strangle him.

Alina tilted her head back down and tried to catch his eye. "Mal, I'm not going to hurt y—"

"Have you ever played roulette, Alina?" he interrupted, dropping his eyes to her mouth.

"No," she said, her breath speeding up as his hands left the wall and crept up, cold, beneath the hem of her tunic. "Have you?" she asked.

Mal held her gaze and nodded. He trailed his fingers over her hips.

"With a bullet... in a gun?" she clarified, suddenly finding it hard to continue her questions. She drew in a shaky breath.

Again, he nodded, his hands immobile at her waist.

"So you're familiar...with this moment..." Alina managed. She let go of Mal's shirt and reached down to grip his wrists. She applied a gentle pressure downwards, encouraging him to slide his fingers down farther, but he tensed, not allowing his hands to be moved. Alina frowned, her eyebrows knitting together in frustration. "Why won't you just pull the trigger?" she whispered.

"In my previous experience with this game...there was only one terrifying outcome," he explained, his voice tight. Alina moved slowly sideways, pulling Mal with her toward the hallway. "Either I would die, or my opponent would."

Alina eased off the wall and into the hallway, the light following them dutifully as she backed them toward the bedroom. "No one's going to die tonight based on our actions here, Mal," she said softly.

"No," Mal agreed, stilling their progress before they stepped through the doorway into the bedroom. "But it's daunting, thinking about the potential mess I'd have on my hands if I pull this particular trigger and the bullet fires." Mal clenched his jaw, and pressed his forehead to Alina's. "But that's nothing compared to my fear of the five-to-one odds: I don't know what I'd do if I finally managed enough courage to squeeze this trigger, only to hear nothing more than the hollow click of an empty chamber... And then I have to, what? Pass the gun on to someone else?" He shook his head against hers, wincing. He swallowed and shifted his weight, his voice quieting. "Easier not to play this game."

"You can't win if you refuse to play in the first place," Alina pointed out.

Mal's expression changed, hardening from his previous look of resignation to one of irritation. "I don't think you understand, Alina. There is no 'winning' for me. Every time I considered this—" He gestured between them. "—and I have considered it—painfully often... Every time, the idea that you might back away, that you might not feel the way that I do..." Mal lifted his head and stared distractedly into the darkness to his left as if it could supply more suitable words with which to explain himself. "I don't think I could— I think I'd— How could any man—"

Alina remained quiet and still, concentrating on taking careful, measured breaths, while Mal wished fervently that she'd interrupt him, because he couldn't seem to stop giving her everything. She waited for him to go on.

Mal started again, trying to explain himself. "Tonight you seem... willing. For whatever reason—"

"Mal—"

"But even if I spent the night with you now, that's not a victory for me. I have you... for one night? Two if we don't make good time tomorrow, and if you continue to be... generous." His expression was pained, and he stared off over her shoulder again. "Would I be able to give you up once we get out of Ravka? That's..." Mal shook his head. "That would be so much harder."

"Who says you have to give me up?" Alina asked, confusion ghosting lightly across her face.

Mal gave her a helpless shrug. "I promised. I know what has to be done. I am not good for you in the long term, Alina. I'm not the hero in your story, as much as I want to be. I'm not one of the villains, but I just… I get you to where you need to be. Turns out I'm not even a main character. I have the ability to move you somewhere; spirit you away in the night and ensure no one finds you or threatens you on this part of your path." Mal set his jaw with resolve. "And when I'm done… that's where I walk away. That's where I let you go."

Alina let out a slow breath, her face contemplative. After a moment, she nodded as if she'd come to a conclusion. She lifted her arms, the bottom of the tunic gripped in both hands, and in one swift motion the garment was off, and she dropped it unceremoniously to the ground. She looked up at Mal, a challenge in her eyes.

Mal's face fell. "Alina," he begged, shaking his head. He stepped back, and Alina, expecting his retreat, followed him.

"Stop being an idiot," she reprimanded, standing before him in nothing but her soft light. "Stop keeping me in the dark when it comes to what you've been told to do and who told you to do it." A muscle jumped in Mal's jaw at her sharp tone. "And stop making excuses," Alina continued. "You want this. And you know what? I don't need a hero. I'm realizing the land of monsters and madmen might just be where I live." She raised an eyebrow. "Care to help me test my theory?" she asked, her voice low.

Mal licked his lips and nodded, unable to sustain his restraint a moment longer, "I can't imagine a world without you," he confessed. "You're the air I breathe."

Alina stepped up to him, laid her palms softly on either side of his jaw, and leaned in to whisper against his lips, "I've been lost without you."

