The Scribe

Chapter Fourteen

Kuşadası was a busy port town home to cruise ships, tourists, and more cruise ships. Ava smiled as she and Malachi held hands, walking down the pedestrian walkway leading to the smaller marina where sailboats moored and nightclubs flourished. It could have been any number of port cities along the Mediterranean. Turkey. Greece. Spain. There was an odd kind of familiarity that was soothing, despite the crowds.

She squeezed his hand and smiled at the family with the sleepy toddler who was nodding off in his stroller. An older couple passed by, holding hands, the woman smiling at Ava after she’d glanced up at Malachi’s striking figure. The sun had set and the humid heat of the day had given way to a soothing breeze that wrapped around her, twisting her skirt around her ankles and lifting pieces of her hair. Malachi leaned down and captured one curl that brushed in her face, stopping to tuck it behind her ear and steal a kiss.

“Are you having fun?” he asked quietly. “Do you want to go back to the house for dinner? There’s food there. And you spent all day on the beach.”

“No,” she demurred. “I’m fine. The beach was nice.”

“Honestly?”

“Honestly.”

For the first time in her life, it was true. Malachi had been right, the days and nights of intimacy notwithstanding, a few days after their first frenzied coupling in the scribe house, she had started to hear the familiar voices again, whispering over her mind and filling her thoughts. Unlike before, she had someone to hold on to. Someone who understood.

Imagine a person created for you. Another being so in tune with you that their voice was the clearest you’ve ever heard in your mind.

Reshon, he’d called her. He thought she didn’t remember, but in the heat of passion, the word had escaped his lips. The thought was frightening and thrilling all at once. Malachi thought she was his reshon. Every shield she’d built over a lifetime of solitude rebelled at the thought. She didn’t want to be anyone’s perfect match. She had no idea what he wanted from her, and a small voice whispered it was simply too good to be true. Eventually, he would grow tired and leave her. Everyone did.

A quick squeeze of his hand made her look up. He was watching her with suspicious eyes.

“What?” There was no way he knew what she was thinking. It wasn’t as if he could read her thoughts.

“You’re worried about something,” he said. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” She started walking again, but he wouldn’t let her hand go.

“Me?” His silent thoughts were a swirl of confusion and concern. She hated hearing that from him. As big and tough as Malachi appeared, she knew there was a gentle part of him, and Ava suspected she was the only one allowed to see it. The thought of damaging that trust chilled her.

“I’m fine. I just—Whoa!” He picked her up and lifted her in his arms, smiling as the passing tourists laughed. Then he hopped over the rock wall and over to some deserted beach chairs near the lapping waves. He sat in one and positioned her so that her legs straddled his.

Reaching up to frame her face with both hands, he asked again, “What is it?”

“You’re being pushy.”

“This is new to me,” he said urgently. “I worry I no longer know how to care for a woman. It has been too long. I cannot care for you if you don’t tell me what is wrong, Ava.”

“Malachi…”

“You must be patient with me. And tell me what you’re thinking. You know my thoughts, but I do not know yours.” A small smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “You have me at a disadvantage.”

She couldn’t look away. His grey eyes bored into hers. His skin was illuminated by the full moon that rose over the black Aegean Sea and his dark hair lifted in the breeze.

“It’s too good,” she finally whispered.

An understanding look passed over his face, but he said, “What is too good?”

“I… This. Us. It’s too easy.”

“It should be difficult?”

“It always has been.”

He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “Other men are not me.”

“Because you’re Irin.”

“Because I am me.” He kissed her chin. “And you are you.” Another kiss at her temple as his hands began soothing strokes up and down her back. She could feel his fingers playing along the delicate skin over her spine. “There are others like us in the world, but they are not us. We decide who we want to be.”

“And you really want to be with me?” A thread of doubt worked its way into her voice, even though she willed it away.

A slow smile crossed his face. “Do you think me a martyr? That I do things I don’t want to do?”

“No. I can tell that already.” She had already seen his stubborn personality—it was apparent. It was hard to argue against it when iron control was so much of who he had to be. She could feel it under her fingers as she began to stroke his arms. Unbelievably powerful, Malachi had to show the strictest control among human beings. She saw it walking with him through the bazaar. At the shops. Among the more gentle scribes in Cappadocia.

