The Scribe

by Elizabeth Hunter

Gathering up some water, bread, and apricots, Malachi returned to his room to find Ava sitting up in bed, a thin blanket wrapped around her. Her eyes were still sleepy, but they brightened when she saw him walk in.

  “Hey.”

  “Hello.” He smiled. “How do you feel?”

  “Amazingly rested. Oooh.” Her eyes settled on the bottle of water. “For me?”

  “Yes.” He opened it and handed it to her, then set the basket of fruit on the small table beside his bed. He sat on the edge while she emptied half the bottle in one gulp. “Make sure you eat, too. Your body will be recharging for some time.”

  “Mmmm.” She smiled. “I’m not going to complain about your workouts.”

  “I’m glad.” He leaned over and kissed her lips, taking lazy pleasure in drawing a satisfied sigh from his mate.

  “Oh, you’re so good at—” There was a rustle in the hallway outside the room, and Ava’s eyes widened in shock. “There’s someone close.”

  He frowned. “There are more bedrooms past mine, but I’m sure—”

  “I didn’t hear them.” He heard her pulse pick up, and she clutched the blanket around her. “I didn’t hear their voices, Malachi. What’s wrong with me?”

  Suddenly understanding, he said, “Nothing.” He took care to smooth a tendril of hair away from her face and kissed away the frown between her eyebrows. “There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re not hearing them because we made love.”

  “So… sex with you…”

  “When we’re together, I draw away much of your energy. It’s the reason Irin can’t be with human women. The energy we draw during sex is too much. But you…”

  “I have more than average.”

  “Far more. For you, your energy becomes balanced. It makes both of us stronger. But since our relationship is new, I expect you may not hear voices for some hours, even days. I know older couples have more control over it, but until we become more accustomed to…” Suddenly wary, he asked, “Are you all right? I didn’t think to warn you about this.”

  As much as the voices had tormented Ava, they were still one of her senses. He couldn’t imagine what it would feel like if part of his hearing suddenly dropped out. Would he feel vulnerable? Broken? He shouldn’t have worried. A glorious smile spread over her face and Ava fell back into the pillows on the bed.

  “Best. Afterglow. Ever.”

  Chuckling, Malachi stripped off his shirt and lay beside her, still craving contact with her skin. He absently wrote on her back as she curled into his body again.

  “What are you writing on me?”

  “Property of Malachi.”

  “Haha. Seriously, what is it?”

  Well, it wasn’t as if he’d lied. “Mostly charms to help you sleep. For good dreams.”

  “I had the wildest dreams last night. So vivid.”

  “Really?” His lips curled in satisfaction. She was already dream-walking with him. Soon, she’d know what it meant.

  “Mmhmm. I don’t really remember what they were, but they were good.”

  “I’m glad.” He paused. “What would you say about going to the sea, canım? There is a house near the shore that we use for a retreat. It’s safe.”

  “No Grigori?”

  “No Grigori.”

  “No endless questions?”

  “Only you and I would be there.”

  “Does it have bigger beds?” She wiggled against him, trying to stay on the mattress.

  “Most definitely.”

  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 w
ith 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. Cla
d 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.