The rest of the world might have disappeared. Malachi and Ava glared only at each other.
“Are you always this sarcastic?” he asked.
“Are you always this taciturn?”
He picked up a book again and pretended to read.
Ava said, “I’ll take that as a yes.” She turned back to Evren. “Okay, next question.”
Evren cleared his throat. “It seems improbable, but let’s explore all genetic possibilities and look at your father’s side.”
“Now that could be difficult.”
“Because?”
“I barely know my biological father.”
Her father was a famous musician, Jasper Reed. He and Lena Matheson had never married. It was a brief relationship that only lasted until Lena became pregnant. From Malachi’s research, he knew the father had stayed in the mother’s life in a peripheral way, remaining friendly, but not an active part of his child’s life. Malachi found little to admire about Reed, despite the human’s legendary musical talent.
Children were rare to the Irin. A mated couple would probably only ever have one, possibly two, children in hundreds of years. No one knew why. Perhaps it was simply a divine trade for the unnaturally long life their race had been granted. For that reason, children were unreasonably cherished. Malachi might even say pampered, except for the rigorous magical training that started when Irin children reached the age of thirteen.
The thought of fathering a child and abandoning her was unheard of.
Evren asked questions carefully, but Malachi could tell Ava was becoming more upset. She twisted her ring in a nervous gesture, and the air around her became charged. He had the almost unbearable impulse to shove Rhys from his seat next to her so he could take her hand, just to calm her down. He quashed it. Damien’s warning still rang in his ears. Ava wasn’t a normal Irina who had been nurtured by a loving family. She had been subjected to the battery of human emotions her whole life. In that situation, any Irin male would be able to offer her comfort. It didn’t mean she had a special bond with him, even if he felt drawn to her.
But…
Maybe it was more than just a normal attraction. She wouldn’t let Rhys approach her when she broke down in the hallway. She’d reached for him. Even with her eyes closed, she’d sensed him. Almost as a mate would.
Reshon. The word had become a persistent whisper in his mind.
There has been an overwhelming feeling of comfort as he held her. Malachi knew he was soothing her, but the act of giving comfort fed his soul, as well. Not to mention the intoxicating feel of her skin against his. Then the memories of their kiss on the island—
“Shut up!”
He blinked and looked to her. Ava was glaring at him, and Malachi frowned.
“I wasn’t saying anything!”
“Not out loud. But did you forget I can hear you? You. You’re here, and all the other voices fade, and I just hear you. And there’s this weird mix of pride and frustration and wanting—” Her voice caught. “And guilt and anger and I cannot take it anymore, Malachi. I can’t deal with all this and you, so please just go.”
If she had punched him in the gut, he couldn’t have been as shocked.
“Ava—”
“Go.” He could see a sheen in her eyes. “I can’t handle all your complicated shit and these questions, too. So I need you to leave.”
He saw Rhys begin to rise, but one look from Malachi had the other man sinking to his seat again.
He set down the book. “Fine.” He shoved back his chair and marched from the room, ignoring the voice inside that practically begged him to take her with him. He wouldn’t stay where he wasn’t wanted, even if everything in him said she was exactly where he belonged.
He called Damien from the garden outside the scribe house. Phone reception was spotty in Cappadocia, but there was a corner of one garden that seemed reliable.
“How is the woman?” his watcher asked, by way of greeting.
“Coping.” He paced, frustrated and anxious for some activity after being cooped up in the scribe house for over a week. “Have you learned any more about Dr. Sadik?”
“The therapist seems to be on holiday, from what we can tell. No one is in the office, not even nurses or the receptionist. No sign on the door, either. Considering the summer months, it could be a coincidence—”
“Or it could be that his reason for remaining open left the city.” Malachi drummed impatient fingers against his thigh. Part of him craved the energy of the city. Part of him knew he was only looking to escape his own temptation.
Damien said, “Tell me more about the human.”
“She’s not human, and you know it.”
“She cannot have Irina blood. I spoke with Evren yesterday. There is no evidence from family history that she is anything but a normal human woman.”
“A normal woman who can hear the voice of the soul? A normal woman who can bear our touch? Who craves it, even?”
There was silence on the other end of the phone.
“To answer the question you didn’t ask…,” Malachi said, “Yes, I’ve been keeping my distance. Even though it has been difficult.”
There was still more silence.
“Rhys has been keeping an eye on her, though there was an incident where she became very upset yesterday. He told her about the Rending, and she… She became distraught, as you can imagine. I was eventually able to calm her.”
“Completely understandable,” Damien said quietly. “It is still upsetting for all of us.”
“We have been without Irina influence for too long,” he said. “We become too blunt. I don’t think Rhys expected her to become so upset.”
Another moment of silence, until the watcher said, “Rhys told her?”
“I told you, I have been trying to maintain my distance,” he snapped. “She was curious, so she asked him.”
“But you were the one to comfort her?”
“I sensed her distress.”
“And she asked for you?”
“Not exactly. But she wouldn’t let Rhys touch her, so… She reached for me. I held her until she calmed. Was I supposed to ignore her when I seemed to be the only one who could reach her? The only one who—”
Damien interrupted him with a low chuckle that grew into a longer laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Malachi asked.
“You’ve really been staying away from her all this time?”
“Of course!”
“When have you ever followed my orders so precisely, brother? At most, you take them as suggestions.”
“I was trying to do what was right for Ava. You told me—”
“I think you misinterpreted my advice.”
Malachi stopped the drumming of his fingers. “What do you mean?”
“I only wanted you to slow down. I know how rash you can be. I advised you to give the woman space, not ignore her completely. She’d just had a huge shock, and you were hovering over her like a worried mate. But if you gave her space and she still showed interest in you, then what are you waiting for, you idiot?”
“I thought you said—”
“Do you care for the woman?” Damien asked. “That’s the real question. Not just the thrill of a woman who can stand your touch, but her?”
Did he? Was it too soon to be feeling as strongly as he was? What did he know about Ava, really?
He knew she was intelligent and funny. She was independent. He knew that beneath the tough exterior lay a vulnerable soul, and he suspected a deeply sensuous nature. She was cautious, but unafraid of him, or any of the other scribes she had met. He remembered her, standing boldly among the Grigori, flush with wine and unafraid of the creatures she challenged. Eyes flashing with indignation. Eyes that swung to him, as Malachi saw…