She’d recognized it even when they first met so many weeks before in Istanbul. He was one of the most controlled men she’d ever met, his power on a very short leash. The fact that he loosed it when he held her, let his power wash over her in a gentle wave when they made love, caused her heart to soften dangerously toward him. It would be easy to put her heart in his hands. Easy to let him take care of her. But what would he take in return? Ava didn’t know if she was hanging on to enough of herself to share.

“Are you worried about the Grigori?”

Sensing an escape, she answered, “Yes. This seems like a place they’d hang out.”

He smiled. “Normally, yes. They love the tourist women. But I think so many of them were drawn to Istanbul when you were there, they may have left their usual hunting grounds. I haven’t seen a single one since we’ve been here.”

“And what would you do if you saw one here?”

“Kill it.”

The flat certainty in his voice chilled her. “But how… They’re like you. Not exactly, but didn’t you say—”

“The Grigori may have had similar origins, but they chose their path long ago. They are predators. We are protectors. Once, the Irin helped humanity. We shared our knowledge and secrets until it became too dangerous. When we were no longer wanted, we withdrew. The Grigori continued to feed. Now our job is to stop them from killing. It is the only way we can still serve the humans we were meant to guide and protect.”

Ava’s back stiffened. “You act like humans are inferior.”

“Not inferior. Different.”

“I’m human.”

He stifled a laugh. “No. You’re not.”

She stood up and glared at him. “My mother is Lena Matheson. A human woman. My father is Jasper Reed. A man. I am human. However this happened to me, I’m still human.”

Irritation colored his voice. “Ava—”

“Do you think I’m inferior?”

“Of course I don’t!”

“Then why—?”

“Why are you trying to start a fight?”

It brought her up short. What was she doing? She knew Malachi didn’t see her as an inferior. If anything, she felt like he put her on some frightening pedestal. He stood and brushed off his slacks, slowly straightening his clothes before he met her eyes. He was angry.

“Do you think I’m going to get tired of you? Walk away?”

He turned with a glare and started toward the pathway while Ava stood frozen in the sand, the ocean breeze unable to warm the chill that reached toward her heart as she watched him retreat. Just before he reached the stairs, he turned and held out a hand.

“You can piss me off and twist me around, Ava, but you’re not going to get rid of me.”

She started toward him, and when she got close enough, his hand curled around hers. She swallowed the lump in her throat as he carefully ushered her up the steps.

“I want to go back to the house,” she said as they reached the path along the main road. “I know you’re mad at me—”

“Good.”

They were silent on the long walk back, the cars and scooters honking as they darted across the main road. Ava had the distinct feeling that Malachi could have stopped them with a single glare if any got too close. They walked up the hill and toward the small, nondescript house they’d been sharing the past four days. It was nothing fancy, but at the end of a dead-end road, it was private and the beds were more comfortable than the ones in Cappadocia.

They didn’t make it to the bed.

As soon as Malachi shut the door, he spun her around, desire and anger lighting up his eyes. Before a word could leave her, he had captured her lips, pulling her to his chest as she grasped the nape of his neck, digging in her nails when she heard him groan.

“Not. Leaving. You,” he muttered between biting kisses, backing her toward a gathering of low couches and pillows in one corner.

“Okay.” She could barely keep up, overwhelmed by his fierce possession. She held on to his neck, her teeth nipping at the softer skin there as she tore at the buttons on his shirt until he lifted it and pulled it off with an irritated scowl, as if the fabric itself was offensive. He carefully took off the twin daggers strapped to his torso, then he glared at her own clothes and knelt to strip them off.

“Do you understand me?” He pulled off her skirt, her blouse, finally slowing when he reached the fevered flesh beneath. Malachi bent down to the low couch, kneeling before her and pressing his face to the soft skin of her abdomen, his arms wrapping around her hips. Her whole body shuddered in awareness of the power at her feet. “I will not abandon you. I will not leave you. Ever.”

She wanted to believe him. Wanted to be worthy of the devotion he offered. She reached a tentative hand out and brushed at the hair falling over his forehead, her pale fingers threading through the thick locks that teased her skin. His breath was hot against her belly when she tilted his chin up to meet her eyes. She traced the tip of one finger around the sculpted beauty of his mouth before she pressed it between his lips, and his tongue darted out to taste her.

