Ava rubbed circles over her temple. He wondered if a headache was building. She still looked confused, and Malachi was angry for her. To have your mind violated was a terrible thing. He’d never felt as helpless as he had when he’d lost his memories.
Convicted by the guilt in his mate’s face, Malachi knew he had to confess his own omission, even though he’d been pushing it to the back of his mind for weeks.
“I’m so sorry, Malachi. I don’t… I don’t know how I forgot. It’s just, my dreams are never clear and there’s been so much—”
“Ava.”
“What?”
He took a deep breath and spoke quickly. “I may have seen Volund in dreams. I didn’t know what to think. Part of me thought they were only nightmares. But now I don’t think they were.”
Her mouth dropped. “What? How long?”
Malachi shook his head. “Weeks. I haven’t seen him since Italy. He told me he couldn’t get to you but he could get to me.”
He could see her irritation spike.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, unable to hide the anger in her voice. “You’re angry at me, while you—”
“I didn’t know if it was real or imagined. Not for sure. Why would I worry you if I wasn’t certain? You were dreaming about Death and didn’t tell me.”
“His name is Azril.”
“Oh, I’m so glad you’re friends now. He’s the angel of death, Ava. And I’m not going to apologize for trying to protect you.”
“So typical! You try to shield me from worry as if I can’t handle it. As if I’m still the grieving widow you found in Oslo—”
“I had no way of knowing they weren’t just nightmares.”
“You still should have told me. Even if you did think they were nightmares.”
“Why, so you could worry too?”
“You really don’t get this whole ‘sharing the burdens’ thing, do you?”
“Am I supposed to ignore my instinct to protect you?”
“No, but you’re not supposed to protect me from you!”
It stopped him short, because it was exactly what he was doing. Malachi was protecting Ava from his own terror. His own fear. Because he didn’t want her to know he felt weak.
“I’m sorry.” He went to her and enclosed her in his arms. “I’m sorry, Ava. I didn’t think—didn’t realize. You’re right.”
She didn’t offer any smart remarks, but she didn’t return the hug, either.
“Forgive me?” he asked. “For doubting you.”
Her shoulders relaxed and she hugged him back. “Only if you forgive me for being forgetful.”
He huffed out a breath. “Why are we fighting about this?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then enough. I suspect Volund was trying to torment me since he couldn’t get to you. But he wasn’t able to hurt me in any way.”
“And I don’t know what Azril wants, but I’m pretty sure he’s on our side.”
Malachi’s mouth opened, then closed. He finally said, “I’m honestly not sure what to do with that.”
“Me either.” She took a deep breath and stepped back. “Should we tell Damien?”
“Yes. About both of us.” He walked toward the kitchen, bracing himself in the doorway. “He might be furious we’re just telling him now.”
“He’s not the boss of me.”
Malachi gave her a wry smile over his shoulder. “Well, he is of me. Nevertheless, with the schedule we’ve been keeping, he can hardly blame us for not remembering every dream we have.”
“I’m sorry.” Ava wrapped her arms around his waist from behind, pressing her cheek to his back. “I would never keep something from you if I thought it could help.”
He put his hands over hers. “I know. And I have to remember, you’re a woman who is accustomed to keeping her own secrets. I can’t expect you to change that overnight just because you’re mated to me. I’ve been part of a team for centuries. And Azril tampered with your mind. If anyone should have sympathy for that, it’s me.”
She squeezed his waist. “You’re right. You’re being such a jerk right now.”
The laugh burst out of him. He pulled her around to the front and hugged her. “We’re still new at this, aren’t we?”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t worry.” He kissed the top of her head before he released her and walked to the phone. “We have hundreds of years to get it right.”
Hundreds of years. He had to believe it. The Creator wouldn’t have brought them together again just to rip them back apart.
Would He?
MALACHI lingered in bed the next morning as long as he could, knowing that it might be days before he would have Ava to himself again. They made love quietly. Deliberately. He memorized her face in the morning light and whispered promises that he would see her soon.
“Soon,” she whispered back.
Then she hid under the covers while Malachi slipped out the door, and he pretended he hadn’t seen her tears.
Today was the day he would break all the rules.
He was bringing a Grigori into the sacred house, sneaking him into the halls of knowledge, and stealing ancient weapons from Mikhael’s armory.
If his mother were alive, she would kill him. Or congratulate him. He wasn’t sure which.