Page 48 of The Scribe (Irin Chronicles 1)

“Holy shit, you all have them. Just like the men in the book.”

The giant threw up his arms and yelled, “I can’t believe you showed her one of the books, too!”

Malachi said, “Damien, she has to know.”

“Does secrecy mean nothing to you? Does the safety of our race—”

“She’s part of it!”

“She can’t be! We’ve searched the records. We know where she was born. We know who her mother is. There is no trace of—”

“Forget the records and look at her!” Malachi strode over to Ava, who stepped back. He slowed and held up his hands. “Please, Ava. I have to show them.”

She gulped. “Show them what?”

“What are you doing?” The green-eyed man’s voice was concerned. “Malachi, you mustn’t—”

“Trust me,” Malachi whispered, meeting her eyes. Ava felt instantly secure, warm and safe, despite the strangers surrounding her. Their inner voices, all alive since she’d walked into the room, were practically shouting now. “I won’t hurt you.”

“I know,” she said. “I know you won’t.”

The green-eyed man rose to his feet as his hands reached out. “Malachi!”

Malachi stepped behind her, wrapping one arm around her waist as the giant named Damien yelled, “No!” He lunged toward Ava and Malachi, but before he could reach them, he halted, and his eyes went wide with shock.

She felt Malachi’s finger trace along her collarbone and she shivered at the sensation. His finger moved up and down along her exposed skin. Was he writing? Her eyes were glued to the reactions of the men around her. Damien, who had been lunging toward them, fell to his knees, suddenly staring up at Ava with a wild expression of awe. The green-eyed man was just as shocked, his mouth frozen in anO. Leo and the other blond man grinned in the corner, expressions of sheer joy across both of their faces.

“You see?” Malachi pleaded. “It’s true. She does not faint at my touch.”

She might not faint, but swooning was a definite possibility if he kept drawing on her skin like that. It felt amazing and oddly intimate. She blushed furiously, aware of all the eyes on them as Malachi held her.

“Malachi, you have to…” She tried to push his arm away, but he wouldn’t let go of her. He did, however, stop writing on her skin. She felt his mouth at her ear.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

“It’s fine,” she whispered as his hand moved down her arm again. She glanced down to see his heavily marked forearm still around her waist, holding her up. His other arm lay against hers, and his finger was trailing… She blinked rapidly. “Holy shit, there are gold letters all over my arm.”

Then everything went black.

When she wokeup this time, afternoon sun shone on the red roofs outside the window, and Malachi sat on the edge of the bed, a cool washcloth pressed to her forehead. In the chair by the desk, Damien also sat, unabashedly staring. Ava pushed Malachi’s hand away and sat up.

“What happened?”

“You fainted.” Malachi smiled. “And Damien was convinced that I’d killed you until I picked you up and showed him how deeply you were breathing. Are you all right?”

“Why would you have killed me? And where am I?”

Damien spoke from the corner. “You are in the Irin scribe house of Istanbul, Ava Matheson. And my brother’s touch would have eventually killed you… if you were human. But you’re not entirely human, are you?”

She blinked and rubbed her eyes. “What are you talking about? Of course I’m human.” She turned to Malachi. “And so are…”

You…?

She couldn’t say it, because in that moment, Ava knew it wasn’t true. Not entirely. The book. The strange tattoos. The language.

“Are you people aliens?” she whispered.

Malachi burst out laughing, and Damien rolled his eyes.

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