“Show me.”

Hours later, Ava decided the fight had been worth it. Lying against Malachi’s chest in the lone extravagance of the house, the marble-clad bathroom, she looked over his shoulder.

“I think I like fighting with you.”

He pinched her ass under the water.

“Hey!”

“I do not like fighting with you. Don’t start fights.”

“Some fights are going to happen.”

He closed his eyes and shrugged, the water lapping against his chest. “Don’t start unnecessary fights.”

After a few silent minutes, she said, “I know you don’t see humans as inferior.”

“So what were you really worried about? The Grigori?”

She knew she should be. The shadowed hunters were still stalking her, as far as anyone would tell her. Damien, Leo, and Maxim were still tracking them in Istanbul. Rhys said Dr. Sadik was still suspicious and out of contact. They would have to return to the city at some point, and she really had no idea what she’d be walking into.

“Hmm?” He touched her face, tilting it toward him.

“I’m worried… about lots of things.”

“The Grigori?”

“Yes.”

“Dr. Sadik?”

“Yes.”

He paused for a moment. “Me?”

“I can’t help it,” she said, her shoulders stiff. “Nothing is this… There’s a reason I’ve been alone my whole life, Malachi.”

He lifted his hands to her shoulders and Ava knew he was letting his magic soothe her. She’d only suspected it before, but there was a tingling kind of hum that she felt when he used magic.

“Don’t use—”

“Shhh.” His head dipped down and his lips teased behind her ear. “Just to relax your muscles. I won’t touch your emotions, canım. Just let me help you.”

Giving in, she leaned back and felt his arousal pressed against her, but he continued massaging her shoulders and arms. Her neck. The base of her skull.

“You’re really good at that.” He grabbed a silk washcloth from the side of the bath and rubbed some soap on it. The smell of orange blossom and fig filled the steaming room. “The bathroom here is amazing.”

Though the house may have been modest, the bath was not. Clad floor to ceiling in grey marble, it was a picture of indulgence. A deep soaking tub filled one corner, and a rain-shower was in the other. There were steam vents and heated floors. Fragrant soaps and oils to condition the skin. Ava decided she might not ever leave as long as Malachi would keep her company.

“We Turks like our baths,” he said as he brought the soap to her skin, the bubbles coating her shoulders before he began massaging her again.

“I can tell.”

“And for Irin, too, touch is very important. Especially between… lovers.”

Reshon. The word whispered in his mind.

Ava cleared her throat and said, “That makes sense.”

“We’re a very affectionate people,” he said, lifting one arm and repeating the massage. Soap. Slick skin. Deep, soothing strokes. He brought her arm up to lie over his shoulder, and she twisted her fingers in his hair as he covered her with the rich scent. “When we are young, we are coddled. Children are so rare, they are fussed over. I was cuddled and played with constantly as a child. I could barely get any time alone.” His voice held no resentment, only a hint of laughter.

“I spent most of my time alone,” she whispered, her eyes half-closed. “I liked it that way.”

“Did you like it?” he asked, washing and massaging her other arm. “Or were you simply accustomed to it? Was it easier without the voices?”

Both her arms stretched around his neck, baring her body to him as Malachi moved on from her arms to brush the silken cloth over the rise of her breasts.

Her voice hitched. “It was easier. I didn’t have to concentrate on blocking the voices when I was alone. It was peaceful.”

“Are you peaceful now?” he whispered, the cloth ducking lower, stroking over her breasts, circling her navel, until her body was trembling.

“Malachi—”

“Relax,” he murmured, leaving the cloth and using his hands to stroke over her flesh. Slowly, deliberately teasing her. His tattooed arm slid under the water and toward the lush heat of her. His fingers dipped to the juncture of her thighs, feathering touch along the crease before he dipped into her slick heat. Her body soft with pleasure, she arched back and felt his lips tracing down her neck.

“I love touching you, Ava.” His breath whispered across her neck. “You were meant to be touched and kissed. To feel pleasure.”

