The Scribe

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t lie. We’re past that now. And I’d be lying if I pretended not to know how he feels about you.”

  “I’m not…” She struggled to put it into words. “I’m not used to expecting happiness, Rhys. I’d probably punch it if it looked me in the face. So really, I’m as much of an idiot as he is.”

  “His voice sounds different to you, doesn’t it?”

  She blinked. “How did you know that?”

  He seemed to draw away. “I didn’t. Just a guess.”

  “What does that mean?”

  A slow smile crept across his face. “I don’t think I’m going to tell you. It’ll be too fun to watch you find out on your own.”

  Pounding steps approached in the night. Malachi appeared out of the black, shirtless and dripping despite the cool evening air. His talesm seemed to glow when he caught sight of her, a low silver light in the darkness. He said nothing, shooting Rhys a glare as he walked past them and into the house.

  “Has he kissed you?” Rhys asked when Malachi was gone.

  “Yes. On the island.”

  “Was it more than fine?”

  Her breath left her body in a rush of memories. “So much more than fine.”

  He nudged her shoulder with his own. “Then don’t be stubborn. Go.”

  Fifteen minutes and another glass of wine later, Ava knocked on his door. Malachi opened it, holding a towel. He’d showered, and a few drops of water still clung to his tanned shoulders. He wore a pair of loose pants and a guarded expression.

  “What do you want?”

  “I kissed Rhys.”

  Now she knew she wasn’t imagining it. The tattoos pulsed silver in the dim light of the hall. Ava forced her eyes back to Malachi’s face, which was locked down tight. Only a tic in his jaw told Ava her words had even been heard.

  His voice was low and thick with tension. “Get that out of your system?”

  “Felt a little like kissing my brother.”

  He dropped the towel and tugged her into the room. “This won’t.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  With one hand, he pulled her into the room, and with the other, Malachi slammed the door shut. He tugged her into his chest and captured her lips with his own. Desire roared through his body, thick with tension after two hundred years of fasting and a lifetime of waiting. For her. For Ava.

  Reshon.

  Malachi knew as he held her. He could feel the power pulsing through his talesm, the bare skin over his heart aching to be marked by Ava’s magic. He could feel it singing over her skin, her touch igniting the fierce passion he’d buried for so long.

  Backing Ava against the door, he curled his body over hers, bracing his arms on either side of her head, forcing her to look into his eyes.

  “Do you want this? Say so now.” He dangled on the edge of forever. All he needed was a word.

  He saw the edges of doubt cloud her eyes, but behind it was a desperate hunger that mirrored his own. He pressed closer.

  “Do you want me, Ava?”

  Malachi saw her mouth form the word before he heard it. “Yes.”

  His control snapped.

  Reaching down, he gripped her hips, lifting her against his chest as Ava wrapped her legs around his waist. A fierce possessiveness overtook him as Malachi pressed her against the wall and ravaged her mouth. He held her with one arm while the other tugged at the back of her hair, baring her neck to his kisses. He inhaled the heat of her skin as he trailed his tongue up the line of her throat, pausing to press a gentle kiss at her neck where he could feel her voice hum.

  “More,” she whispered.

  “Yes.”

  “I need… Malachi—”

  “I know.” Groaning with desire, he swung her around and walked across the room. “Bed.”

  It was small, barely fitting his own tall frame, but it would have to do. He’d find more fitting accommodations later, but for now Ava was tearing at her clothes as he carried her, as desperate for contact as he was. He could feel the heat of her arms branding him. Feel the draw of energy as if touching a live wire. He lay her down and slid next to her, suddenly aware of the manic energy that hummed underneath her skin. It took everything in him to cage his own desire and think of her.

  “Ava.” He took a deep breath and pressed a hand over her heart, halting the fingers that were fumbling with the buttons. “Ava, wait.”

