Page 24 of The Scribe (Irin Chronicles 1)

“You have been more at ease than when we first met.” He kept the question light. “Is your doctor helping?”

“Yes, he is.”

“That’s good.”

She forced herself to turn and smiled. “I’m optimistic. Istanbul might just become my favorite city.”

“Because of the doctor?”

They kept walking, strolling farther through the cisterns. Ava paused at the edge of a tour group, but the guide was speaking German.

“Partly. But I think the attraction was here even before I met him. There’s just something about this place, you know?”

“I don’t know, I—”

She interrupted him with a laugh. “You’re from here, so you probably don’t really get that. I mean, I know people love L.A. Love Hollywood, but it never seemed all that special to me because I grew up there. Istanbul is probably that way for you.”

“No.”

He had stopped behind her. Ava turned to him. “No?”

“I understand. It’s part of the reason I came back. This city… It feeds the soul.”

A strange fluttering started in her chest. “I didn’t know my soul was hungry.”

“Didn’t you?” He smiled. “Hmm.”

“Oh, Malachi…” Ava turned and pretended to read a sign. “The things you say in a single ‘hmm.’”

She felt him step closer. Could feel her body react. His lips were sealed, but his voice whispered to her. Taunting, teasing whispers that begged her to come closer. She turned her head, and her heart raced as his eyes dropped to her mouth. He leaned down, parting his lips as if to speak, but before he could say anything, a child bumped into Ava from behind, giggling as she sent Ava stumbling into Malachi’s chest.

He caught her elbows, and she heard him suck in a breath.

There was a flash of awareness. A sense and a silence. In that second, his pure voice was the only thing she heard, and the sense of harmony threatened to overwhelm her. Ava gasped.

She needed.

Wanted.

Needed.

Utter and complete peace enveloped her for a brief moment, then it was gone when Malachi dropped his hands. Eyes blinking, he backed away, and she let out the breath she held. Once again, the voices wrapped around her, muffled—like a distant chorus they circled and taunted her.

For a second, they had been gone. Completely gone.

And his voice was the only thing she’d heard.

“Malachi?”

“Hmm?” His face was an impenetrable mask, half-cloaked in darkness.

“I…” What was she going to say?

Touch me.

Hold my hand.

Can you make them go away?

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