“But you were afraid of scribes?”
“I was. Kostas wasn’t. He knew what his brothers were—what he was. If he hadn’t had me, I imagine he would have let your brothers kill him long ago. But… he did have me. And the others.”
“He stays alive for them?”
“I think so.” Kyra stared at the swaying palms outside her window. They caught the breeze, waving at her in encouragement. “When Kostas and I thought we were free, he worked so hard. He tied himself in knots just to be…” She looked at Leo. “Like you, I suppose.”
“How?”
“Controlled. Not an animal.”
“I don’t think Grigori are animals.” Leo caught himself. “I don’t think that anymore. Now that I know the truth.”
“But some of them are.” She said it quietly. A truth none of them wanted to face. “Even Kostas did things he hated himself for. He stopped long ago, because he could see how his behavior affected me.”
“You felt it?” Leo’s eyes turned sharp.
“I felt his hunger. The demand of his need.” How could she explain honestly without condemning those she loved? “Imagine your brothers with no mothers. No fathers who cared. Raising themselves with little or no guidance. Would they fight?”
Leo smiled. “Constantly.”
“As my brothers did. As some still do. They take what they want because the Fallen tell them the human world is their plunder. Their birthright. Grigori hunt humans because they can. And because we—all of us—are so desperately hungry.” She felt her cheeks warm. “Not for food. You understand?”
“I understand.” Two spots of red rode his cheeks. “Scribes also feel this hunger, even with the control our talesm give us. It’s why we are stronger when we are mated.”
“So you understand.”
He reached for her hand and took it, enclosing it between his two large palms. Kyra let out a breath. The effect of Leo’s touch was instant.
A torrent of images fell in her mind. Leo with his arms around her during the Battle of Vienna, his presence and touch the only armor against the violence surrounding them. His embrace in Rěkaves and the solid wall of his chest at her back. The kiss in the night market. The thrill and the peace of it. When Leo touched her, the voices stopped. She could hear him, clear and resonant, but his voice sang to her. It was like nothing else she’d heard. She’d hungered after peace for two hundred years. With Leo, she felt it. And she craved it.
“You’re not afraid of me,” Leo said, his lips flushed red. “But you avoid me.”
“I’m not good for you,” she said.
“I don’t believe you.” He pressed her hand to his chest. “I see your heart every time we meet. And your soul is beautiful, Kyra. Why—”
“It’s not about my soul.” The futility of her life enraged her. “I may be able to touch you, Leo, but I am not Irina. I don’t have the magic they do. I don’t have the spells. Don’t you understand?”
“No!” His blue eyes were wide. “I don’t understand. I don’t care about how much magic you have. I try to get close to you, but every time we meet you leave. The minute the crisis passes, I look for you, but you—”
“I’m going to die.” She pulled her hand away. “I may not look like it yet, Leo, but I am old.”
He frowned. “You’re no older than I am.”
“You have no idea.” She shook her head.
“So explain it to me,” Leo said, his voice growing harder. “As far as I know, we are the same age. So explain why that is the reason you keep me at arm’s length when I want to know you more.”
She reached out and ran a finger along one of his tattoos, ignoring the subtle glow her touch created on his skin. It was so beautiful. Everything about him was beautiful. Every dark line was a mark he’d given himself. Each piece of magic on his skin grew from an ancient tradition she had no part in. The Irina may have said they wanted to help her, but not a single one trusted her enough to teach her the spell that would save her life.
“Which one does it?” she asked quietly. She traced a twisting line that led from his right wrist up to the tender skin at the crook of his elbow.
Leo’s voice was rough. “What?”
“Which one prolongs your life?” she asked. She forced her eyes to meet his. “Which one makes you immortal? Which spell makes time stop?”
The dawning realization in his eyes gave her no satisfaction.
“No,” he said.
“I’ve already lived far longer than any other kareshta I’ve known. I should have died decades ago, but Jaron was feeding Kostas and me his energy. Now he’s gone, and—”
“No!” Leo shouted. “I don’t know the Irina spell, but I know the Irin spell. I can draw it on you. If we mated—”
“For life?” She shook her head. “The Irin mate for life, Leo. That’s not fair to you. And I won’t—”
“Why not? I’m the one suggesting it.”
She refused to let the tears come to her eyes. “How would we ever know? How could you ever know if I tied myself to you because of you or because you saved my life? What kind of mate would I be, never knowing if my feelings for you were because—”
“Bullshit.” His lips firmed into a line. “Stop it, Kyra.”
“You think I’m saying… bullshit?”
“I think you’ve had feelings for me from the beginning. Just like I’ve had feelings for you. When we were in Vienna, were you thinking about dying? When I held you and protected you, were you thinking about me giving you my magic so you could live longer?”
“Yes.” She could hardly hear her own voice.
Leo’s eyes widened. “What?”
“Of course I was,” she said. “If you were dying and you wanted to live, what would you be thinking of? If mating with another would save your life, what would you be focused on, Leo?”
He didn’t say a word.
