“I love you,” he whispered.
“Happy Midwinter.” Her eyes sparkled. “I thought this was a good start to the day.”
“This is the best start to any day.” He voice was rough. “I want to wake up with you every day.”
She bit his chin. “How about most days?”
A grumble.
“And,” she said, “on the nights we aren’t together, I will dream-walk by your side. We’ll meet each other in our sleep and love each other there, even when we’re miles apart, my love.”
His heart was so full he couldn’t bear it. Dream walking was a special magic reserved for mates. Only mated scribes and singers had the ability to meet each other in dreams, their souls touching even if their bodies were apart. He rolled Renata to her back and sank into her, their easy pace forgotten. He needed her. Needed her laughter and her heat and the brightness in her eyes. Needed the peace of her presence and the comfort of her hand.
“You are my mate,” he said, taking her mouth in a hard kiss. “You are my mate, Renata of Fatima.”
Her lips were flushed with pleasure, swollen from his kisses. Her breath came in quiet pants as he drove her body to climax.
“You are my mate, Maxim of Riga,” she breathed out. “I will have no other.”
“I will have no other.” He heard the quiet catch of her breath. “I want no other but you. Forever.”
Her body tightened around him, and her back arched in pleasure when she came. Max drove into her, biting the pillow beside her instead of shouting his pleasure when he climaxed. He let out a long breath and fell to the side, gathering Renata to his arms, locking their bodies together.
“I want to stay in bed all day,” he said.
“We have guests.”
Somewhere below them, the smell of baking bread and the sound of bright voices drifted up the stairs.
“Hang our guests,” Max said. “They know where the food is.”
Renata ran her fingers through his short hair. “Is Evin well?”
He nodded. “What did she do?”
“It felt like someone lancing an infection,” Renata said. “It all poured out. And it hurt. So, so badly.”
He hugged her closer.
“But then it was gone. And… I don’t know. Things feel clearer. The pool is still filled with water, but she cleaned out the leaves and muck that had fallen in. I can see the bottom now.”
Max kissed her forehead. “I’m glad.”
“You know we can’t really hide in bed all day, right?”
He lifted his head. “There’s a washbasin in the corner. We’ve made do with worse amenities over the years.”
She laughed, truly laughed, and he fell in love with her all over again.
“We can’t stay in bed all day,” she said. “Today is Midwinter. And there’s a little girl downstairs who deserves to celebrate.”
That night Renata helped Evin light the Midwinter candles, the sweet smell of beeswax filling the dining room where their feast was laid out. Combining their food stores had led to a far more luxurious meal than Max had expected.
They had a roast from Zana’s frozen store of winter venison he’d hunted before the storm and roasted potatoes Renata had brought from the village. She’d also brought mild red sauerkraut and a cabbage salad with carrots. Thawra had taught Renata how to make soft sweet rolls she called kulicha, filled with dates and hazelnuts, and a chickpea stew simmered in spicy tomatoes and chilies.
Evin had stuffed herself with so many sweets Max didn’t know how she ate anything once they sat down, but Zana filled her plate and she ate everything but the sauerkraut, chattering away about the songs Renata had taught her that day and the newfound silence in her mind.
And though Renata still sat at the opposite end of the table from Zana, she smiled and asked him more questions about his life and business in Syria. She told him she had a sister with Jaron’s blood and sat silently as Max told them the story of Jaron’s fall and hopeful redemption. Max could tell the story moved both Zana and Thawra greatly.
After dinner, Max got out the guitar to play some Midwinter music, and Renata surprised him again by singing a traditional song in the style of the Southern Alps, her voice lighter and more playful than he’d ever heard in his life. He watched her as she sang, imagining the living room filled with their own family, imagining friends who came to visit this house, filling it with love and laughter and new memories.
He wanted it desperately.
Renata met his eyes, smiling as she sang one song after another. In the music, he heard her heart waking.
She would always be a warrior. Always.
Perhaps if life had not turned the way it had, she wouldn’t have been. Perhaps she would have been a scholar and a mother and a mate, passing on her songs to other singers and living out her life with another man.
But the storm had come, and it had not been gentle. The scars had broken the path of her life, cutting off some trails even as it cleared others. In another life, Max might never have known her, might never have loved her.
Did that make him thankful for the storm?
No. He simply accepted it.
Max set the guitar down and joined Renata on the sofa when they were finished singing. Thawra had taken a mandolin from the music room and tuned it. She started playing on it, picking through the notes carefully until she became accustomed to the instrument.
“It’s very like a tambur,” Zana said. “Not exactly, but it’s close.”
“And she plays?” Renata asked.
“She plays beautifully.” The love on the man’s face was so evident Max almost looked away. “Her mother taught her before she died, and Thawra has already started teaching Evin.”
Evin was sitting at her mother’s feet, watching everything Thawra did with unwavering attention.
“Your daughter is extremely bright,” Renata said.
Zana put a hand over his heart and bowed his head. “Thank you. She is a gift to us.”