  She stopped, eyes narrowing. “You better not be backing out of this. If you’ve got some noble idea about being cautious or taking things slow—”

  “Be quiet and let me undress you, woman.” His low growl shocked Ava out of her anger. “I’ve been thinking about this for over two hundred years.”

  Brushing her hands away, he slipped open the first button, and Ava watched with wide eyes as he bent down and kissed the newly bare skin. A single finger trailed from her neck down, leaving a faint gold trail in its wake. Malachi traced a calming spell over her skin and felt her pulse stop racing. The urgency was still there, but as the magic took hold, the frantic energy was drawn into his own body, feeding his passion as he slowly stoked hers.

  “Beautiful,” he whispered, slipping another button open. His lips tasted again as he trailed another charm between her breasts. His tongue followed the gold letters that bloomed there, and Ava’s back arched in silent pleasure.

  “Malachi…”

  “Tell me what you’re feeling,” he whispered. “I want to hear.”

  “Hot.”

  “Yes?” He flicked open another button, spreading her shirt and flicking open the lace that bound her breasts.

  “Aches… Keep touching me. Don’t stop.”

  “Never.” Her skin bared to his eyes, Malachi stopped for a moment to stare. With a groan, he closed his mouth over one sensitive peak as Ava clutched the hair on the back of his head. He closed his eyes and lost himself in the taste of her. The salty bite of her skin and the lingering scent she wore intoxicated him. He would never get enough.

  “Too much!” she finally gasped. “It’s too much.”

  “Shhh.” He soothed her, laying his forehead in the smooth valley between her breasts. He forced his mouth away from her skin as his fingers made quick work of the rest of her shirt. Slipping it off, he took a moment to gaze at the beauty spread before him.

  Ava’s skin still glowed with the traces of magic he’d written over her heart. A small bruise was forming on the rise of her left breast where his mouth had taken her skin. Malachi forced back the urge to mark her. There would be time. For her, he had eternity.

  Shaking his head in wonder, he said, “For you? It is never too much.”

  “Faster,” she urged.

  “No.” He bent his head again, fighting back his own desire to take and claim and spend himself in the cradle of her body. He loosened the button of her jeans before he slid them down over her legs. Each newly revealed limb received the attention of his lips. His fingers. Magic flowed between them. He could feel her energy and smiled, knowing one day she would mark him too.

  “When you find your power,” he murmured in her ear as he stretched out beside her on the narrow bed, “you will sing to me. And I will feel your magic as you feel mine.”

  “Is that what I’m feeling?” she said with a smile, throwing one leg over his thigh and pulling him closer. “That’s a lot of magic.”

  He grinned, pleased by the laughter in her eyes.

  “Ava,” he whispered again. “Reshon.”

  Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I can hear you. Inside. All I hear is you.”

  He stilled his hands. “And what do I sound like?”

  “Perfect,” she choked out. “You sound… perfect.”

  He saw the tears forming, so he came to her, knowing there was no pleasure she could ask for that he would not give. He ran a hand from the nape of her neck, down her spine, picturing the spells he would mark her with. Spells to strengthen her. Claim her. Mark her as
his mate as she would mark him as hers.

  “What do you want?” he asked.

  “You.”

  Now it was his breath that was coming faster as she reached down and took him in her hand. His head fell back and Malachi felt Ava press kisses along the line of his jaw as she worked his pants down over his hips. Then her lips trailed over the markings on his collarbone. His shoulder. Her delicate teeth closed over his nipple for a moment before she continued across his chest. He was on the edge of losing control.

  “Ava, stop.” His head swam with the rush of sensation.

  “Really?”

  “Uh… no, not really.”

  He was light-headed with desire. Intoxicated by her touch. She might not have been able to use Irina magic, but Ava had a power all her own. Her energy was mounting again, feeding him, stoking the fire that built between them. They were face-to-face, staring into each other’s eyes while Malachi’s fingers moved over her skin.

  “So warm.” He buried his face in her neck and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, holding him there. “I need you.”

