She couldn’t see his eyes in the low light of the early evening that filtered into the room. There was a lamp in the corner, but his back was to it.
“Why did you fall in love with me?”
She melted at the vulnerability in his voice, so different than the reckless confidence he’d always worn before.
“I fell in love with your mind, which understood me. Your humor. The way… you would look so stern, then just the corner of your mouth would turn up when you smiled.”
His face was still in shadow, but she thought she saw a smile tilt the corner of his lips, so she continued.
“I love the way you would take care of me. Of anyone you cared about. You were—are—one of the most thoughtful men I’ve ever met. And I loved how confident you were, because it gave me confidence. I thought you could protect me from anything.”
“But I didn’t.”
“You did. There were dozens of Grigori in that cistern, but I’m alive. You protected me. Even though it cost your life.” She could feel some of the tension leave his shoulders. “I’m just confused.”
“Are you sorry we made love?”
“No,” she whispered. “When I touch you, it’s like being home.”
“I feel the same way.”
She blinked hard to force back the tears. “But you don’t remember me. Or why you fell in love with me.”
“But I do love you,” he said urgently. “I don’t understand either, but when you’re in pain—as you are right now—I ache with it. I felt incomplete until I found you. Half-alive. Now you’re telling me you still feel that way, and I don’t know how to fix it.”
She couldn’t stop the tears that fell. She could hear the panicked sound of his inner voice, but she closed her eyes and whispered the spell to quiet him.
“Ava—”
“I need time, Malachi.”
“Don’t push me away.” His voice was low. Pained. “Please.”
“I won’t.” She admitted it to herself, “I can’t.”
As much confusion as she felt, she knew she needed him. She wanted the comfort of his body desperately, wanted the soothing sound of his voice. She wanted more than memories.
“This is going to take time.” She tugged him closer and leaned against his shoulder. Whatever her mind was telling her, Ava’s body shouted loud and clear that her mate was home. Wounded, but alive.
Her soul recognized him. Her body did, too. Her mind and heart would just have to catch up.
“A wound doesn’t heal,” she whispered, “just because it stops bleeding.”
“But it does heal.” He put a finger under her chin and tilted it up, so she looked into his familiar grey eyes. Pure calm. Pure determination. It settled her in a way she couldn’t put into words. It was as if her soul took a breath after holding it for too long.
“It will heal.”
They sat on the bed together, wrapped in blankets, enjoying the silence of the apartment. Ava had no idea where the others had gone. If she had to guess, they’d taken off right about the time things got interesting. And loud.
The clock on the small desk read 01:11. Midnight had crept by and dawn was far off, but Ava was wide awake. Sleeping next to Malachi had settled her energy and she’d rested better than she had in months.
The sex probably helped, too.
Her mind was clear, and her magic ran like a fluid line down her back. She could feel the mating marks he’d given her as if they were a living thing. She’d had so little time to get used to them after he’d marked her, and then he’d been gone and their power had dulled, though not disappeared, in his absence.
In his presence, she could sense them again, like a living coat of magic.
She felt his palm at her neck.
“They’re glowing,” he murmured. “Your marks.”
“Do you remember giving them to me? At all?”
“No.” He hesitated. “It’s very hard to explain. With some things, once people tell me something that has happened, then it pops into my mind, like a puzzle piece fitting, and it’s as if that memory was never gone. Other times…”
“What?”
He shook his head. “There are blanks that refuse to be filled. Maxim tried to explain to me what happened in the cistern, but none of it seemed familiar. The only flashes I have seen so far have been of you. I can… hear you, sometimes. Hear you scream. Smell the water. But other than that—”
“Maybe it’s better you don’t remember.”
“I could find the scribe house in Cappadocia, but I had no memory of Evren, Max, or Leo. Only a little of Rhys. I had a single memory of us there. The rest came in pieces. Many of which I still don’t have.”
She rubbed his arm soothingly, tracing the new spells he’d written there, which were also glowing softly as he touched her. “And these?”
“I had nothing when I first woke. I’ve scribed these only in the last month or so.”
“They’re different.”
“How?”
Ava smiled. “They’re neater, for one thing. You did the first set when you were what? Twelve? Thirteen?”
“I would have started when I was thirteen.”
She nodded. “So they were messy. But… it was kind of endearing.”
He smiled back. “How?”
“You were this big badass, right? You always were. But then you had this kind of childish writing on your left wrist and forearm. Almost like a kid drawing on himself.” Her finger ran up his arm, over the sensitive notch of his elbow and the delicate skin there. His powerful body shivered under the touch.
“Ava—”
“There were certain letters I could tell you’d exaggerated. Made more elaborate, like a young man would show off.” Her finger trailed up the curve of his bicep and over his shoulder. “Then, as you grew up, you could tell you’d matured. The letters became neater. More economical. No boyish flourishes, just… utilitarian, I guess.”
“Did you like them?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
She laid her lips on the swell of his shoulder, where a particularly beautiful talesm had once lived. Now the area was bare, but the flesh pulsed with life.
He was a miracle. A gift. But not a gift without cost.
“Your talesm were beautiful and frightening. They were you.”
She closed her eyes and her tongue flicked out, tasting his skin. A noise left his throat, and he closed his eyes, letting his head hang down as his skin shivered under her touch.
“I could stay here for days, Ava. Talking to you. Touching you,” he said. “Making love to you and learning you again. But I don’t think we should.”
The thought was tempting, but she reluctantly agreed, so she pulled her mouth away from the salt of his shoulder and shifted away. “I know. We should get back to the Oslo house.”
“I don’t like the coincidence of Sari’s haven being compromised right when there is an influx of Grigori into the nearest major city.”
“You don’t think it’s a coincidence at all, do you?”
“No.”
She sighed. “I’d like to stop running. Just for a little bit. Think that’ll ever happen again?” She scooted forward, but he grabbed her hand before she could leave the bed.
“We went to the ocean once, didn’t we?”
She smiled. Nodded. “Do you remember?”
“I remember you, standing near the waves. It was dark, and someone had lit lanterns that flew into the sky.”
She nodded, and her heart swelled. “Yes. That happened in Kuşadası.”
“See?” He kissed the palm of her hand before he smiled. “It is coming back to me even more now. Soon I will remember every moment.”
She tried to lighten the mood so she wouldn’t cry. “When you get to the part about remembering you need to put your towels in the laundry basket, focus really hard on that one, okay?”