The Singer - Hunter Elizabeth (мир книг .txt) 📗

“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 Kusadas?.”

“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?”

“What?” He frowned, but she could see a familiar gleam of mischief in his eyes. “I have a habit of not putting dirty towels in the laundry? This is… shocking.”

“I’m guessing that bit hasn’t changed at all, has it?”

He grinned, and in that moment, he was the cocky warrior she hadn’t been able to keep away from so many months ago.

“Real,” she murmured.

Ava bent down to lay a searing kiss on his lips before he could stand. He held her head, fisted a hand in her hair to hold her close, before he finally let her catch a breath.

“Real,” he breathed out. “And yours. Everything else, we will work through. Together.”

“Okay,” she whispered, closing her eyes and nodding slightly, though he still clutched her hair in his hand. “Okay.”

It was more than a wish or a hope. It was a commitment. He’d been taken from her, but he was given back. A gift and a miracle. She didn’t know why or how, but he was alive.

There would be fights. Misunderstandings. But those were inevitable, weren’t they? Her heart knew him. Her soul did, too. They would learn each other again. And in the meantime, there would be no secrets.

“Malachi, in my dreams, when you’re not there… There’s someone—”

“Who?”

“Jaron.” The hand in her hair tightened, and he held her even closer. “He’s been there, Malachi. In my head. And he’s shown me things.”

He said nothing for a while, but he relaxed his hands and stroked the hair back from her face, soothing her. Touching her. As if to reassure himself that she was still there and unharmed.

“Tell me everything.”

VI.

Oslo, Norway

Brage lounged on the cold roof of Volund’s house near the waterfront. He watched the cruise ships come in and saw his brothers head out, following the scent of a human female as a shark scented fresh blood.

He waited.

He’d fed again when he arrived in the city. There were already forty brothers in the house, which had been converted into apartments decades ago before the waterfront redevelopment. Normally, it was mostly empty. Now it held the burgeoning swarm of Grigori soldiers Volund had sired. Soldiers who were beginning to make waves among the human authorities.

Police had come by the house the day before, responding to complaints from the neighbors. Loud parties and women’s screams. Brage had been able to assuage them. After all, it wasn’t as if the women were screaming in pain. The officers left with embarrassed grins, and Brage had taken out his anger on the back of one of his younger brothers. They were all told to be more cautious, but Brage knew it was useless.

He wondered why Volund had sent so many. After all, he’d killed the scribe the first time in Istanbul with half the men he had here. It was only a matter of herding the woman and her Irin mate to the right location. He knew they were in the city somewhere.

“Brother?” A young scribe shivered at the door to the stairwell.