The Alpha's Daydream ✔️

Chapter 24

3476 words

"What do they mean?"

"Hmm?" Malachi opens a sleepy eye and looks up at me.

"Your tattoos. What's the meaning behind them?" I point my finger at his chest and stomach where black ink is traced in intricate designs. I want to lean closer to inspect them, but I am aware of the intimate position we are in. The morning sunshine edges the curtains in gold, casting a rosy glow over the bed where we both lie.

Malachi is shirtless, and the sight of his bare torso rippled with muscles excites me in ways I don't want to think about just yet.
I want to be close, so much closer, and feel his skin and ink beneath my fingertips. But I don't think our relationship—whatever it is between us—is ready for that yet.

"They don't mean much," Malachi sits up and runs a hand through his tousled hair. I think he is trying to smooth it down, but it doesn't cause anything to that effect. Still, I marvel at the action, at the way his bicep flexes in such a tantalising way. I can't help but remember the time those strong arms of his were wrapped around me, cradling me close to his chest as heat seared my body.

"This one here," he motions to the large circular pattern that sits in the centre of his tattoos, a little to the right of his abdominal muscles. In the middle of the design is a pattern unlike the others. It is more intricate, more sharp. The ink itself seems stronger. "It's the first one I got, when I turned thirteen. It symbolises my passage from boyhood to something more mature, more respected. It's a tradition from my mother's pack. I loved it at the time, especially the way it was done in special ink. But..."

I nod my head. The tattoo is so black, without any trace of solid skin beneath. It feels like I am looking through a hole, a void, into the darkness inside.
"But now?" I look up and see the regret in his eyes.

"Now, it's lost its meaning. They don't view me as a leader, as a mature Alpha," he shakes his head, referring to his troublesome pack members.

I don't know the full significance of this concentric and circular symbol, but I don't believe his destiny and leadership should be so closely tied to a tattoo. The others should respect him regardless of the markings on his body. I don't say this, however, letting him continue.

"I got this a few years later," he refers to the creature that sits above the circular pattern. It has wings that are arched around the design as if guarding it with its teeth and claws. It looks somewhat familiar, stylised though it is. "The Great Winged Karelax."

"The Legend of the Mountains," I breathe quietly as I recognise the dragon-like creature of ancient myths.

"They were fierce, and very loyal."

"But they're all extinct," I loosen a sigh at the tragic fate of the majestic creatures.

"Sadly, yes. The legend concludes with the last surviving male sacrificing his life to save his mate and kit. But unfortunately, it was in vain as the last two were still hunted and killed. They were so misunderstood by everyone who saw them as beasts. Just monsters of the night."

A small part of my heart sings a harmonic chord, the feelings of being despised and mocked, cast out and made to feel unworthy are familiar to me. Why Malachi has the image of the fierce and courageous Karelax on his skin is not hard to imagine.

"And this?" A bit more ink lies beneath the inner patterns, disappearing below the band of his sweatpants.

"This is the plant Mysscelfolia."

I recognise the dark thick leaves that wrap around each other in a protective and fortress-like manner. "The enrichment plant." The structure of the leaves make it difficult to get to the rare bud. The plant blooms once a year, and only then if surrounded by the perfect temperature and weather conditions, deep in the valleys of the jungle.