“She picked up the simple magic I taught her today almost instantly.”
Max said, “She reminds me of Matti.”
Renata nodded. “I had the same thought.”
“Who is Matti?” Zana asked.
“My brother’s child,” Max said. “She has two different fallen archangels in her bloodline, so Matti and her brother are… different. We think. But Ava and Malachi seem well prepared in dealing with them.”
“We have no idea what to do with her magic,” Zana said. “Thawra does her best to understand, but her abilities are quite different than Evin’s. She can feel emotions very strongly, but she doesn’t drain them from others the way Evin does.”
“She might be able to if she’s trained in more magic,” Renata said as Thawra started playing a lively tune by the fire.
“Perhaps,” Zana said. “The only solution so far has been to isolate them. That’s why we liked this mountain. The village is close enough for me to visit for supplies, but the caves are isolated enough to keep them from being overwhelmed.”
Max watched Renata, wondering if her mind was going where his was.
“You should stay,” she said quietly.
Zana was wary. “I know something very upsetting happened here. I can guess some things. I know this is your home. We do not want to disrespect your home in any way.”
“The school in the village is good.” Renata ignored his objections. “It’s a long walk, but it’s possible.”
Max put a hand on the back of her neck. “Renata, are you sure?”
She took a deep breath and turned to Zana. “I am uncomfortable with you. That is not your fault. It simply is.”
Zana nodded but didn’t say a word.
“But I respect what you have done to protect your mate and child,” she continued. “And your daughter…” Renata cleared her throat. “She healed a very deep wound in me. One that I did not think would ever leave me. I am not healed entirely, but I will be one day. And I have Evin to than
k for that.”
Zana said, “There is no debt.”
“It’s not a debt I object to,” Renata said. “You’re right. This is a safe place. It’s also a good one. There was a garden here once. There was a dairy that produced the sweetest milk I’ve ever tasted. This was a safe place for travelers and those seeking shelter.”
Max squeezed her hand. “There is a cottage beside the dairy barn.”
“It could be repaired,” Renata said. “You could live here and make this place a haven again. You could take care of guests and fix things. You know how to do that.”
Zana nodded, and Max could see the man’s eyes shining. “I am good at fixing things. And Thawra is an excellent gardener. I have never kept cows, but I grew up with goats.”
Renata laughed and blinked hard. “Goats would work too.”
“Renata—”
“I think you found this place for a reason,” she said in a rush. “I think your family came here for a reason. Your steps were guided by heaven, and we should honor that. Stay here, Zana. Raise your children here. Max and I can help you.”
“And you would be a help to us,” Max added. “I know this place would be well tended in your and Thawra’s care.”
Renata said, “And there are songs I should teach Evin. She has the gift of memory. She can learn the songs.”
The music had stopped, and Max glanced over at Thawra and Evin. Thawra had a hand on her chest and eyes that stared at Renata with wary hope.
“Make this your home,” Renata said to her. “This was a home for so many for generations. It wants the presence of children again. I can’t be here all the time, but if you make this place your home… I would be very happy about that.”
Evin’s small mouth was hanging open. “Can we stay?”
“You would have to walk a long way to school,” Max said, “and help your mother and father.”
The little girl nodded. “I can do that.” She turned to her mother. “Mama, I can do that.”
Thawra started crying. She put a hand to her throat and forced out the words, “Can you teach me… to sing?”
Renata nodded, and Max put his arm around her shoulders.
“Yes,” she said. “I can teach you to sing.”
Chapter Eleven
Six months later…
“Where did you send them?” Renata asked as they reached the crest of the hill.
“Cappadocia,” Max said.
They’d handed off the car in the village. Zana and Thawra would be taking it for the summer while Max and Renata stayed at Ciasa Fatima.
“Cappadocia?” asked Renata. “Not Istanbul?”
“It was a popular decision. Evin is finished with her first school term. Orsala wanted to work more closely with Thawra, and the brothers in the library there heard we had the world’s best carpenter in our employ. They built an addition on the library and need bookcases to fit the caves. They were willing to pay handsomely for the work, so it seemed like perfect timing.”
“And Thawra can have the baby surrounded by Irina healers,” Renata said. “That will make the birth more comfortable.”
“And the scribes can teach Zana the spells he’ll need for the child. So you see? A summer in Cappadocia will be warm but will suit everyone.” He put an arm around her waist and pulled her close. “Particularly me.”
Renata smiled and kissed him. “I’m just glad Zana hasn’t bought goats yet.”
“Chickens are the only things we have to keep alive. And the vegetable garden.”
“So you’re going to be a farmer for the summer?”
He raised his eyebrows. “I’m always up for a challenge.”
“You better be with a mate like me.” She ducked under his arm and raced across the meadow, leaping over the new fences that Zana had built and up onto the porch that no longer creaked.
Max tackled her just as she got the door open. He threw her over his shoulder and dropped his backpack.
