Page 107 of The Scribe (Irin Chronicles 1)

“Right now.”

“Your… mate?” She still hesitated at the word, but Malachi smiled.

“Yes.”

“Forever?”

He looked up. “Forever. No turning away until death parts us.”

A tentative smile crossed her lips. “I thought you guys were immortal.”

He kissed her. “We’re all immortal, Ava, as long as our stories are told.” A small frown creased between her eyebrows, so he kissed her again. “Say yes.”

“Yes.”

“Yes?” He smiled.

“Yes,reshon.” She placed her hands on his cheeks, stroking them despite the rasp of stubble. “You’re mine. I knew it weeks ago. So yes.”

Desire roared to life, but Malachi clamped down on it and said, “Take off your clothes. All of them.”

“Every stitch?” The teasing light came back.

“Every. Single. Stitch.” He pulled back the cover and reached for the jar of dye.

“What is that?” she asked as she pulled off her underthings.

“Henna dye. It’s actually what we’ve always used, but I apologize for the brush.” He shook up the dye and then uncapped it, dipping the rough brush into the jar before he looked up. “It should be much nicer than this.”

“What do I do?” she asked, her voice tentative in the silence.

“Turn around,” Malachi said. “Hold still. And let me mark you.”

Ava pulled up her legs and turned her back to him. Malachi sat on the edge of the bed and took a deep breath. He’d dreamed of this moment for hundreds of years. Granted, the surroundings were usually a little more luxurious, but the sight before him…

Ava’s smooth back, pale and glowing in the lamplight. The fine bones of her spine guiding him from the base of her skull to the swell of her buttocks. She was more than he’d dreamt. More than he deserved.

Malachi leaned forward, whispering the ancient vows against her skin, and his breath cast a golden glow as the magic took hold. He lifted the brush and began.

He wrote the spells across her body, the dye taking hold as the magic did. And though the henna would fade with time, the magic would remain, imbued in her skin. Protecting her. Strengthening her. For the rest of her life, his words would mark her. He took care as he wrote, hundreds of years of practice suddenly making sense. Countless hours of instruction. No mistakes were allowed in this; it was the most importanttalesmhe would ever scribe.

Protective spells formed down her back. Whispered aloud as he felt the magic leave his body and enter hers. His lips trailed after his brush, kissing along her backbone as her heart raced beneath his mouth.

“Is it…” She arched her back when she felt the brush trail low. “Is it supposed to feel like this?”

He couldn’t stop the smile of satisfaction. “This is the ritual performed on the mating night. Does it please you?”

She gasped as the brush moved over the base of her spine. She said, “That would be a yes.”

Ava’s scent bloomed and Malachi had to pause, breathing deeply as his forehead rested on her shoulder. “Reshon. Ava…”

“Keep going,” she said, desire lacing her voice. “Don’t stop.”

Minutes turned to hours. She turned when he told her, baring the front of her body when her back and neck were covered with spells.

The spells for longevity were next, arching along her fine collarbone. Malachi groaned when he saw the golden flush across her throat. Her breasts. Her belly. The brush dipped and traced over and over, the ink darkening and drying as the magic glowed beneath it. She appeared lit from within. He bent his head and let his mouth suckle her breast, giving in to the arousal that had become almost unbearable.

She moaned and leaned back. “Malachi?”

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