Page 77 of The Scribe (Irin Chronicles 1)

“There was an Irina… before the Rending, there was someone. We were planning on a union. Our families liked each other. We liked each other very much. We were very compatible. And yes, we had been together. But she broke it off.”

“What?” She picked her head up and frowned. “Don’t tell me you weren’t good enough for her. That’s ridiculous.”

He shook his head, smiling at her annoyance that another had found him lacking. It made him want to crow with pride. “No. She found herreshon. Her true mate.”

“Reshon?”

He nodded slowly, sliding his hands down to lie along her waist. Ava was extraordinary. He could already feel her energy mounting—even away from humans in the isolation of the scribe house, she shone.

“It doesn’t always happen, but it’s something we all hope for. She found herreshon, so I let her go. It would have been foolish to continue courting her when her heart had already left.”

“That cheating—”

He covered her mouth with his own. When he drew back, her eyes were blinking with languor again, and the irritation had fled. “It wasn’t like that. It hurt her to break off our relationship, because she did care for me. But I did not fight it, even though it pained me, too. Areshonis a blessing. Your destiny in another person. The perfect complement to yourself. Not everyone finds areshon, but those who do are considered doubly blessed. And very, very powerful.”

“Why?” Her gaze fell to his chest again, and Malachi wondered what she would ask him to create there. The mating mark was dictated by the Irina, a visible expression of her mate’s dedication and love. She traced the smooth bare skin and said, “Why more powerful?”

“Imagine…” He drew her up so they were face-to-face on the narrow bed. “Imagine a person created for you. Another being so in tune with you that their voice is the clearest you’ve ever heard in your mind.” He saw her eyes widen, so he looked away and trailed a finger over her shoulder. “Her touch sharpens your senses. Her lips…” He pressed a light kiss to her open mouth. “…feed your soul. A bond like that strengthens both. One magic feeds the other. Within it, Irin and Irina become who we are meant to be.”

Malachi could feel Ava’s hands tighten on his shoulders. Knew she was quietly absorbing the words he’d said. He didn’t want to push her. He knew she was hisreshon. Looking back, it had been evident from their first kiss. But he was heeding his watcher’s advice in another way. He could give her time. He would let Ava come to the knowledge herself. Patience. He would seduce her body and mind until her soul compelled her to accept him. It would be his most pleasurable hunt ever.

“What are you smiling about?” Ava teased him, snuggling into his chest. “You look like the cat who ate the cream.”

His laugh was low and satisfied. “I’m quite sure that I did. More than once.”

Malachi laughed again when she elbowed his side, then he pulled her close and said, “Sleep, Ava. Rest with me.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt this exhausted.”

“Sleep,” he whispered. “I will see you in your dreams.”

When he dreamed,it was of her. A shadow he chased through a dark wood. She eluded him for a time, but eventually a faint outline walked to him out of a fog. He could not see her face, but when her lips touched his, he knew her. And she was his.

He blinked awake.Ava was still sleeping next to him, boneless in her exhaustion. Malachi slipped out of the narrow bed, wishing he had someplace more private to take her. The newly awakened magic did not want to share its mate. And though his room in the scribe house was one of the most isolated, it still lacked the privacy he craved.

He threw on some clothes and left the room, needing some water. Ava, too, would be hungry when she woke. Her metabolism, which was typically fast, would probably wake her with hunger before long. Though expending energy during sex was one of the most effective ways to calm her, it was also draining. They couldn’t stay in his room forever.

Not that the idea wasn’t appealing.

He ran into Rhys halfway to the kitchens. The other man backed away for a moment, then seeing Malachi’s expression, relaxed.

“I was wondering whether you were going to hit me or not,” he said. “But you’ve obviously found another way of marking your territory.”

Malachi grunted and crossed his arms. “If she’d been more complimentary about you, I’d be more offended.”

“I’m letting that pass since you’re in a postcoital haze.”

“Ava is myreshon.”

Rhys was speechless for a few moments, instinctive rebellion evident in his eyes. But finally he said, “Of course she is. I probably knew that before you did, you idiot. Does she know what it means?”

“Not completely. She’s smart. She’ll figure it out.”

Rhys fell silent again. “She’s not had an easy time of things, brother. Her relationships, from what I can tell, have been… difficult. She may fight it.”

Malachi’s lips curled. “She won’t win.”

“If you expect me to bet against fate, you’re wrong.” A shadow of sorrow passed over Rhys’s face. Then the expression cleared and his acerbic wit resurfaced. “Heaven, you’re going to be more insufferable than Damien when Sari agrees to see him. I swear, you even look taller.”

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