Kyra was delighted by Sura. He looked like a college kid, had the aura of an old man, and a wicked sense of humor. He’d jumped at the chance to visit the market when he learned his sister was coming. Then he’d hung back with Kyra and Intira, offering a running commentary on the best shopping, the most delicious noodles, and the coldest beer while Niran and the other Grigori kept watch on the market where locals and tourists mingled.
“How are you doing?” Kyra asked Intira.
The girl’s dimples told the story. “Good. This is fun.”
Intira was wandering the market with the wide, innocent eyes of a child. She’d visited the city before but hadn’t ever been exposed to crowds like those at the night market.
Kyra said, “You must tell me if you have trouble with your shields. There is no shame in asking for help. You’re doing so well, but everything is still new to you.”
“I understand,” Intira said. “When we passed the music I had trouble. Then once it quieted down, I remembered to sing.”
“Loud noises distract me too. I’m glad you recovered. If you get in trouble, grab my hand.”
“Thanks.”
Sura grinned at the girl and gently touched her shoulder. “I’m so happy for you, sister.”
“You’re the youngest and the oldest,” Kyra said. “I just realized. Niran said you were the oldest brother. And Intira is the youngest sister.”
“Yes,” Sura said. “There are more stories to tell, but maybe not at the market tonight.”
“No.” Kyra watched Intira take everything in. She was like a sponge. A delighted sponge. “This night is too beautiful to share those stories.”
“You speak the truth.”
Kyra remembered the first time she’d experienced the public market in Thessaloniki, near where she’d been born. It was the first time Kostas had taken her into public with him after they thought they were free of their father.
Kyra had ended the day shaking and in tears. The voices in the market had nearly rendered her unconscious. She’d been told from birth she was weaker than her brothers. Told she was fragile and breakable and incapable. No matter how valued her twin brother was, Kyra was useless and always would be because her mind was weak.
Her first foray out of her father’s compound confirmed every fear she’d harbored.
Kostas had told her she was strong, but she’d never believed him. And his protection over the years and decades since—no matter how well-meant—hadn’t helped her confidence. She still struggled with malicious voices in her mind. Once, they’d come from the outside. Now they whispered from within.
“Sura, look! Is that the ice cream?” The young girl pointed in the direction of a stall selling elaborate treats with candied fruit.
Intira didn’t wear Kyra’s shadows. According to Niran and Sura, she’d been sheltered nearly from birth. Her mother had died, not from the strain of an angelic pregnancy, but from trying to escape from their father. It was the woman’s death that had spurred Niran, Sura, and Kanok to action. Sura had gathered allies from his travels who helped them, other Grigori who bore the tattoos he’d learned to ink.
“The Grigori you tattooed today,” Kyra said. “Is he still around?”
Sura paused. “I believe he’s staying at a temple closer to Chiang Rai. Many of our free brothers choose a monastic life if they can handle it. It lessens temptation.”
“You’re a monk.”
“For now. My vows were not for life. I try to be open to possibilities in all things. Right now my sisters’ well-being is at the front of my mind. That’s why I’m so grateful that you’ve come to teach them what I can’t.”
“Kyra is a great teacher.” Intira looked up at her brother. “But you’re still my favorite big brother.”
“Fine. You can have the rest of my noodles,” Sura said, handing his bowl to Intira. “But that doesn’t mean I’m sharing my ice cream with you.”
“You said you would!”
“I’ll buy you your own.” Sura slung his arm around Intira’s shoulder and steered her toward the ice cream vendor who was spreading fruit and other sweets over the ice-cold slab where he mixed the treat.
Kyra watched them walk away and wondered if she should try to catch up with Niran. She eased past a crowd watching a street performer with puppets and started when someone grabbed her hand.
She stopped with a gasp when everything went quiet.
Everything.
The crowds.
The band.
The background hum of the souls surrounding her.
Kyra didn’t need to turn around to know who held her hand in his warm grasp.
She turned anyway.
“Leo.”