Mal moved forward swiftly, pushing Alina back into the bedroom. He stooped briefly, hooking his hands around the back of her thighs and hitching her up to pin her against the wall next to the bed. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and her arms wound around his neck, bracing her weight on his shoulders. After a quick moment battling his simultaneous needs to divest himself of some clothing and also not drop the woman in his arms, Mal kissed her with hasty abandon and Alina let out a gasp as he pushed into her. She immediately found that she had little patience for being pinned against the wall, however, as she was unable to move, and after his initial thrust and desperate groan into her mouth—which felt like life itself being breathed into her—she struggled slightly against him. His lips left hers, concerned, and she quickly lowered her legs, pushing him away from her. The only thing that kept him from panicking was the fact that her hands never left him, and as she moved sideways again she dragged him with her. She sat on the edge of the bed and pulled him quickly toward her once more. Mal's hands gripped at her hips, and she caught at the blankets beneath her.

Mal wondered at the sounds he was able to elicit from her. But as he hitched one of her knees up higher against him and she clawed softly at the nape of his neck, he reveled in her cries and moans that seemed to spread out into the night around them, carrying in the chilled, thin air.

Arching her back and closing her eyes, Alina stretched herself out across the bed. As her hips rolled against his, her hand shot out to the side to brace herself against the headboard, as if she'd somehow lose her balance, laying on her back on the bed.

"No," growled Mal, gripping her waist so she looked up toward him again. "Open your eyes," he demanded.

Alina, panting, did as he asked. As he continued to thrust, though, her eyes slipped closed again, involuntarily.

Mal reached up and grabbed Alina's face with one hand this time, his fingers and thumb on either side of her chin. His grip wasn't hard enough to cause pain, but the pressure definitely got her attention. "Look at me," he said, and some of the force had left his voice, replaced by a plea.

He had to make sure she couldn't imagine he was anyone else.

Alina nodded despite her confusion; she was intent on providing whatever circumstances he needed tonight. She laced her fingers around the back of his head, not breaking eye contact.

The feel of her palms running over his scalp made him lean forward toward her, like a dog begging for more contact. She responded by pressing her forehead to his and scratching her nails lightly through his short hair.

Mal cringed, and his rhythm faltered. Kirigan's hair was much longer than his. Did she prefer—?

"Hey—" Alina urged, pulling his face away from hers and tilting it up so he could look her in the eye. "What's wrong? Where do you keep going?" she panted in frustration. "Because I swear, if you pull away from me again right now without finishing this, I'll kill you—"

Mal shook his head, his eyes tightly closed, resuming his motion. "Please, just..." he shook his head again.

"What do you want? Mal?" Alina leaned up to graze his ear with her teeth. "Just tell me what you need?" Alina whispered.

Mal's face twisted, and he hissed through his teeth before answering. "You—" he said, his voice strained. "I need you."

Neither one spoke for the next several minutes, moving against each other in the semi-darkness. Mal noted the fact that Alina had become silent, but hadn't stopped participating or responding to him. Every time he looked at her he found her eyes trained on his face, her mouth open, her breathing fast, and her cheeks flushed. When he eventually shifted and dropped his hand between them, her eyes finally closed again, and she cried out, arching up on the rough blankets and digging her fingers into his back.

Her blonde hair spread out around her head like a halo, and Mal's fingers clutched possessively at her hip, pulling her harder against him. Her hair may be lighter, but this new Alina was darker somehow, and in this moment she was entirely his.

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Mal's arms ached from bracing himself above her. He hadn't been able to bring himself to move, though, enjoying his vantage point. He continued to gaze down on Alina's face, her closed eyes, and her contented expression.

"It's... almost dawn..." Mal murmured, craning his head to look at the murky blue strains of light beginning to filter in between the boards on the window.

Alina nodded, accepting the information without opening her eyes to confirm for herself. She moved a relaxed hand to his chest, and he dropped his gaze to where her palm rested on him, still somewhat bewildered by the easy intimacy of the gesture, despite all that they had just done.

"Do we have an hour? We really should sleep. If only just for a few minutes..."

Alina rolled, pulling the blankets out from under her back. She climbed under, and Mal slid in behind her, curling against her back, and wrapping an arm tightly around her waist.

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TBC.

Additional Author's Note: I have a confession. Mal's line about having a loaded gun in his mouth but liking the taste of metal was stolen from a Robert Downey Jr. interview. He described the threat of a relapse into drug abuse that way, and it was such a vivid, sad idea... So I stole it. It seemed like a good analogy for the idea of unrequited love. Disclaimed and credit given! Not mine!