The Singer (36 page)

“Your shirt, Leo.” She didn’t want to be mad, but months of suppressed anger reared up. She’d tried. She’d tried so hard to keep going. And no matter what she did, Malachi followed her. In her memories. Her dreams. Now, even the scent of him crept up on her from his brother’s clothes. It was wrong. So wrong.

Leo only looked confused. “My shirt?”

“It smells—that smells like Malachi’s shirt! Are you wearing his shirts now? Why would you do that?”

Leo grabbed for her hand, but she was already heading toward the door. Whatever sick intervention they had planned was over. She was done. Gone. She never wanted to see them again. She needed to get as far away from their twisted world as she could. Ava was getting off the Irin roller coaster, and she never wanted to—

“Ava, please!” Rhys cried out. He ran to her, wrapping his arms around her before she could open the door. “We didn’t know how to tell you. We didn’t know what was right.”

She whirled around in his arms. “What the hell are you talking about?”

The memory of his voice grew louder. It pressed on her. Without her volition, she saw the mating marks at her wrists begin to glow.

Rhys saw them, too. “Open your mind, Ava. Remember what I said. Look at your arms and
listen
. Don’t you hear him? Don’t you feel him?”

The memories crashed through her. “Why are you doing this?” she said, tears falling from her eyes. “Why?”

Leo stepped forward and raised his hands in supplication. “He’s alive, Ava.”

“No.”

“We didn’t know how to tell you.”

“Shut up.
Shut up!”
She could feel it. Her heart was actually breaking in her chest. “Why would you even say that? I saw him die! Let me go, Rhys. This is sick—”

“We don’t know how,” Rhys whispered. “He’s alive. Your magic. His. Malachi is alive.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” she yelled. “I saw him die!
I felt him die!
”

Leo pointed down the hall. “He’s in the bedroom, Ava. I’m not lying. It’s been killing him not to come to you.”

She shook her head and wiped the tears from her red, angry cheeks. “I’m leaving. Now. You people are crazy. Rhys, let me go.”

“Listen,” Renata commanded. “Listen to him! I can hear his voice, and I’m not even his mate.”

“Ava, please!”

A muffled shout echoed down the hall, and everyone fell silent.

Her heart stopped, and her mind went blank.

It couldn’t be.

She’d finally broken. She’d been expecting it for years. Maybe it had all been an illusion. Some desperate construct of a sick and lonely mind. Her knees buckled and she went limp as Rhys lifted her.

“Take her to him,” Leo said.

“No.” Ava shook her
 
head.

Rhys carried her down the hall. Ava fought the urge to vomit. Her head swam. The crawling feeling came to her skin again, and the dark voices fluttered at the edges of her mind.

“Rhys,” she whispered, eyeing the door with painful dread. “Don’t. Please, let me go.”

“You have to see,” he said. “You have to see it’s real.”

“Don’t. Please don’t.”

They were at the door. Rhys set her down and pushed it open. Ava drew back but could not stop her eyes from peering into the dimly lit room.

A dark figure was pacing in the lamplight, his hands tearing at his hair. He turned to her, and tortured grey eyes met her own.

A ghost. A dream.

“Ava.”

She slammed the door and ran.

Chapter Twenty-one

He shot out of the room. Waiting in the bedroom while she cried had almost broken him. He couldn’t lose her.

“Ava!”

They all got out of his way. He caught up to her before she could make it to the door.
 

“Ava, please!”

“No! No no no no no…” She said it over and over. She closed her eyes when his arms wrapped around her. She shook her head and turned her face away.

“I’m alive.”

“No.”

“It’s me.” He buried his face in her neck, inhaling the sweet smell of her skin. She was shivering, but her mating marks glowed against his. Gold on silver. Shining as he held her back from bolting to the door.

“You’re dead,” she whispered. “I felt it. I can’t—”

“I’m not dead. I came back.”

There was nothing from her but a sob. The tears leaked from her closed eyes, and he sank to the ground with Ava in his arms.

“I came back to you,” he whispered, his lips pressed to her temple. “
Vashama canem, reshon
. I heard you. It was the only thing I heard.”

She had stopped struggling, but her eyes were still closed.
 

“Look at me, Ava.”

She shook her head.

“You think you’re crazy, don’t you?”

She nodded, still silent.

“You’re not crazy.” Malachi forced his voice to harden, even as he held her as softly as he could. “Ava, look at me.”

Her head did not lift.

“Look at your mate.”

He felt her shoulders begin to soften. And the fists he gripped in his hands tentatively turned their palms to his.

“I saw you in the spice market,” he began, thinking back to the dreams he thought had only been illusions. The flickers of memory his mind had recovered. “It smelled of cloves and honey.”

Her head lifted a little.

“And you were carrying an old leather case. I followed you because… you fascinated me.”

She finally opened her eyes but didn’t look directly at him. Their friends stood, surrounding them, holding their collective breath, but Malachi pretended they weren’t even there.

He leaned down to her ear and whispered, “I met you in the forest. I found you, and I picked you up off the ground. I held you, and I loved you under the stars. You thought they were only dreams. I did, too.”

Ava finally turned to him, her eyes wide and wet with tears.

“I tried to ask you where you were. From the moment I woke, all I have searched for is you.”

She lifted a hand, tentatively touching his jaw. He saw her lips form his name, but no sound escaped.

“I was helpless in the forest. I lost you again, and I thought I would lose my mind.”

“This is real?”

He nodded.

“This is
real
?” she asked again, her voice rising. Her other hand joined the first, touching his face. Tracing his lips, then moving down his body. She turned in his arms, but her hands never left his face. His neck. His shoulders.

