Ava’s sleepy voice stopped him. “Babe?”
“I’m going to the Library, canım.”
She burrowed farther. “So early. Wanted to talk to you about…”
“Ava?” He smiled when he realized she’d drifted back to sleep.
“I’m awake. Kinda. Funny dream. Why so early?”
“We have to go through the cleansing ritual first.”
“Explain later, okay?
“I will.” He brushed a kiss over her temple, then started toward the door. “You’re with Sari today?”
“Mmhmm. Love you. See you tonight. I’ll tell you then, okay?”
“Okay.”
Malachi closed the door softly and paused, his palm pressed to the wood.
It was a little thing. The sleepy greeting. The recitation of the day’s activities and the kiss good-bye.
Love you. See you tonight.
A simple thing. Infinitely precious.
And precarious.
Even with his memories returning, his world had never felt more uncertain. Fallen angels played with mortal lives as if they were pawns on a chess board, and an insidious threat lived in his mate’s own blood.
Volund could find her anywhere.
Malachi hadn’t had another dream since Italy. He was half-convinced they’d been nightmares of his own making. He hadn’t told Ava. Every time he decided to share it with her, it seemed another problem or revelation came their way.
He leaned his head against the doorway and fervently prayed for the privilege of years. Years he’d be able to kiss her good-bye and come home to her at night. A lifetime of routines they would build. Everyday intimacies they would share.
Please.
Is a thousand years too much to ask?
For now… give me one.
His soul cried the unspeakable name of the one who had returned him to the mortal plane. He felt the yearning pull at his chest as the door opened. Then she was there, pressing a kiss over his heart. She leaned her forehead against his collar, wrapped her arms around his waist. She said nothing, but he knew she’d heard his voice. Her touch bolstered him; he grew taller under her small hands.
“I could hear you,” she said. “Woke me up.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
“I love you.” He squeezed her tightly. “I’ll see you tonight.”
“I’ll be here.”
She stepped away from him and took a deep breath. “Coffee?”
“I’ll get some with Damien on our way. I think he’s probably waiting.”
“Okay.” She smiled, then cocked her head toward the door. “Really?”
“What?”
“You can’t hear him?” She unlocked the hallway door and cracked it open, only to see the black cat from the other day slip in. He went to the kitchen and hopped up on the window ledge, staring out into the street.
Malachi shook his head. “We’re not keeping him.”
“That’s so weird. Why would his owner even let him out so early? He doesn’t look like a stray.” She yawned and went to the kettle to heat water.
“Getting a cat through quarantine is a nightmare. If you truly want one, we’ll find one when we get home.”
“It’s fine, babe. I won’t get attached.”
The “babe” thing she’d started had annoyed him at first, considering he was roughly three hundred and seventy-five years older than she was. Then… it didn’t. It was Ava. His human-Irina-Grigora mate who called him ridiculous things like “babe” and said the word “dude” in actual conversation.
Maybe it was a California thing. He didn’t care.
Heading toward the door with a smile, he called out, “I’ll see you tonight.”
“I’ll… cook meatloaf or something.”
Malachi turned. “Really?”
“No.” She snickered. “I have no idea how to cook meatloaf.”
“Chinese takeout it is.”
“As much as I travel, Chinese takeout is my comfort food.”
His eyes fixed on her.
“You have to go,” she whispered.
“I don’t want to.”
A shy smile teased her lips. The cat growled at the window, pawing it before he looked over his shoulder.
“Go,” Ava said. “The cat says Damien is here. Call me when you’re done at the Library.”
“The cat does not know that Damien is here.” Still, he kissed her and walked out the door before he lingered any longer, walking down the stairs to find Damien waiting on the street, his breath frosting in the morning air.
He was looking up to the window of their flat. “Did you get a cat?”
“We’re not keeping the cat.”
“Huh. Coffee?”
“Please.”
HE’D sated his craving for coffee, but Malachi’s stomach was rumbling. He should have eaten a bigger meal the night before.
Hunger would have to wait. Liquids were permitted before the cleansing ritual but not food. The satchel over his shoulder held the linen wrap he’d wear, along with his ceremonial robe. They had both been in storage in Istanbul. Rhys had retrieved them before he came to the city. While scribe houses were more informal, Vienna was not. If he and Damien were to be permitted entrance to the Library, they would have to visit the cleansing rooms attached and enter in ceremonial garb.
“You’ve been doing this every day?” he asked his watcher.