“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. Clad 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.
“I love touching you, Ava.” His breath whispered across her neck. “You were meant to be touched and kissed. To feel pleasure.”
She felt it rising. His fingers moved deliberately, his other hand on her breast as he played Ava’s body, and her sighs echoed off the marble walls.
“You…” She gasped, looking down to see his black-scribed arms cradling her, one hand teasing her breasts as the other disappeared into the water, driving her slowly mad. “Come in me. I want you…”
“I love watching you.” He turned her head, swallowing her cries of pleasure in a kiss as she came against his hand. Her skin was alive. She felt him behind her, the hair on his chest brushing against her back, his legs cradling her. Every sense was alive. Every instinct pulled her toward him.
Reshon.
The voice hadn’t come from Malachi. The word whispered through her own mind as he kissed her over and over, his arms banded around her, dark ink against pale skin. She could see the faint silver glow as his talesm reacted to her.
Reshon.
He slowly worked her down, her pulse calming under his hands. There were tears in her eyes when they slipped closed.
“Sleep, Ava,” he whispered as she laid her cheek against his shoulder. “I will hold you.”
The next week passed in relative peace. Malachi continued with his dogged patience, diffusing the fights Ava seemed unable to stop instigating, even when she tried. Try as she might, she couldn’t seem to combat his steady affection. She snapped; he joked. She sneered; he smiled. It was maddening.