“Would you like to test some more?”
She blinked. “Maybe not while we’re being watched.”
For the first time, Malachi broke into a smile. The relief coursed through him. Ava smiled tentatively, lifting a hand to touch the lips she’d just kissed.
He closed his eyes at the tender touched and whispered, “Hello, Ava.”
“Hi.”
“I think I’m going to hold off on flying to London for a while.”
He frowned, looking down at her as they sat on the couch and drank coffee with Max and Renata, Sari, Damien, Rhys and Leo. Half of them were sitting on the floor, allowing Ava to stretch out at Malachi’s side. She had her arm around his waist and he had his around her shoulders. They spoke quietly to each other as the others made small talk and pretended not to watch them.
“You were going to London?”
“I was not in a good place a few days ago.”
He frowned. “That dream. I tried so hard to ask you where you were that I frightened you.”
“It didn’t make sense to me. I still thought they were only dreams. How could a dream feel so real? I guess my mind rebelled against it.”
“It still doesn’t feel real, does it?”
She shook her head and turned her face into his shoulder. “No.”
“It’s real. I’m really here.”
“I don’t care. If I’ve finally lost it and this is all a hallucination in the loony bin, I’m just going to go with it.”
“Maybe we both died,” he whispered. “Maybe this is heaven.”
Rhys leaned over and slapped the back of Malachi’s head so hard his teeth rattled. “That feel heavenly, brother?”
Ava fought back a smile and drew her legs up and over his so she was almost sitting in his lap. “Don’t damage my mate, Rhys.” There was the first spark of playfulness in her eyes. “I just got him back.”
Rhys smiled at her, a smile so full of love and relief that Malachi was almost jealous. Almost, but not. It was his lap that Ava sat in. Her skin against his. He could feel the calm energy between them. It would occasionally heat when he flashed to a memory of their dreams, and he wondered when he would be able to have her alone. He needed her. Almost desperately. But hers was the greater shock, and he was wary.
“You’re waiting for me to start crying again, aren’t you?”
He cautiously said, “There was a lot of crying.”
“I’m fine. For now.”
He pressed his cheek to the top of her head. “It was understandable. It was very difficult for me to listen to them try to tell you. We thought it would be best if I didn’t just…”
“Walk up and say, ‘Hey, how’s it going? By the way, I’m not dead’?”
“Your reaction might have been somewhat violent.”
“I don’t think you’re wrong.” She let out a sigh and he felt more of the tension leave her shoulders. “Rhys?”
“Hmm?”
“What now?”
Malachi and Rhys exchanged glances. It was the hardest question to answer, past the mystery of how Ava had managed to call him down from heaven.
“I don’t know, darling,” Rhys said. “We didn’t plan much past this moment. He was a bit of a mess in Turkey.”
“I was fine.” Malachi bristled.
“You didn’t even remember your name,” Leo said from the other side of Ava. “You’ve years to go before your talesm are back to normal, and—”
“What?” Ava’s head shot up and clipped the bottom of his chin. “What’s wrong with his talesm?”
Would it change how she saw him? Malachi had never felt the loss of his powers more keenly. Was it possible she would no longer find him a worthy mate? He glared at Leo, who did not get the message.
“They disappeared. It was like the day he was born,” Leo told her blithely. “Well, not completely, of course. But not a single spell remained. All his scars are gone, too.”
“What?” He could feel Ava tense in his arms.
“Leo,” Rhys started. “Perhaps you should let Malachi—”
“He used to have this great nasty gash across his ribs—I’m sure you noticed it, Ava—and it’s completely gone. Of course, it’s possible that when his memory comes back—”
“Wait, what?”
The whole room fell silent.
Ava turned to him. “What about your memories?”
“I don’t… I can’t—”
“You don’t remember… what? The fight in the cistern?”
He swallowed, trying to pull her closer, but she leaned back, eyes intent. “It’s not just my death, Ava.”
“So… what? What don’t you remember?”
Leo and Rhys had wisely fallen silent, and Malachi felt the weight of the room on him.
“I don’t remember much, Ava. About… anything. My family. My life.”
He could barely hear her when she spoke. “Me?”
“I remember a little.”
She pulled away and stood, taking a deep breath. “Oh… shit.”
“Ava, it’s—”
“All of it?” She stared at him, but he couldn’t read her expression. It was confusion. Sadness. Guilt? “But… the market. You remembered the market and the dreams and—”
“They’re coming back to me.” He grabbed for her hand. “Please, Ava.”
There were the tears again. “Do you even remember who I am?”
“Of course I do.”
“Do you? Or is it just this—this mating instinct? If you don’t even remember what we were, or how we fell in love…” Her voice fell away before she whispered, “Do you even love me anymore?”
Everyone was staring, but no one was offering to help explain. Of course, what was there to explain? None of them knew anything.
He stood and took Ava’s hand. “If you would excuse us, I don’t think we need an audience.”
He’d pondered how he would approach this since the day he and Rhys had talked in the library.
“You love your mate. But… you don’t love Ava. You can’t, because you don’t know her anymore.”