“The chickens can wait.” He slapped her backside. “I need to claim my woman.”
“You know, it’s a good thing I packed my knives away, or I’d carve my mating vow into your ass.” She slapped it for emphasis, but she was lying. She would never mar Maxim’s ass. It would be a crime against heaven.
“You’d never do it,” Max said as they walked up the stairs. “You like it too much.”
The house smelled of lemon oil and pine. Thawra would have aired it out and made it ready for them before they left. There were flowers in their bedroom, and the windows let in the clear mountain air.
Max set her down and stood staring over her shoulder with his mouth agape. “Heaven above.”
“What?” Renata turned from the windows and noticed the bed.
It was a work of art. The formerly rustic wooden bed had been carved with an intricate pattern of stars and flowers. Shining mother-of-pearl inlay decorated each star, the flowers were brightly painted, and darker woods were mixed into the pattern, giving the entire headboard stunning dimension. It was clearly inspired by Syrian design, but the flowers carved into the lattice were the bright yellow, purple, and orange flowers that grew in the meadow in front of the house.
“Oh, Maxim.”
“What a gift he has,” Max said. “And what a mating gift for us.”
Renata smiled. “If you ruin this bed, Maxim, I will never forgive you.”
He huffed. “That was a hotel bed in Copenhagen, and I can’t believe you’re still bringing it up.”
“Still.” She walked over and dragged him to the new sofa by the window. “Maybe we better start on a slightly less valuable piece of furniture.”
“If you insist.” Max dragged Renata’s shirt over her head and tossed it out the open window. “You won’t be needing that for the next few weeks.”
“What if I get cold?” The mountain air hit her skin, but she could never be cold looking at Max naked.
As he was becoming. As quickly as possible.
“I’ll warm you up,” he said. “What are mates for?”
Renata closed her eyes and gave in to the poetry of his brush on her skin. The dark henna started at the nape of her neck and traveled down her spine, spells her body would capture and hold on to as Maxim made his vow. She sat in the flicker of firelight, cross-legged in the house where she’d been born, waiting for her mate to finish the magic that would tie them together.
“I searched through the storm,” he said in a low voice, “and I found you.
“My beloved is a fox on the mountainside.
“She ran from me until I whispered gently.”
Renata angled her neck as the sable brush traced over her shoulder and down her arm. He wrote his spells in the Old Language, the language of heaven and the angels. The language she would sing as they made love.
Come, my beloved
Come to my hand
Come to my bed
My Renata, born in love
Born again in blood.
I will ever be your cleft in the rock.
Ever your faithful shelter
Ever and always the blade in your sure hand.”
Max finished the mating mark over her heart, writing the words of his vow where they would glow as the two of them made love. He knelt before her and kissed her lips, careful not to mar any of his work before the ink dried. “I love you, Renata of Fatima.”
The air around them was heady with magic. He had marked his vow on her body as he would mark her own vow on his, using the sacred ivory needle to tattoo her promise over his heart. Every moment of passion would become a reminder of their pledge. Every time their magic rose, they would be linked.
Renata closed her eyes and let her head fall back in pleasure. She felt Max all around her, not only in his brush, but his scent and his magic. She was covered in him, covered in his extraordinary love and unwavering devotion.
Creator, I thank you for this man. Of all men, you have given him to me. Let me always guard this treasure.
When she c
ould feel the henna cracking, feel the magic sink into her skin, she pushed her lover back onto the pillows she’d set before the fire. Rising over him, she joined their bodies together, placing both hands on his shoulders as she let her head fall back in pleasure.
She let go.
Sorrow had no place here. Joy was everything. Peace was in each touch.
“I love you,” she whispered. “You are the most beautiful man I have ever known.” Renata opened her eyes and saw the shine in his eyes. “Don’t you know that, Maxim? You brought me back to life.”
He brought his hand up to cup her cheek. His finger traced her lips. “Sing to me.”
Renata opened her heart and sang:
“Maxim of Riga, I name you
My beloved. Heart’s redeemer.
I heard your call as I wandered
In the wasteland.
You found me bloody from my enemies and
You spoke softly to me
Calling me back to life.
Beloved mate of my choosing
Steward of my heart
Ever faithful, always grateful
I will ever be yours.”
The magic surrounded them as they made love, and when they reached their release together, Max’s bright silver talesm shone in the darkness as Renata’s gold mating marks lit and came to life.
“We’re one.” She drew in the scent of smoke and magic in the air. “I didn’t know what that meant until now.”
“My mate.” Max smiled and kissed her face, pressing his lips to her cheeks and her chin and her nose until she was giddy with love and magic and power. “My mate, Renata.”
“My mate, Maxim.” She could have brought a generator to life with the power of his smile.
They were lying in their bed carved with stars and flowers, enjoying the moonlight that bathed them from the window.
“Are you happy here?” he asked her.
She rested her chin on his chest. “I am happy with you. So I am happy here.”
The Storm Page 12
