The Singer - Page 29

“No. Even now, if they came out of hiding, they would be punished by the council, so it’s not worth it to them to try to reenter Irin society. They’d rather remain with their mates.” Astrid’s eyes glanced toward the window again, and Ava got the distinct impression that more than one of the males she’d seen was a fugitive.

“But not everyone joined their mate,” she said, thinking of Damien and Sari. “Some of the Irina here, they have mates in the outside world, don’t they?”

Astrid nodded as she sat. “Yes. Some do. There are three Irina here who have mates who fight in houses away from here.”

Ava couldn’t imagine Malachi being in the world and not being with her. “How do they… I mean, don’t they need—”

“Contact?” Astrid smiled a little. “Of course they do. Emotionally. Even biologically, Irin and Irina need physical contact. Mates dream walk, of course, but the mated Irina here often leave.”

“And Sari lets them?”

Astrid smiled. “We’re not stuck here. We can go anytime we want. Most of the women with mates meet them when they can get away. They go to the city for a while, or places in the country where they can be alone.”

“And children?”

Astrid shrugged. “I’m sure a scribe would be given leave if his mate was pregnant. Children are rare for us, and Irin men seldom leave their women alone when they are pregnant.”

“So how does nobody know where this place is?”

“Orsala.”

“Who’s Orsala?” Ava asked. “And… does she have tentacles and a great singing voice?”

Astrid threw her head back and laughed. “Singing voice? Yes. Tentacles, no. Orsala is Sari’s grandmother. She’s very old. The oldest singer I know. She’s letting herself age now because her mate was killed during the Rending. But she’s still with us. And Orsala is the one who’ll talk to you before you leave. After you talk to Orsala, Volund himself couldn’t make you give up the name of this place.”

She felt a shiver creep up her spine. “Magic?”

“Strong magic.”

Ava fell exhaustedinto bed that night, hoping to lose herself in dreams. She suspected she was sleeping too much—and had spoken to enough psychologists to recognize the symptoms of depression—but something drew her. Some instinct tugged her to darkness and rest. She huddled under the thick down blankets and closed her eyes.

She wandered through the forest,but she no longer wept. She waited. He’d said he would be there, and she knew he would come.

“Reshon.”

She turned toward his voice, smiling. “You’re here.”

“I told you I would be.” He approached cautiously, one hand lifting as she drew near. “You’re not crying anymore.”

“I don’t need to.” She took his hand and led him toward a low bed that had appeared at the edge of the clearing, butted up against the hedge he’d torn through. The gash had closed, and now the dark leaves were lush, no longer forbidding. The forest surrounding them was a shield and not a barrier. It hummed with life, and the meadow where they rested was lush with grass and dotted with white flowers that glowed under the half moon.

The two lay down on the bed and he wrapped her in his arms. Her body hummed in awareness as he traced over the marks he’d painted on her neck and shoulders, and everywhere he touched, her skin turned gold.

“You’re not as tired as you were before,” he said.

“No. I’m sleeping better now that you found me.”

“I’m glad.” He nestled his face in her neck and took a deep breath. “I miss your scent.”

“And I miss yours.”

“Jasmine and smoke. We met in the market; it smelled like cloves.”

“I think… I remember that.”

She held on to the arm that banded around her waist. He’d rolled her onto her back and kissed softly along her collar and neck, his mouth lingering on her skin. His tongue tasting. Teasing. She closed her eyes and let her senses take her away, losing herself in the feel of his skin against hers, his energy aligning with her own. She felt calm. Content to her bones. But slowly, with every nip of his teeth against her neck, desire rose.

Her grip on his arm tightened. “I need you.”

“As I need you.”

His arm slid around her waist, and suddenly the clothes she’d felt against her skin and his were gone. In their place, a warm breeze wrapped around them as his mouth met hers. Their tongues touched, and he swallowed the low sigh that came from her throat.

“I missed this,” she whispered. “I missed you so much.”

“So did I. I don’t…” He pulled away for a moment, frowning. “I don’t remember what happened.”

“I don’t either.” Her hand went to his cheek, and she rubbed her thumb against the coarse stubble on his jaw. “Kiss me. It doesn’t matter. You’re here now.”

A slow smile—the one she loved that made his dimple stand out—spread over his face.

“I’m here now,” he whispered. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

He murmured it over and over again as he moved over her in the dark. The forest protected them; no danger hovered nearby. Soft night birds called in the trees as they held each other, and that moment was all she knew. They made love under a blanket of stars.

And it was enough.

Tags: Elizabeth Hunter Paranormal
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