  “Then take me,” she whispered. “And don’t let go.”

  He lifted her thigh and drew her forward, sliding into her body with aching slowness as he drank in the sensations. Heat. Pleasure. His instincts roused, and he groaned into her mouth as they rocked together. Skin against skin. Lips melded together. Push. Pull. He felt the blood rushing in his veins. Felt their breath mingle as their pleasure built. And when he felt Ava begin to fall over the edge, he followed.

  He would follow her anywhere.

  “What does ‘jah-num’ mean?”

  “Hmm?” He was drowsy after the third time he’d taken her. Sex energized Irin men, but eventually, even the strongest man tired. Ava was like a loose rag draped across his chest. She had tried to move away when she started to fall asleep, but he wouldn’t allow it, pulling her closer, still needing the contact.

  “You say it sometimes. When we’re together. ‘Jah—’”

  “Oh, canım. It means… my darling.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “My life.” More kisses along her cheek, ignoring the slight tension his words evoked. He didn’t hold back. “It means ‘my soul.’” The shell of her ear. Loose lazy brushes of his lips that soothed her and fed his need. He had forgotten what it meant to be held.

  “Canım.” She tried the word out, whispering as her fingers traced over the talesm on his chest. She circled down to the blank area on the skin over his heart. “There’s nothing here.”

  “I’ve never taken a mate.”

  “Never?” A slow smile curved her lips. “You don’t make love like a virgin, Malachi.”

  He could feel the quiet laugh from her, and he reached down, pinching her thigh before his hand spread to soothe the sting.

  “There was an Irina… before the Rending, there was someone. We were planning on a union. Our families liked each other. We liked each other very much. We were very compatible. And yes, we had been together. But she broke it off.”

  “What?” She picked her head up and frowned. “Don’t tell me you weren’t good enough for her. That’s ridiculous.”

  He shook his head, smiling at her annoyance that another had found him lacking. It made him want to crow with pride. “No. She found her reshon. Her true mate.”

  “Reshon?”

  He nodded slowly, sliding his hands down to lie along her waist. Ava was extraordinary. He could already feel her energy mounting—even away from humans in the isolation of the scribe house, she shone.

  “It doesn’t always happen, but it’s something we all hope for. She found her reshon, so I let her go. It would have been foolish to continue courting her when her heart had already left.”

  “That cheating—”

  He covered her mouth with his own. When he drew back, her eyes were blinking with languor again, and the irritation had fled. “It wasn’t like that. It hurt her to break off our relationship, because she did care for me. But I did not fight it, even though it pained me, too. A reshon is a blessing. Your destiny in another person. The perfect complement to yourself. Not everyone finds a reshon, but those who do are considered doubly blessed. And very, very powerful.”

  “Why?” Her gaze fell to his chest again, and Malachi wondered what she would ask him to create there. The mating mark was dictated by the Irina, a visible expression of her mate’s dedication and love. She traced the smooth bare skin and said, “Why more powerful?”

  “Imagine…” He drew her up so they were face-to-face on the narrow bed. “Imagine a person created for you. Another being so in tune with you that their voice is the clearest you’ve ever heard in your mind.” He saw her eyes widen, so he looked away and trailed a finger over her shoulder. “Her touch sharpens your senses. Her lips…” He pressed a light kiss to her open mouth. “…feed your soul. A bond like that strengthens both. One magic feeds the other. Within it, Irin and Irina become who we are meant to be.”

  Malachi could feel Ava’s hands tighten on his shoulders. Knew she was quietly absorbing the words he’d said. He didn’t want to push her. He knew she was his reshon. Looking back, it had been evident from their first kiss. But he was heeding his watcher’s advice in another way. He could give her time. He would let Ava come to the knowledge herself. Patience. He would seduce her body and mind until her soul compelled her to accept him. It would be his most pleasurable hunt ever.

