Take of me, the magic whispered. Give to me.

His magic shot through her, and she could feel her mating marks burn as his arms tightened at the small of her back. Malachi’s own skin was hot beneath her hands. Like a circuit sparked by her passion, their magic joined and fed them both, opening them to each other. No insulation. No barriers.

She could see his talesm glowing on his forearms. Could feel the ghost of them under her palms. Once, they’d covered his body, marking the territory of him like a map. She’d told him once that the lack of them didn’t matter to her, but it did. Because they were part of him. Each spell carefully chosen and written. Not simply words a scribe had written to protect himself, but a guide to the man he’d chosen to become.

She wanted them back.

Cautiously, she bent to his ear again.

“Ya davarda,” she whispered, the spell slipping from her lips. It should have been easy after all the times she’d recited it in her mind, but she was so afraid.

Remember.

It was a command she imbued with the deepest longing of her heart. For Malachi to remember who he was. And who he’d made himself to be.

“Ya davarda, reshon,” she said it again, a little louder.

She felt the energy leave her fingertips and enter him. A slip of silk brushing against her skin. There for a heartbeat, then gone. Away from her. Into him.

“Ava!”

Malachi pulled back, his hands clenched on her hips so hard Ava knew they would bruise. His eyes were closed. The marks on his forearms glowed like fire fed from a sudden gust of wind.

She kept her hands on his shoulders, pressing down as if to keep them both from flying away. His face was clenched, but it was not in pain. His eyes darted back and forth beneath his lids. She felt a burning beneath her right palm and looked down.

Like living vines, his talesm crawled up his left forearm, joining and sometimes overwriting the spells he’d added after his return. The glowing quicksilver lines moved up his arm as she watched, twisting and turning. Traveling across and around his wrist, his forearm, his elbow, and bicep. His skin burned as from a fever.

The lines disappeared under his shirt. In their wake, his skin swelled and reddened, leaving ash-black ink embedded in his flesh.

Malachi’s chest heaved for a few deep breaths and then fell still. His head fell. The magic seemed to leave him and retreat back into her.

“Malachi?” She squeezed his shoulders and he winced. Ava quickly pulled her hands away, but he did not open his eyes. She had felt him, shoulders rock hard under her hands. But she could also see the lines of red blood seeping through the white cotton of his shirt.

She tried not to panic. “Malachi?”

He opened his eyes, and Ava could see a gold fire ringing his irises. Then he leaned back and tore off his shirt. Fine wells of blood stained his entire left arm, crawling up to his collarbone.

“You,” he panted, “did this.”

“Are you okay?” Ava was trying not to freak out. She’d wanted him to remember, but though he didn’t look angry, there was a violent expression in his eyes.

“Hurts.”

“I’m sorry.” She willed herself not to cry. She’d wanted him to remember, but his skin looked raw and wounded. She’d done this to him. Some of his talesm were back, but it must have been incredibly painful. “I’m so sorry.”

“No,” he grunted.

She tried to scramble off his lap, but he only held tighter, his hands digging into her hips. “Let me—”

“Not sorry,” he said. His forehead was gleaming with sweat. The burning in his skin hadn’t stopped. “Don’t be sorry.” He reached up and grabbed the back of her neck, forcing her mouth to his in a bruising kiss. Ava leaned into him. Relieved. Excited. She could feel the raw energy rolling off him in waves.

Adrenaline. Endorphins. Her mate’s body had been hit with a massive cocktail of magic and hormones in the space of a few minutes.

She pulled away, gasping as his hands began to tear at her clothes. “Oh. Not angry.”

“No.”

MALACHI made love to her with furious focus, ignoring what had to be brutal pain on his left side. Ava just held on and let him vent the surge of power into her body. Over and over. He asked if she was okay. If he was hurting her. He wasn’t. She was more afraid of hurting him, but he was insatiable and seemed to find as much satisfaction in her pleasure as in his own.

They took a break when the sun set, and someone—who wasn’t brave enough to speak—knocked on their door, reminding Ava they weren’t alone.

Malachi reached down, threw one of his boots at the door, and the footsteps hurried away.

Ava laughed into the shoulder that wasn’t sore. His arm had already healed over, but it was an angry red.

“You’re quite the beast today, aren’t you?”

“It’s your fault,” he said, rolling onto his right side. “Do you know how much magic you woke in me?”

She tentatively touched his left arm. “A lot?”

“Yes. And Rhys was right.”

“About?”

“I remember, Ava.”

She paused, stunned that it had worked. “How much?”

“Most of my childhood. The earliest things.” His eyes shone with tears. “I miss my parents again.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, stroking his cheek. He’d shaved that morning, but he was Malachi, so half a beard had already grown.

“Don’t be sorry,” he said. “I’m glad I miss them.” He brushed the wet away from his cheek. “They deserve to be missed.”

“How… What is it like?”

“You told me to remember, and it was like… a key unlocked in my mind. This door opened. And then inside that door, another door. And then another. I kept passing through each one, and it was as if the rooms they unlocked were infinite. Eventually, my brain just shut down. I remember everything through my school years. Rhys was there.” Malachi frowned. “He may be my best friend, but by heaven, he can be an ass.”

Ava burst into laughter. “He likes tormenting you.”

“Still does.” A reluctant smile crossed his face. “I suppose it was mutual.”

“And your talesm grew.”

He lifted an arm. “Apparently.”

“That looks really painful.”

“It is.”

She winced. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. I wanted them back.” He stretched his arm out and she could see the skin already healing around the tattooed flesh. “I feel stronger already.”

“Then I’m glad.”

“Good.” He touched her chin until she looked at his face. The gold fire had retreated and his eyes were a beautiful, cloudy grey again.

“What is it?”

“I adore you, Ava. Your mind is fascinating. Your spirit humbles me. And your body feels as if it was made to fit my own. Even now that I have more of my memories back, my thoughts continue to circle you on a level that’s borderline obsessive.”

She blinked. “Wow.”

“Know that. Understand it, because I’m going to say something that will likely make you angry.”

She frowned. “Oh.”

“You need to stop fooling around and work on your magic.”

“What?” Her mouth dropped open. “But you said—”

“I know what I said. ‘Go at your own pace. No pressure.’ That was me being supportive and protective.”

“I like you being supportive and protective.”

“I don’t think you need me to be supportive and protective right now. I think you need a kick in the ass. Because the magic I just felt has nothing dark or evil about it. You’re scared of something that doesn’t exist.”

Yeah, okay. That made her a little mad. More than a little. He didn’t know what she saw. Had no idea the shadows she felt lurking on the edge of her mind anytime the magic drew near.

“Until we know where my power comes from—”

“Ava, we may never know.” He sat up and she followed him, facing each other on the rumpled bed. “We could search the world, question your father, wring answers from a fallen angel, and there is no guarantee we’ll ever know why you were able to call me down from heaven. Or why you can show others things like the face of Death itself. We may not know any of it. Ever.”