But he did! He’d hoped his memories would have returned by the time he found her. He’d hoped, but it was in vain.
“You don’t,” she whispered. “You don’t remember me. You feel the same bond I do, but it’s instinct. You don’t remember Cappadocia or Istanbul. When you showed me the Basilica Cistern… or the way you used to scold me when I would talk about being insane—”
“I still don’t like that, so don’t start,” he snapped.
He closed the door and spun toward her, suddenly angry. With her. With himself. With the whole damn confusing maze. Didn’t she realize? He was as lost as she was. Ava looked shell-shocked, standing in the center of Max’s bedroom, staring at a wall.
“You don’t remember the island or the kiss. The first time we made love. You don’t remember any of it?”
“Stop reminding me of everything I’ve lost. Trust me, I know.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, and he could feel her withdrawing. “How could you not remember?”
“It’s not like I had a choice, Ava!”
“But…” She worked to speak. “It was… our time together, Malachi. It was—”
“Brief. I know. They told me it was only a few months. But we are bound. Marked. So it’s possible—”
“It wasn’t brief,” she said softly. “It was everything.”
He stopped speaking, and the anger drained away.
“It was everything,” she repeated. “The happiest time of my life. The first time I felt like I belonged anywhere. With anyone. With you.”
He reached for her, glad she didn’t pull away. He’d known he loved her, but until that moment, he’d had no concept of how much she had loved him. It thrilled him. Malachi wanted to roar in triumph, but Ava was still trembling.
“I’m remembering more every day. I do remember some things, and—”
“Do you remember any of t
he things I just mentioned?”
He paused. Malachi ached that those moments were a blank in his mind. “No, Ava, but—”
“So you don’t. This isn’t just about me.” She shook her head stubbornly. “And if you don’t remember me—”
“Are you serious?” He was angry again. “I don’t remember you?”
“You just said—”
“Ava, you are the only thing I remember!”
She said nothing, but he could see the doubt in her eyes.
“When I woke… there was nothing,” he whispered. “Nothing. I was nothing until you called me. I heard nothing until I heard your voice. I didn’t remember my name until you named me. I do remember a few things. It’s coming back. And each memory is like a beacon—a marker—of the life I lost. You were the first one. I will remember more. And we will make new memories together. So many that the life I lost will be nothing to compare to it.”
The doubt still lived in her eyes. He wanted to battle her doubt and fear the way he battled a physical enemy, but he couldn’t.
“Please, Ava. You have to understand.”
“I love you.” She spoke so softly he almost didn’t hear her. “I never stopped. Even when you died. But do you love me?”
He knew it without question.
“Yes.”
“But how—”
“I love…” He stepped closer to her and spoke firmly. “I love you.”
How could he make her understand when he hardly understood himself?
“I don’t remember the first time I kissed you,” he said. “I don’t remember the first time we made love. And Ava… I may never remember those things. But I know I love you the same way I know that… I’m right-handed.” He tried to smile, but he knew it came out forced. “I love the taste of oranges because they make me think of my mother… who I also don’t really remember. The same way I know that… I will have to shave twice a day for the rest of my life or resign myself to a full beard. I don’t like guns, but knives are like an extension of my own hand and axes are highly underrated.”
“Malachi—”
He just kept going. “I like beer and not vodka. I get restless when I’m too long indoors and want—need to go running.”
He saw her eyes start to soften, so he stepped closer and prayed she didn’t retreat from him.
“I don’t remember a fraction of what I was taught in my training, who is on the council in Vienna, or what singer is popular on the radio. But I can tell you what foods I like and what music makes me want to tear my hair out. And I can tell you, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I love you.”
She lifted a hand and clenched it above her heart. “Please—”
“Because loving you is part of who I am. It’s not a memory or a moment. It is in my soul. And I will never—can never—forget my soul.”
Ava said nothing. His heart raced. But finally she went to him, embraced him, and Malachi let out a relieved breath. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed his cheek to her temple.
“I don’t understand it either. I just know it’s true.”
“I love you,” she said. “And part of me thinks it’s not fair of me to love you when you don’t remember—”
“Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that.”
“I don’t care!” Her voice was fierce, and he reveled in it. Reveled in her possession. The way her arms tightened around him, claiming his body as her own. “I lost you once. And I pulled you down from heaven to bring you back. You’re mine.”
“Completely.” He kissed her temple. Her cheekbone. “Completely, Ava.”
Working his way down her face, he searched for Ava’s lips.
“Some days—”
He found them. Kissed her silent, but she pulled away to say, “Some days I thought I wouldn’t breathe again. That I didn’t even want to.”
“I need you.” He was rock hard and aching for her. Like her kiss, her body was heat and substance. Not the thin shadow of a dream, but flesh and blood and skin and life.
She began to pull at his shirt. He stepped back and tugged it over his head. Her hands spread out over his chest and dug in, her fingers gripping him almost painfully. Malachi threw his head back and groaned.
“Ava.”