  “What are you smiling about?” Ava teased him, snuggling into his chest. “You look like the cat who ate the cream.”

  His laugh was low and satisfied. “I’m quite sure that I did. More than once.”

  Malachi laughed again when she elbowed his side, then he pulled her close and said, “Sleep, Ava. Rest with me.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this exhausted.”

  “Sleep,” he whispered. “I will see you in your dreams.”

  When he dreamed, it was of her. A shadow he chased through a dark wood. She eluded him for a time, but eventually a faint outline walked to him out of a fog. He could not see her face, but when her lips touched his, he knew her. And she was his.

  He blinked awake. Ava was still sleeping next to him, boneless in her exhaustion. Malachi slipped out of the narrow bed, wishing he had someplace more private to take her. The newly awakened magic did not want to share its mate. And though his room in the scribe house was one of the most isolated, it still lacked the privacy he craved.

  He threw on some clothes and left the room, needing some water. Ava, too, would be hungry when she woke. Her metabolism, which was typically fast, would probably wake her with hunger before long. Though expending energy during sex was one of the most effective ways to calm her, it was also draining. They couldn’t stay in his room forever.

  Not that the idea wasn’t appealing.

  He ran into Rhys halfway to the kitchens. The other man backed away for a moment, then seeing Malachi’s expression, relaxed.

  “I was wondering whether you were going to hit me or not,” he said. “But you’ve obviously found another way of marking your territory.”

  Malachi grunted and crossed his arms. “If she’d been more complimentary about you, I’d be more offended.”

  “I’m letting that pass since you’re in a postcoital haze.”

  “Ava is my reshon.”

  Rhys was speechless for a few moments, instinctive rebellion evident in his eyes. But finally he said, “Of course she is. I probably knew that before you did, you idiot. Does she know what it means?”

  “Not completely. She’s smart. She’ll figure it out.”

  Rhys fell silent again. “She’s not had an easy time of things, brother. Her relationships, from what I can tell, have been… difficult. She may fight it.”

  Malachi’s lips curled. “She won’t win.”

  “If you expect me to bet against fate, you’re wrong.” A shadow of sorrow passed over Rhys’s face. Then the expression cleared and his acerbic wit resurfaced. “Heaven, you’
re going to be more insufferable than Damien when Sari agrees to see him. I swear, you even look taller.”

  “I feel taller.”

  For the first time, Malachi understood why mated Irin were on the front lines in all battles and held the highest positions. Union with his mate had given him the kind of energy even magic couldn’t accomplish. He felt stronger. Sharper. The afterglow of Ava’s touch made him feel as if he could take on a hundred Grigori and win without a scratch.

  “Mated Irin,” Rhys muttered. “You’re an insufferable lot.” He started back in the direction of the library. “I’ll see you later. Next month, maybe.”

  “I want to take her away from here. The research, all the questions… It’s been tiring.”

  “Don’t make excuses,” Rhys called back. “You’re being selfish with the pretty girl.” A hint of wicked humor came back. “Besides, these beds… I can only imagine the frustration.”

  “Don’t imagine.” He glared. “Even though you’re right.”

  His friend laughed. “Take her to Kuşadası. No one is using the house there. It’s not fancy, but it’s private. You can blend in with the tourists. She might like the beach.”

  Malachi frowned, thinking of the crowded tourist port where the Irin kept a small safe house. “It’s too busy.”

  “Not as busy as Istanbul. And she’ll be with you. The voices will be more controllable for her now, but other senses will waken. It might be a good idea to ease her into things before you go back to Istanbul. Otherwise, it’ll affect both of you now.”

  “Maybe.” He finally conceded, “Yes, that is a good idea.”

  “I have lots of them. Now go find some food for the woman. She’s going to be starving.”

  With that, the scribe turned and left. Malachi watched him go, a spear of sorrow piercing through his own joy. He wanted his friend to find the same happiness. Wanted it for his people. They had lived in isolation for too long.