The Scribe

Imagine a person created for you. Another being so in tune with you that their voice was the clearest you’ve ever heard in your mind.

Hey, you burn through a lot of energy when you contain this much awesome.” She winked,

Thousands of you, Scribe. One of her.

We’re all immortal, as long as our stories are told.

Pounding steps approached in the night. Malachi appeared out of the black, shirtless and dripping despite the cool evening air. (He was out for a run and just returned.) His talesm seemed to glow when he caught sight of her, a low sliver light in the darkness. He said nothing, shooting Rhys a glare as he walked past them and into the house. 'Has he kissed you?' Rhys asked when Malachi was gone. 'Yes, on the island.' 'Was it more than fine?' (She had described Rhy's kiss as 'fine' previous to this scene.) Her breath left her body in a rush of memories. 'So much more than fine.' He nudged her shoulder with his own. 'Then don't be stubborn, go to him.' Fifteen minutes and another glass of wine later, Ava knocked on his door. Malachi opened it, holding a towel. He'd showered, and a few drops of water still clung to his tanned shoulders. He wore a pair of loose pants and a guarded expression. 'What do you want?' 'I kissed Rhys.' Now she knew she wasn't imagining it. The tattoos pulsed silver in the dim light of the hall. Ava forced her eyes back to Malachi's face which was locked down tight. Only a tic in his jaw told Ava her words have even been heard. His voice was low and thick with tension. 'Get that out of your system?' 'Felt a little like kissing my brother.' He dropped the towel and tugged her into the room.'This won't'

She does not faint at my touch. She might not faint, but swooning was a definite possibility if he kept drawing on her skin like that.

Supernatural bad guys? Of course there are supernatural bad guys.” She threw up her hands. “I mean, you don’t get superheroes without supervillains, right?

You’re not crazy, Ava. You’re…a miracle.

Vashama canem, reshon. Vashama canem.” Come back to me.

but the wine had muffled the voices, making it harder for her to read the intentions of the man sitting next to her.

And just like the moment in the hall, when grief and recognition slammed together, Ava knew. However it had happened, whatever strange twist of fate had caught her… these were her people. And however he tried to deny it, Malachi was hers, too.

is ‘of course’ about this situation!

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

Malachi?” “Yes?” “I love you, even though you’re dragging me through really stinky water and mud right now.