“The kareshta have no power in this world,” she said. “We walk around with a bleeding wound in our mind, at the mercy of the humans and Grigori around us. The Irina spells are a bandage a few of us have been given, but we don’t own it. We don’t own that magic. We don’t have any real power. Do you think every one of the kareshta finding their way to scribe houses and mating with the Irin is looking for true love? They want to live, Leo. They want to be safe. The Irin can make them safe.”
“So it was all about protecting yourself.” His eyes were blank, staring at the cut frangipani on the table. “You let me touch you—hold you—because you wanted me to protect you?”
“Of course I did. Anyone would. I was vulnerable to everything then.”
His eyes narrowed, looked up, and met hers. “And now?”
“What about now?”
“Now, Kyra.” He shifted into her space. “Now, when you’re not as vulnerable. Now, when I touch you. Are you thinking about me giving you my magic?”
Yes. No. “That’s not all, but—”
“When I kissed you at the night market”—his head dipped and his lips hovered over hers—“you were thinking about my longevity spells?”
“No.”
“Were you thinking about finding a protector?”
“No!” She could feel the heat of his lips on her own, but he did not touch her.
“I kissed you because I wanted you more than I’ve ever wanted a woman in my life. Because the thought of tasting you has haunted me for three years.” His breath brushed her when he spoke, but Leo didn’t move the inch forward that would have brought their lips together.
Kyra was frozen in place. “I wanted your kiss.”
“Why?”
“Because I want you.”
His hand reached up, and Leo wove his fingers in Kyra’s hair, letting his wrist sit warmly on the nape of her neck. His lips still hovered over hers.
“How much did you want me?”
Every hair on her body stood at attention. “It was all I could think about. You’re all I can think about. Even when I try to forget you, you
come to my thoughts.”
“That’s how I know.” Leo pressed his hand forward, bringing Kyra’s lips to his own.
Madness and peace.
She sank into his kiss. It was gentler than the last time. Their mouths more familiar with their partner’s. Leo’s lips moved on her with hunger, but also with exquisite control. He drew away. Paused. Changed the angle of his mouth and took hers again. Everything was slow, deliberate, and maddening. She reached up, gripped his shoulders, and kissed him harder.
With a low growl, the dam broke. Leo reached over and hauled Kyra from her cushion onto his lap. He spread her legs and gripped her thighs, settling Kyra over his lap so his hand pressed to the small of her back, welding their bodies together. Her head swam from the searing kisses he pressed along her neck, the scrape of his teeth along her jaw.
Both her hands were on his cheeks. She could feel them, hot and flushed beneath her palms.
And in his touch…
Silence.
There was a low, resonant singing in the back of her mind, but all she could think about—all she could register—was Leo.
His arms hard around her. His lips meeting her own over and over and over. His hand twisted in the thick length of her hair. His massive body, rippling with muscle, between her thighs. She pressed her knees into his sides and he bit her lip.
Leo pulled away from their kiss, but his hands kept Kyra plastered to his chest. “We are going to try this. And it has nothing to do with you needing my magic.”
“What?” She couldn’t pull her eyes from his lips. They were flushed and full. She wanted to bite them and leave a mark.
“I understand everything you told me,” Leo said, “and I’m making the decision to see what we might be together. Do you agree?”
“Yes.”
He nipped her chin. “Don’t try to make decisions for me again, Kyra. I may be inexperienced in some areas, but I’m not a boy.”
She froze. “I didn’t think you were a boy.”
“When you decided that we couldn’t be together because I would never know your true intentions regarding my magic, you treated me like a boy.”
“That’s not what I meant to do, Leo.” She brushed a hand along his temple. “That’s not what I wanted.”
“I know when a woman wants me.” His lips trailed down to her collarbone. “I see her lips flush. I see her eyes get hazy. Your heart”—he tasted the rapid pulse in her neck—“pounds when I’m nearby. It has nothing to do with my magic.”
That depends on what magic you’re talking about. Kyra’s eyes rolled back when she felt him lick the delicate indent between her collarbones. Leo lapped at it, nuzzling kisses into the curve of her neck.
“What are you thinking of right now?” he whispered.
“You.” Her hands twisted in his hair. “Just… you.”
“Do you want me?”
She wanted him like it was a madness. Kyra had never experienced this kind of pleasure before. She couldn’t even speak. She nodded, and Leo pressed his cheek against hers; she loved the rough texture of his stubble against her skin. Every nerve was on fire.
“I want you so much,” he whispered. “But I don’t want to rush.”
“Okay.”
“Have you ever…?”
She felt her cheeks flame. “No. Any kind of contact was too overwhelming.”
“Mine?” His voice was sharp with concern.
She closed her eyes, dipped her head, and ran her lips along the column of muscle in his neck. “Your touch brings me nothing but pleasure.”
“Good.” Leo’s shoulders relaxed. His hands drifted from the small of her back down to the top of her buttocks, caressing her over her thin dress.
Kyra shivered. The sensation was thrilling, but his iron-clad control soothed any nerves that threatened to riot. She felt utterly safe with Leo.
And nearly out of her skin with excitement.
“Do you want to try, Kyra?” Leo kept one hand caressing her bottom and the other reached up to cup her cheek. “I need to hear you, because the minute your brothers hear about this, they’re probably going to try to assassinate me.”
