“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.