“It’s me, Ava.”

She laughed once. Sharp. Painful to his ears. Then she buried her face in his neck and inhaled. “Your smell,” she said, her lips pressed against his neck as his arms tightened around her. “It’s you. I smelled you on Leo’s shirt, and I thought—”

“It’s me, Ava. I promise. It’s not a trick.”

“It’s… impossible!”

“I know.”

She burst into tears again, but this time he heard relief, not panic. He felt their friends relax, and he saw Damien pull Sari into an embrace.
 

“It’s not possible,” she said again, sniffling.

“I know it’s not. It just… is.”

She picked her head up, narrowed her eyes on him, then leaned forward, shocking him when her lips met his.

It was everything. So much more than the liquid quality of their dreams, Ava’s lips were heat and life. His mouth opened to her tongue as she forced her way inside. Tasting him. Drawing back to bite the edge of his lip as he groaned in pleasure. He buried his hands in her hair, pressing her closer. Their teeth clashed. She drew back, only to have him pull her forward again.
 

He could live on the taste of her tongue in his mouth. The reality of her. The bitter edge of coffee and the salt of tears. And the taste of her.
Her
. It was no dream. She was real beneath his hands. Her flesh gave, and the sharp crescents of her fingernails dug into his shoulders.

Malachi heard murmuring around them, but he ignored it.

Ava finally pulled back, her lips swollen and red. Her eyes wide. “It’s really you.”

“Would you like to test some more?”

She blinked. “Maybe not while we’re being watched.”

For the first time, Malachi broke into a smile. The relief coursed through him. Ava smiled tentatively, lifting a hand to touch the lips she’d just kissed.

He closed his eyes at the tender touched and whispered, “Hello, Ava.”

“Hi.”

“I think I’m going to hold off on flying to London for a while.”

He frowned, looking down at her as they sat on the couch and drank coffee with Max and Renata, Sari, Damien, Rhys and Leo. Half of them were sitting on the floor, allowing Ava to stretch out at Malachi’s side. She had her arm around his waist and he had his around her shoulders. They spoke quietly to each other as the others made small talk and pretended not to watch them.

“You were going to London?”

“I was not in a good place a few days ago.”

He frowned. “That dream. I tried so hard to ask you where you were that I frightened you.”

“It didn’t make sense to me. I still thought they were only dreams. How could a dream feel so real? I guess my mind rebelled against it.”

“It still doesn’t feel real, does it?”

She shook her head and turned her face into his shoulder. “No.”

“It’s real. I’m really here.”

“I don’t care. If I’ve finally lost it and this is all a hallucination in the loony bin, I’m just going to go with it.”

“Maybe we both died,” he whispered. “Maybe this is heaven.”

Rhys leaned over and slapped the back of Malachi’s head so hard his teeth rattled. “That feel heavenly, brother?”

Ava fought back a smile and drew her legs up and over his so she was almost sitting in his lap. “Don’t damage my mate, Rhys.” There was the first spark of playfulness in her eyes. “I just got him back.”

Rhys smiled at her, a smile so full of love and relief that Malachi was almost jealous. Almost, but not. It was his lap that Ava sat in. Her skin against his. He could feel the calm energy between them. It would occasionally heat when he flashed to a memory of their dreams, and he wondered when he would be able to have her alone. He needed her. Almost desperately. But hers was the greater shock, and he was wary.

“You’re waiting for me to start crying again, aren’t you?”

He cautiously said, “There was a lot of crying.”

“I’m fine. For now.”

He pressed his cheek to the top of her head. “It was understandable. It was very difficult for me to listen to them try to tell you. We thought it would be best if I didn’t just…”

“Walk up and say, ‘Hey, how’s it going? By the way, I’m not dead’?”

“Your reaction might have been somewhat violent.”

“I don’t think you’re wrong.” She let out a sigh and he felt more of the tension leave her shoulders. “Rhys?”

“Hmm?”

“What now?”

Malachi and Rhys exchanged glances. It was the hardest question to answer, past the mystery of how Ava had managed to call him down from heaven.

“I don’t know, darling,” Rhys said. “We didn’t plan much past this moment. He was a bit of a mess in Turkey.”

“I was fine.” Malachi bristled.

“You didn’t even remember your name,” Leo said from the other side of Ava. “You’ve years to go before your
talesm
are back to normal, and—”

“What?” Ava’s head shot up and clipped the bottom of his chin. “What’s wrong with his
talesm
?”

Would it change how she saw him? Malachi had never felt the loss of his powers more keenly. Was it possible she would no longer find him a worthy mate? He glared at Leo, who did not get the message.

“They
 
disappeared. It was like the day he was born,” Leo told her blithely. “Well, not completely, of course. But not a single spell remained. All his scars are gone, too.”

“What?” He could feel Ava tense in his arms.
 

“Leo,” Rhys started. “Perhaps you should let Malachi—”

“He used to have this great nasty gash across his ribs—I’m sure you noticed it, Ava—and it’s completely gone. Of course, it’s possible that when his memory comes back—”

“Wait, what?”

The whole room fell silent.

Ava turned to him. “What about your memories?”

“I don’t… I can’t—”

“You don’t remember… what? The fight in the cistern?”

He swallowed, trying to pull her closer, but she leaned back, eyes intent. “It’s not just my death, Ava.”

“So… what? What don’t you remember?”

Leo and Rhys had wisely fallen silent, and Malachi felt the weight of the room on him.

“I don’t remember much, Ava. About… anything. My family. My life.”