When he entered their small room, Ava was sitting in bed with a frown on her face.
“Where did you go?”
He placed the brush and dye on the side table and knelt beside her. “I wish we were not here. I wish we were someplace beautiful where I could stand with you before my mother and father and speak the old vows declaring you mine.”
Her eyes filled with tears, but they didn’t look sad. “Malachi—”
“I can’t do that, Ava. But I want you to know, I would. I will, someday. And before another hour passes, I want to say the words I can. Words that will mark you as my mate.” He ran the tips of his fingers up her bare spine. “Write on your skin the spells that will bind us together.” His fingers reached the nape of her neck as he bowed his face and kissed over her heart. “Will you let me, reshon? Will you take me, wholly and completely?”
“Tonight?”
“Right now.”
“Your… mate?” She still hesitated at the word, but Malachi smiled.
“Yes.”
“Forever?”
He looked up. “Forever. No turning away until death parts us.”
A tentative smile crossed her lips. “I thought you guys were immortal.”
He kissed her. “We’re all immortal, Ava, as long as our stories are told.” A small frown creased between her eyebrows, so he kissed her again. “Say yes.”
“Yes.”
“Yes?” He smiled.
“Yes, reshon.” She placed her hands on his cheeks, stroking them despite the rasp of stubble. “You’re mine. I knew it weeks ago. So yes.”
Desire roared to life, but Malachi clamped down on it and said, “Take off your clothes. All of them.”
“Every stitch?” The teasing light came back.
“Every. Single. Stitch.” He pulled back the cover and reached for the jar of dye.
“What is that?” she asked as she pulled off her underthings.
“Henna dye. It’s actually what we’ve always used, but I apologize for the brush.” He shook up the dye and then uncapped it, dipping the rough brush into the jar before he looked up. “It should be much nicer than this.”
“What do I do?” she asked, her voice tentative in the silence.
“Turn around,” Malachi said. “Hold still. And let me mark you.”
Ava pulled up her legs and turned her back to him. Malachi sat on the edge of the bed and took a deep breath. He’d dreamed of this moment for hundreds of years. Granted, the surroundings were usually a little more luxurious, but the sight before him…
Ava’s smooth back, pale and glowing in the lamplight. The fine bones of her spine guiding him from the base of her skull to the swell of her buttocks. She was more than he’d dreamt. More than he deserved.
Malachi leaned forward, whispering the ancient vows against her skin, and his breath cast a golden glow as the magic took hold. He lifted the brush and began.
He wrote the spells across her body, the dye taking hold as the magic did. And though the henna would fade with time, the magic would remain, imbued in her skin. Protecting her. Strengthening her. For the rest of her life, his words would mark her. He took care as he wrote, hundreds of years of practice suddenly making sense. Countless hours of instruction. No mistakes were allowed in this; it was the most important talesm he would ever scribe.
Protective spells formed down her back. Whispered aloud as he felt the magic leave his body and enter hers. His lips trailed after his brush, kissing along her backbone as her heart raced beneath his mouth.
“Is it…” She arched her back when she felt the brush trail low. “Is it supposed to feel like this?”
He couldn’t stop the smile of satisfaction. “This is the ritual performed on the mating night. Does it please you?”
She gasped as the brush moved over the base of her spine. She said, “That would be a yes.”
Ava’s scent bloomed and Malachi had to pause, breathing deeply as his forehead rested on her shoulder. “Reshon. Ava…”
“Keep going,” she said, desire lacing her voice. “Don’t stop.”
Minutes turned to hours. She turned when he told her, baring the front of her body when her back and neck where covered with spells.
The spells for longevity were next, arching along her fine collarbone. Malachi groaned when he saw the golden flush across her throat. Her breasts. Her belly. The brush dipped and traced over and over, the ink darkening and drying as the magic glowed beneath it. She appeared lit from within. He bent his head and let his mouth suckle her breast, giving in to the arousal that had become almost unbearable.
She moaned and leaned back. “Malachi?”
“Almost done.”
Spells for increased strength along her arms. Speed on her thighs. Spells for healing across her breasts and belly. He felt the magic leave him, knew he was giving almost dangerously of his own power, but he couldn’t stop.
Her energy spilled over, and he felt the hum begin to build in the air.
“Soon?” She panted.
“Soon.”
The last spells were over her heart, circling around as he pledged himself to her. He dipped in the dye again, then the brush met her skin as Malachi marked her as his mate. The balance of his soul. The bearer of his young. No other would mark her like this. No one but him. The possessive instinct swamped him as he finished the last stroke of the mating ritual. He braced himself over her, allowing the ink to dry as he drank from her lips. Over and over, she met him, as hungry for him as he was for her.
Patience.
Malachi was aroused to the point of pain. His breath came in rasps as her kisses drugged him, making his head spin. He clenched his hands in the loose sheets, allowing the magic to build and grow until her body was covered in a gold glow answered by his own talesm, which shone with a low silver light in the darkness. His magic swelled in recognition of its twin, even without the songs the Irina usually sang. Though untrained, Ava’s magic was powerful. It called to him as their mouths met in aching hunger.
“Do you hear that?” she said, tearing her lips from his, bracing her hands on his shoulders.
“What?”
“That note. I…” Tears touched her eyes, but she smiled. “It’s beautiful. Perfect. It’s… us.”
Complete.
Silver met gold when he tackled her to the bed.
Finally.
His body sang in recognition. Here was desire. Here was beauty. Here was completion. He reached down to test her, but Ava was as ready as he was, her body primed from hours of waiting.
“Yes!” She gripped his arms. “Now, please.”
He entered her with one thrust, halting when he was seated to the hilt, his forehead pressed to hers as they groaned in unison.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Like this. Always like this.”
He took her mouth again, leisurely tasting as he began a slow rhythm. She embraced him, arms wrapped around his chest, legs around his hips. The urgency was there, but Malachi didn’t want to rush.
“Faster,” she said.
He smiled. “No.”
She dug her nails in his shoulders, and he bit back a moan. Then he reached down, gripping her hip and changing the angle until her head fell back and her body bowed. He took his time, ignoring her pleas to rush, delighting in her response as he tested their new connection. Her pleasure was his own. Her desire fed his. He held back—barely—when she came the first time. Then his body picked up a faster rhythm as the world narrowed to her.
“Again,” he whispered.