She kissed his chest, licked at his skin, tugged at the hair that grew there and scraped her teeth over a sharply aroused nipple. His hands pushed her shirt up her waist to feel the heat at the small of her back as she painstakingly undressed him. The button on his pants, then the zipper. Then she slipped her fingers down the back and pushed down, taking all his clothes with him. He was helpless under her small hands.
Walking him back to the bed in the corner, she waited until his knees hit the edge, then she came down with him, stripping him of his socks, running her hands up his legs. Her mouth followed everywhere.
“You’re real,” she whispered, over and over again. “Real.”
“Come here.”
“Your face…” She stood and traced a finger over the arc of his cheekbones. The curve of his lips. “Real.” Her warm palm opened on his skin. “Your shoulders…”
Bare. His body hummed with energy, and he tried to ignore the burn of shame at the reminder of his bare skin. He was naked before her in every way.
“Your hands.” Her voice was thick with emotion. He could hear the tears she battled as she reached down and linked their hands together.
“Ava, please. I need you.”
She ignored him, kneeling on the ground between his legs. “Your feet…” Her nails scraped up the sensitive flesh of his ankles. “Real.” Her fingers followed up his calves to his knees. She bit the skin on his inner knee as her fingers tickled the sensitive flesh behind. “Legs. Real. Knees. Real.” Her tongue traced a line up the inside of his thigh.
She brought him back to life only to kill him slowly. Malachi couldn’t tear his eyes away from her lips. She bent down and kissed the very real arousal that was staring her in the face.
“I need you too,” she whispered.
The heat of her mouth enveloped him. She took him deep, and he twisted his hands in her dark hair.
“Ava,” he groaned again, his head falling back and his eyes closing in ecstasy. He wanted to keep watching, but… “I can’t.”
Her mouth left him. “But—”
“Not that.” He would spend himself like a virgin if she kept going, and he needed to be in her, connected more deeply than just her mouth. “Come here.”
He pulled her up and grabbed her waist, tossing her on the bed as he began to undress her.
“Too many.” The shoes and heavy socks were gone. “Clothes.” The pants, history. “In Norway.” The delicate lace-edged panties could be replaced, along with the stockings.
Half undressed, she arched back and fumbled to remove her sweater, long-sleeved shirt, and bra. Malachi took the opportunity to bend down and taste her as she had tasted him.
“Malachi,” she moaned, halting her movements to enjoy his tongue. “I thought…”
“I missed your taste,” he murmured, pausing to lightly bite the inside of her thigh. “The scent of you. Dreams were not enough.”
“Real,” she whispered again. “Not a dream.”
He spread her legs wider, kneeling down on the floor to take the edge off his hunger. Beautiful. She was utterly beautiful in her pleasure. Her legs thrown over his shoulders. His arms holding her down. He felt her shirt hit him in the face.
“Come up here,” she whispered. “Kiss me.”
He kneeled on the bed, bracing himself over her, feeling the heat from her body. Their breaths mingled together when their lips met, and he pulled her leg up as he slid inside, seating himself to the hilt. He thrust his hips when he felt her clench around him.
Real.
Now he understood why she said it, over and over again. Everything paused in that moment, as he looked in her eyes.
Real.
“I love you,” he whispered.
Ava s
miled, and there were tears in her eyes. “I believe you.”
“I love you, reshon.”
“I love you, too.” She held on to him as he began to move. “So much it hurts.”
“Don’t hurt. Please, Ava. Not anymore.”
She was always the one who wanted faster, but this time, she didn’t have to beg.
“Too long.” He was going to come apart in her arms. Fly to pieces when her legs wrapped around him and her heels dug into the back of his thighs. “Ava!”
“Yes,” she breathed. “There you are.”
“I’m here.” He was very, very there.
“Not a dream.”
He reached down, changed the angle of his thrusts until she let out a hitched breath that told him—how did he know?—she was close.
“Yes,” she chanted again. “Yes yes yes…”
He felt her go over the edge and he followed, moving through the rush of her climax and closing his eyes as the lights flashed in his mind. He saw them before, making love in a cave, thousands of miles away, her mouth falling open in pleasure and her head thrown back. The images overlapped in his mind, and he saw them.
The first time.
Again.
Always.
His body met his soul, and Malachi lived.
Chapter Twenty-two
The forest was warmer, but darkness still hovered around the edges. The hedge was wide and high, and though she could hear him on the other side, she did not try to find her way to him. She sat in the center of the dark meadow, knees drawn up to her chest, listening as he paced.
“Why do you keep him away when you brought him back?”
She turned her head and the radiant creature was with her again. “Did I?”
He sat down on the grass next to her and stretched his legs out. “Bring him back? Yes. It was unexpected.”
“How?”
The Fallen glanced up. “I am no longer privy to the whims of heaven. Nor do I fully understand your power.”
“I’m not really sure I have that much power to begin with.”
“If I did not feel your uncertainty, I would think you were jesting.” He grimaced. “Your soul rears in rebellion, even in this place.”
“Rebellion against what?”
The Singer Page 27
