The Singer - Page 101

Tears werehot on her face when she woke. Ava gasped and sat up, but Malachi did not stir beside her. His bare shoulders twitched as if he was still dreaming. She looked at him, scooting away until they no longer touched. She had slept pressed against him, and her body revolted at the loss.

But her mind…

Somewhere in his sleep, he reached for her. He stretched his arm across the expanse of the bed until his hand lay resting against the skin of her ankle. His fingers closed around it, he took a deep breath, then he relaxed into sleep again.

“Why do you keep him away?”

She remembered everything from her dream. Unlike the misty visions she’d clung to when she’d dreamt of Malachi, her vision of Jaron was glaringly clear.

“You will always rebel… It is in your very blood.”

The thought made her shiver, so she stared at the broad expanse of Malachi’s back, mentally tracing the patterns that were no longer there.

In the silent darkness, a wave of doubt washed over her.

What had she done? It was Malachi, but it wasn’t. She had made love to a dream but woken with a man she no longer knew. A stranger who claimed to love her but had no memories of their brief life together.

“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.”

Would she still hear him as she had? Or had their connection been permanently severed in death?

Had she heard his voice the night before? Had she imagined it? Maybe she’d forced herself not to listen for it, but a tiny voice whispered to her that maybe…

Maybe Malachi wasn’t truly hers. Not anymore.

“I think I’d pull down heaven if that’s what it took to keep you here with me.”

“And I’d abandon it if you weren’t there.”

The memory of his words brought tears to her eyes, because as precious as that memory was to her, he wouldn’t remember it. He wouldn’t remember their first kiss or the soft laughter after they’d made love. He wouldn’t remember her anger and confusion or his quiet way of reassuring her with just a look and a hand. He wouldn’t remember the stories she’d told him about her family or the rambling memories of four hundred years of life that he’d shared with her.

Mind-boggling. Wonderful.

Gone.

He wouldn’t remember the night he mated her, drawing his magic onto her body or the passion that had united them as one. The stranger who’d come back to her had found the other half of himself, but Ava’s soul still felt torn in two.

Her hand reached out, tracing the curve of a bare shoulder. She tried to remember exactly what had once covered it, but she couldn’t. At her touch, his twitching body stilled, and she cautiously opened up her mind to his voice.

It was the same, but different. And just like before, it was startling in its clarity. Words tumbled over each other as he dreamed. She could hardly keep up with his mind. But one phrase whispered to her, over and over.

Vashama canem, reshon.

Come back to me.

This time, he was reaching for her. The dark hedge in her dream flashed into her memory, and Ava started to sniff. Malachi woke at the sound and immediately sat up, wrapping his arms around her.

“What is it?”

She shook her head but could say nothing. She’d never felt more confused in her life.

“Ava, please.” His voice was strained, and he rocked her back and forth. “I need to know how to help you. What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know what is wrong?”

“I don’t know… anything. You’re here, but I still feel alone.”

He went completely still.

She forced the words out of her mouth. “I’m so confused, Malachi. You were dead. I felt you die. I still feel that ache. But you’re here. And I was—I am so happy. I don’t know how to explain it.”

His arms dropped from around her, and he leaned away. His voice came to her so low she could barely hear it.

“I am no longer the man you love.”

She grabbed his hand, willing him to understand, even when she didn’t. “But you are. And… you aren’t.”

He rolled his shoulders. “I am not as strong as I was. My talesm—”

“Have nothing to do with how I feel about you,” she said quickly. “They never did. I didn’t fall in love with you because you were strong or fast or a good fighter.”

She couldn’t see his eyes in the low light of the early evening that filtered into the room. There was a lamp in the corner, but his back was to it.

“Why did you fall in love with me?”

She melted at the vulnerability in his voice, so different than the reckless confidence he’d always worn before.

“I fell in love with your mind, which understood me. Your humor. The way… you would look so stern, then just the corner of your mouth would turn up when you smiled.”

His face was still in shadow, but she thought she saw a smile tilt the corner of his lips, so she continued.

“I love the way you would take care of me. Of anyone you cared about. You were—are—one of the most thoughtful men I’ve ever met. And I loved how confident you were, because it gave me confidence. I thought you could protect me from anything.”

“But I didn’t.”

Tags: Elizabeth Hunter Paranormal
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