The Scribe

“No! Shut up. I’m talking here, remember? You kiss me, and the next day you act like I don’t even exist. You ask me to trust you, but who am I supposed to trust? You’re hot and cold. You pawn me off on Rhys, and then you’re mad at him when he’s the only one who makes me feel slightly normal. And now? You’re just there. All the time. And don’t even get me started on what you’ve been thinking, because that—” She broke off when saw a young scribe poke his head through the door. Malachi spun around and barked something in the Old Language that had the man scurrying back.

Ava snapped, “That’s right, scare the nice scribe, why don’t you? Jerk.”

His eyes widened. “You’re calling me… a jerk?”

“I could call you a lot worse.”

“I have a few choice words myself. And everything I’ve done has been to protect you, so stop bitching at me.”

“Bitching at you?”

“Yes, bitching. You kissed me as much as I kissed you. I backed away because I didn’t want to overwhelm you, and what do you do?” He stepped closer and glared. “Rhys? After everything? Rhys! Where was he when the Grigori—”

“He’s my friend!”

“He wants a hell of a lot more than friendship, love.” The last word dropped with a sneer. “If you’d pay attention, you’d have figured that out by now.”

“So what if he does? It’s not like you have any claim on me. You act like you don’t want anything to do with me.”

“Is that what you think?” His voice fell, and he put his hand on the side of her neck. Immediately, her pulse roared. Her mind went silent. There was only him. His scent and touch. The rest of the world went quiet when his thumb stroked the base of her throat. “You really think I have no claim on you?”

She swallowed with effort; her eyes locked on the stormy grey in his. “None.”

“Really, Ava?” He leaned down, his breath whispering across her cheek. “How do you feel when I touch you, can?m?”

Her mind warred with her body. She ached to have him close the distance. Ached to feel his lips on hers again. But her protective instincts went on high alert.

Too close! Once he had her, he’d tire of her. He’d leave like the others. And if he left…

“You could be anyone,” she whispered, the lie bitter on her tongue. “Any… any Irin man would feel like you.”

Malachi froze. Then his head drew back and his hand left her neck. When she managed to meet his eyes, they were full of cold anger. His soul, however, whispered hurt. She said nothing, already hating herself for lying to him. No one felt like him. No one sounded like him. But she was tired of feeling jerked around, and her feelings—the depth of them—frightened her.

“I’m going for a run,” he said. “We’ll talk later about your Dr. Sadik. Don’t call him again.”

Ava was too bruised to argue. “Fine.”

He left, and she was alone again.

“What’s gnawing at you, love?”

“Hmm?” She looked up. It was dark outside, and she and Rhys were sharing a drink in the garden. They’d eaten at the scribe house, the table a mesh of languages Ava had been able to disappear into. Turkish, English, German, the old Irin language, and a few more she hadn’t recognized. Among them all, she’d felt comfortable being silent. Malachi hadn’t been there. He’d disappeared in the afternoon and, as far as she knew, hadn’t come back.

“Thinking about tall, dark, and brooding again?”

Annoyance flared. “My life doesn’t revolve around him, you know?”

“I know it doesn’t. Nor should it. So why don’t you wipe the frown off your face and enjoy the wine? It’s… well, it’s not great. But it’s not horrible, either.” He smiled, a brilliant flash of white in the twilight.

“Don’t tell me how to feel. I’ll be annoyed if I want to.”

“Oh, two hundred years was almost enough to make me forget the churlishness of an angry female.” Rhys threw an arm around the back of her shoulder and leaned in. “Nothing quite like it. And all that anger sitting behind so much power? It’s a wonder more Irin don’t suffer from missing—”

“You talk too much.” She pulled him down by the collar and kissed him. Hard. His lips were frozen in shock, and Ava released them almost immediately, pushing him back. “Sorry.”

His voice was a rough growl. “Finished punishing him?”

“I said I was sorry.”

“Don’t be.” His arm slipped lower, looping around her waist and pulling her into his chest. Then his mouth met hers in a yearning kiss. Hungry. Biting. Rhys’s lips pressed against hers, and his tongue licked out, teasing along her bottom lip until she gasped. He danced along the edge of desire, his hands holding her carefully, his mouth doing wicked things to her own. After a few heated moments, he pulled away, his green eyes practically glowing in the moonlight.

“Well,” he said. “That was…”

Her cheeks were flush with embarrassment. “It was definitely…”

“Fine.” He sat back and his shoulders slumped a little. “It was fine.”

And Ava felt exactly the same. “Totally and utterly… fine.”

They both let the silence hang for a moment.

“Why wasn’t it more than fine?” Rhys asked.

“It should have been. Good technique.”

“Well, that’s nice to hear, considering there’s been a necessary lapse in practice.”

She patted his thigh. “No, you’re good.”

“Just good?” The corner of his mouth lifted. “Maybe I should try again.”

Ava couldn’t stop the smile. “Please don’t. It would just be weird at this point.”

“Totally agree.” He squeezed her shoulder.

Silence fell between them again, and Ava felt the depths of her own stupidity. Her kiss had been unfair to Rhys. Unfair to herself. Rhys was her friend. Would this change things? Would he resent her? She was mentally cataloguing her faults when she heard him speak.

“It’s all right, love.”

She whispered, “I wish it had been more than fine.”

“I’m not him,” Rhys said. “I think he’ll figure it out soon. He’s very bright, despite being an idiot. But he holds honor above self-interest, which is both wonderful and maddening.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t lie. We’re past that now. And I’d be lying if I pretended not to know how he feels about you.”

“I’m not…” She struggled to put it into words. “I’m not used to expecting happiness, Rhys. I’d probably punch it if it looked me in the face. So really, I’m as much of an idiot as he is.”

“His voice sounds different to you, doesn’t it?”

She blinked. “How did you know that?”

He seemed to draw away. “I didn’t. Just a guess.”

“What does that mean?”

A slow smile crept across his face. “I don’t think I’m going to tell you. It’ll be too fun to watch you find out on your own.”

Pounding steps approached in the night. Malachi appeared out of the black, shirtless and dripping despite the cool evening air. His talesm seemed to glow when he caught sight of her, a low silver light in the darkness. He said nothing, shooting Rhys a glare as he walked past them and into the house.

“Has he kissed you?” Rhys asked when Malachi was gone.

“Yes. On the island.”

“Was it more than fine?”

Her breath left her body in a rush of memories. “So much more than fine.”