Page 112 of The Scribe (Irin Chronicles 1)

Chapter Twenty

The Antea Hotel sat on the corner of the Piyerloti Caddesi, just at the end of a quiet string of hotels. A few hundred meters from the tourist center, the old street was sheltered by tall trees and staid municipal buildings. A quiet street in the Sultanahmet, but still central enough to the main thoroughfare, it was the perfect place to store an emergency vehicle.

Malachi held Ava’s hand as they crossed the intersection, passing the empty cistern and the fountain in the center of the square. Pigeons startled from the sidewalk, but no other pedestrians interrupted them as they made their way into the lobby.

The young woman at the front desk eyed Malachi, causing an unexpected flair of possessiveness in Ava that caught her by surprise. Since the night before, she’d been on edge, bristling with borrowed energy and heightened senses. The passing cars distracted her. The lights were too bright. But her voices, thankfully, had become easier to ignore. The only one she heard clearly was Malachi.

“Good afternoon, sir,” the woman said in perfect British English. “How may I help you?”

Malachi lowered his voice and switched to Turkish as Ava took in the gold-accented lobby. It wasn’t the fanciest hotel she’d seen, but it was clean and bright. The ground floor was quiet.

Almost too quiet.

Instincts pricked when Malachi took her hand and led her out toward the sidewalk.

“The car is here, but she said our package hasn’t arrived yet. She suggested waiting in their restaurant, but I’d rather be out here.”

“Me too.” Ava looked around at the peaceful street that suddenly seemed ominous. “I don’t like it here.”

He frowned and smoothed a hand over her cheek. “What do you hear?”

“Nothing specific.”

“Then we have to—”

“Not enough,” she said in a low voice. “It’s too quiet. Where are the other guests? There aren’t even any tourists around here.”

“It’s the middle of the week,canim. I think you may be overreacting.” He raised a hand when she opened her mouth. “Which is completely normal considering your new senses.”

She shook her head but couldn’t find anything to argue with in his reasoning. He was probably right.

Since the mating ritual, Ava had been flooded with power. She was stronger. Quicker. She healed faster. She’d deliberately taken a knife to her forearm that afternoon while Malachi had been napping, just to see what would happen. The cut she’d made on her forearm had healed within minutes.

He was stroking her hair, leading them to the bench by the locked cistern. Ava looked at the sign announcing the renovations. It was in Turkish, but she could see the future plans for the new tourist attraction around the historic site.

“Did you get the car keys?” she asked when they’d sat.

“Yes. She said the messenger already called to say he’d be late. She said he’d probably arrive in the next half an hour.”

“And Damien? Max?”

“Headed over to the rug shop right now. We’ll call them once we get on the highway.”

Ava nodded, a sense of unease still heavy in her belly.

“It’s fine,reshon. Everything will be fine.”

Malachi watched her,wondering what had happened to the confident, fearless woman he loved. Since the night before, she was jumpy. A cloud seemed to hang over her shoulders. Was she truly that worried, or was their new intimacy making him more aware of her moods?

It wasn’t uncommon for Irin mated for years to be almost telepathic with each other. Though they couldn’t speak to each other’s minds, the awareness of mood was hard to ignore. He’d know when she was angry or happy. Upset. Worried. He felt them all now as her emotions flooded the magic he’d given her. It was both intoxicating and distracting, and for the first time, he wondered whether the ritual had been the right thing to do.

Too late to second-guess himself.

Malachi watched the front of the hotel as two men exited. They looked up and down the street, then sauntered off in the direction of the Sultanahmet tram station. A few minutes later, a couple entered the hotel from the opposite side. Normal traffic on a quiet afternoon.

And still Ava sat, a silent knot of tension at his side.

“Tell me a story,” she finally said.

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