She felt it rising. His fingers moved deliberately, his other hand on her breast as he played Ava’s body, and her sighs echoed off the marble walls.

“You…” She gasped, looking down to see his black-scribed arms cradling her, one hand teasing her breasts as the other disappeared into the water, driving her slowly mad. “Come in me. I want you…”

“I love watching you.” He turned her head, swallowing her cries of pleasure in a kiss as she came against his hand. Her skin was alive. She felt him behind her, the hair on his chest brushing against her back, his legs cradling her. Every sense was alive. Every instinct pulled her toward him.

Reshon.

The voice hadn’t come from Malachi. The word whispered through her own mind as he kissed her over and over, his arms banded around her, dark ink against pale skin. She could see the faint silver glow as his talesm reacted to her.

Reshon.

He slowly worked her down, her pulse calming under his hands. There were tears in her eyes when they slipped closed.

“Sleep, Ava,” he whispered as she laid her cheek against his shoulder. “I will hold you.”

The next week passed in relative peace. Malachi continued with his dogged patience, diffusing the fights Ava seemed unable to stop instigating, even when she tried. Try as she might, she couldn’t seem to combat his steady affection. She snapped; he joked. She sneered; he smiled. It was maddening.

It was wonderful.

And with each small conflict, each new resolution, Ava felt a growing current of devotion and loyalty. Their chemistry was undeniable, but every time she turned from him and Malachi pulled her back with a simple hug or teasing kiss, a little bit of her walls crumbled, rolling toward a growing foundation of something she could barely acknowledge.

Love.

She was falling in love with him.

They were sitting across from each other, sipping two beers at a café as Malachi watched one of the cruise ships with amusement.

“There are so many of them.” He played with her fingers as he stared at the massive cruise ship that had just docked, travelers pouring off like ants. “How do they even see the country with so many—”

“I’m falling in love with you.”

He stopped speaking immediately, a smile teasing the corners of his mouth. “Hmm.”

Ava narrowed her eyes. “Hmm? I say I think I’m falling in love with you and all you say is ‘Hmm’?”

Grabbing her hand and holding on when she tried to pull it away, he said, “What did you want me to say?”

Her mouth dropped open. “I… Maybe that you… You know what? Never mind. I changed my mind.”

“So you’re not in love with me?”

“I never said I was!”

“Exactly.” He winked and pulled her hand to his lips, kissing each finger deliberately. “If you had…”

“If I had?” She knew she was holding her breath, but she didn’t know why.

Malachi leaned closer. “How do you think I feel about you?”

How did he feel about her? She didn’t even need to ask, really. She knew without asking that he loved her. It was in every kiss. Every embrace. Every teasing comment. Every patient smile. His dogged affection had worn her down. In that moment, her heart tumbled, and she could feel the flush on her skin.

“I think…” Her eyes were drawn to a man who had just walked around the corner. “Grigori.”

He frowned. “You think Grigori?”

She clutched his hand. “Grigori. There’s a Grigori coming up the sidewalk. He’s—”

“Another one just came in the back. He’s by the bar.”

Grabbing his wallet and throwing a fifty-lira note on the table, Malachi rose. “Walk calmly.”

“He’s already looking at me.” Her heart raced. “Malachi, he’s already—”

“This one spotted us, too. They’re not here hunting. They’re here for us.”

They walked toward the sidewalk, nodding at the host who looked at them in confusion. Malachi muttered something in Turkish as they passed and the man nodded. He kept his hand on the small of Ava’s back, walking quickly in the other direction. Ava chanced a look over her shoulder. Both Grigori were following them. Another melted into the foot traffic as they passed another café.

“There’s three. Three of them are behind us.”

“I’m leading them away from the humans.”

“Should I—?”

“Stay with me. Keep yourself behind me when we get there.”

“Get where?”

They were speed-walking up the hill until Malachi ducked into a side street. Houses rose on either side, the street dead-ending into a hill covered by pink oleander and trash. Ava tripped over a scattering of cans that littered the ground as Malachi leaned down for a quick kiss, his eyes gleaming.

“I love you. Of course I love you. Now stay behind me while I take care of these nuisances.”

He turned his back to her and drew two silver daggers from the sheaths against his skin just as six Grigori soldiers turned the corner.