Chapter Six
She was here. In front of him. Real and tangible, not one of the dreams that tormented him. Her gold eyes were wide with shock. Her fair skin had grown tan, and her dark hair had streaks of amber through it.
“Leo.”
She said his name, but he couldn’t speak.
“What are you doing here?”
Leo’s heart was beating out of his chest. His mind was a jumble, and no coherent thought would form. A singular instinct took hold of him.
Away.
He tugged Kyra’s hand and turned, ducking under a hanging rack of lanterns and pulling her down a narrow alley between two market stands. She went with him for a few meters, then pulled on his hand.
“Stop!” she cried. “You don’t understand. I’m with friends. It’s not what you think.”
He turned and Kyra’s momentum pushed her into his chest.
She looked up, her expression still baffled. “Leo, I don’t understand what you’re doing here.”
He swallowed and opened his mouth, but again no words came out. How could he explain? How could he explain anything? His appearance. His actions. The reaction he had toward her.
Reshon.
The longing thought leapt to his mind. Was it the voice of his soul or a mad wish? He’d vowed to wait for his reshon—his soul mate chosen by heaven—when he was a young scribe, hopeful and romantic. A vow he’d wondered about since the first time he saw Kyra and she told him, “You make the voices go away.”
“Leo, tell me—”
Leo bent down and wrapped his arm around her waist, drew Kyra’s mouth to his, and kissed her.
Her taste exploded on his lips. It was everything new and everything familiar at once.
Yes.
There you are.
Her kiss tasted like ginger and oranges. Her lips were as unpracticed as his own. Kyra’s arms came around his neck, and he felt the contact move through him like an electric current. Her kiss was the rain. Her touch, the lightning. He gripped her waist harder. Would he bruise her? She kissed him back, one hand gripping his hair at his nape as her mouth moved eagerly against his own.
He’d only kissed her in his dreams. He’d imagined it in real life a hundred times. A thousand perhaps.
The heady taste of Kyra was far better than dreams.
She pulled back, gasping. “What are you doing?”
“Kissing you.” His voice was rough. “I’m kissing you.”
Leo kissed her again, ravenous for another taste. Her head fell back and he kissed her neck. Behind her ear. He set her down so his hands could slide over the delicate wings of her shoulder blades where her skin was bare. Was his skin too rough? He had many calluses from training. Would they scratch her? Did she like to be scratched?
“I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long,” he said against her mouth.
“I don’t understand.” Her teeth scraped across his lower lip, and Leo shuddered. “What are you doing here?”
“I told you.” Heaven above! Did every woman’s skin taste so delectable? How did their mates keep their mouths away from them? Leo kissed along Kyra’s jawline. And her scent! “So good,” he muttered.
He’d been aroused before; after all, he was hundreds of years old and scribes were never meant to be monks. But nothing compared to the pounding urgency in his body to take her, devour her, consume her passion to feed his own.
A mate chosen by heaven.
“We need…” She let out a short gasp when Leo nibbled on the muscle at the side of her neck. “Leo, stop.”
What? No! Why?
He frowned and lifted his head. “Am I doing something wrong?”
Kyra blinked. “I don’t… know. No?”
His eyes fell to her swollen lips. “I like kissing you.”
She let out a small groan.
“So much.”
Her chest heaved. Which caused her delicate breasts to rise and fall. Which was so, so good. They drew his gaze like magnets.
“Did you like it too?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yes, but—”
“Good.” Leo bent his head, but she put a hand over his mouth and pushed.
“What are you doing in Chiang Mai?”
He opened his mouth. “I’m—”
“Other than kissing me,” Kyra said. “I think I understand that part.”
Oh. Hmm. How to explain? “I was called to Bangkok by the watcher there.”
“The Irin watcher?” Her eyes went blank. “But why are you in Chiang Mai?”
Leo hated the blank expression. He automatically knew she was hiding something. “There were pictures of you.”
“What? Where?”
“In Bangkok. Surveillance pictures.”