Kyra’s eyes went wide. She tried to pull back, but Leo wouldn’t let her.
“Which is fine,” he added. “I’m not worried about them as long as you are willing.”
She nodded.
“Speak.” He smiled a little. “I need to hear the words.”
“Yes.” She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I want to try.”
“And you’re not going to run away without talking to me?”
She smiled. “No.”
“And you’re going to give me your phone number? The correct one, not a burner? Maybe even share your e-mail address?”
Her face was flaming. She ducked and pressed her face into his neck as he laughed.
“Yes?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Good.” He continued caressing her over her dress. His hands were large and warm. His fingers were teasing. He trailed them over her shoulders where her sundress bared her skin. “This is all new to me too.”
“Oh?” Kyra kept her eyes closed and her head on Leo’s shoulder, luxuriating in his touch. When she sat on his lap, his height wasn’t quite so intimidating. “You seem… far more comfortable doing all this.”
“I’ve been thinking about it”—he leaned back, taking her with him so Kyra was draped over his chest—“for a long time.”
“Waiting for the right Irina?” Kyra asked.
He said nothing, but his mind whispered to her, words so jumbled she couldn’t discern where his thoughts ended and hers began.
Kyra sat up so she could see his expression. His gaze was tender. Painfully open.
“I think I was waiting for you,” he said. His words, like so much of that day, were both thrilling and terrifying. But his smile was sweet and crooked. “I think you’re going to need some time to get used to that idea.”
“Leo—”
“That’s fine,” he said. “I have time.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “And you will too. I promise.”
Kyra’s doubt must have shown in her eyes, because Leo continued.
“So many thoughts going on behind those beautiful eyes. Why won’t you tell me?”
“I don’t want to hurt you. Or dismiss your feelings.”
“But?”
“You don’t know me,” she said. “Not really.”
He paused before he spoke. “You’re partly right. I don’t know many things about you. But I know your heart for your sisters. Your dedication to your family. You intelligence and your talent.” He drew her to his side and settled her in the crook of his arm. “I know that you’re fierce even when you’re afraid. That you protect those who are weaker than you even if it means sacrificing your own desires.”
“You make me sound like a warrior.”
“If there’s one major failing of Irin men,” Leo said, “it’s that we don’t recognize a truth our women have been trying to teach us for centuries: there are many different kinds of war. And many different kinds of warriors.”
“But you’re smarter than the average Irin man, I assume?”
“Oh, far smarter.” He kissed the top of her head. “Which I will be happy to demonstrate in the future.”
She tried to hide her smile but couldn’t. “So generous.”
“Another of my many fine qualities.”
Kyra enjoyed the feeling of Leo’s rumbling laughter in his chest. She also liked feeling tucked under his arm, but she didn’t know what to do with her arms. Leo solved the problem by grabbing her hand and draping her arm across his hard abdomen. She could feel the layer of muscle under his shirt and wondered if Leo would allow her to touch it. She wanted to press her fingers into that muscle to see if it was as hard as it felt. She wanted her mouth on it too. Wanted her lips to feel the line of hair that ran below his belly button. She’d seen him with his shirt off, but now she had the driving
urge to feel, to taste, to touch everything.
Then Kyra saw the rather large bulge in Leo’s pants just below his waistband and decided to ask to touch his abdominal muscles at a later time. Secretly, she was excited to see his arousal. For the first time in her life, a man’s desire didn’t feel threatening or impersonal. Leo had said he liked her. Not just her appearance. His soul voice gave her no indication he was lying. If Leo was an honest person, Kyra needed to believe him.
Leo had picked up a book that was sitting in the corner. It was a bird-watching book, though she hadn’t seen many birds in Thailand so far.
“Do you like books?” she asked.
“I do. I like audiobooks especially. When I’m training or driving, I often listen to them.” He craned his neck and saw the stack of books by her bed. “I see you are a reader.”
“Yes.” He hadn’t asked, but she decided to offer some information anyway. “For most of my life—before I learned to block my mind—books were my best friends. I could listen to them and only hear what they wanted to tell me, not another voice behind it.”
Leo’s arm around her tightened, and she wondered if there was something he didn’t like about the story. Perhaps she shouldn’t have offered so much information when he hadn’t asked.
“Yes, I like books,” she said quietly.
“I’m glad you had them,” Leo said. “Tell me something else.”
“Like what?”
“Like everything.”
Prija II
“He went right into her cottage!” Intira was almost jumping up and down. “He is so bold. Are all foreigners so bold?”
Prija raised an eyebrow and examined the loom where Bun Ma was teaching Intira to weave.
“I like him. He’s funny.”
He wasn’t funny. Or that wasn’t why she liked him. Intira was bright and curious. She hungered for new sights, new experiences, new people. She’d been bubbling over with news of the night market for days. She’d been talking about the people and the music. She couldn’t believe how many different-colored dresses there were and how many foreigners. She’d be talking about the Irin scribe for a year if he stayed a day.
Intira stared out the window. “What do you think they’re doing? Should we go over and say hello? He looked mad. But not mad.”