“I’m fine.” He reached for the scarf he’d shoved in Ava’s purse. “I apologize. It is an old cut that must have opened as I moved. I’m quite all right.”

“Malachi?” Ava blinked her eyes open. “Where are—” She saw the bleeding. “Oh, babe. I’m so sorry. Does it hurt?”

She sat up, and then Malachi had to deal with two females fussing over him.

“I’m fine,” he protested. “It’s nothing.”

Luckily, the bleeding from his reformed talesm distracted the formerly annoyed attendant. She rushed away to retrieve some first aid supplies while Malachi tried to calm his body’s natural reaction to the rush of magic and endorphins his mate had produced.

Ava must have caught the tent in his pants, because he saw her hiding a smile.

“You are in so much trouble when we land,” he muttered.

“I’d apologize, but—”

“Don’t.” His command was hoarse. “Never apologize for that.”

Her smile was wicked. “You may come to regret telling me that.”

“Just as long as I come.”

Her eyes widened. “Someone’s in a mood.”

Malachi growled and grabbed a handful of her hair, pulling her in for a brief kiss. “I want to disappear somewhere with you, not go to Vienna.”

Her smile fell. “Me too.”

“If we go back to sleep, do you think we can avoid the whole mess?”

“Probably not. And we might get in trouble with the flight attendant.”

“Damn.”

THEY landed in the early evening; the sun had already set. Luckily, taxis weren’t difficult to find. Rhys had e-mailed Ava an address near Judenplatz, within the Innere Stadt, the oldest part of the city. They would be within walking distance of the Library that served as the council chambers, but far enough away to afford privacy. They’d also be near St. Rupert’s Church, one of the few places in Vienna Malachi felt didn’t drip with ostentation.

“Has Damien told anyone about me yet?” she asked as they waited in the taxi queue. “Or about us?”

Malachi shook his head. “He’s been trying to meet with different elders every day but isn’t having much success. While Sari’s presence in the city has caused some speculation, the Irina question is still being debated. The council is still treating the battle in Oslo as an isolated incident. And since so many of Volund’s Grigori were killed, they consider it a victory.”

Ava’s mouth dropped open, but a car was pulling up. Malachi grabbed her hand and walked toward it.

He helped her into the taxi and loaded their luggage in back, happy that his mate packed with the economy of a seasoned traveler.

She’d already given the driver the address by the time he closed the door and settled into the cab.

“Volund wasn’t even in Oslo,” she whispered, well aware that most taxi drivers in the city would speak English.

“I know that,” he said just as quietly. “But Brage was. And he was taken out. As Volund’s oldest and most feared child, the council considers that a victory. Remember, they don’t target the Fallen. In all my time as a soldier, I only remember hunting one angel. Grigori? Hundreds. But the Fallen are out of our reach. Of course, I don’t remember everything, so don’t take that as a complete picture.”

“That’s just…” She sputtered and shook her head.

Malachi could hardly argue with her. Underestimating the Grigori threat was ridiculous. And yet he was unsurprised that Damien hadn’t found success. Watchers had been pleading for years to take a more aggressive stance against the Fallen, but it was a difficult argument in a city that hadn’t seen a Grigori attack in centuries.

Now Jaron wanted Irin help to take out Volund. How he expected Malachi and Ava to convince the council of that was still a mystery.

Malachi was desperate for his memories. Without them, he was playing this game in the dark. He tried not to take his frustration out on Ava. It wasn’t her fault he couldn’t remember. And he still worried about pressuring her into the mating ritual. Though it would make him stronger, it could weaken her, and that was the last thing he wanted.

The fear of losing her was his biggest weakness.

Ava fell asleep on his shoulder just as they reached the Ringstraße. The days of scattershot travel around the continent had worn her out. He was tired as well, but he’d not be able to relax until he had his mate safe and was reassured that no harm would come to him while he rested. Their unpredictable travel had allowed them to remain anonymous for weeks. But now they were in Vienna. It was a spiderweb of politics, and a man only had to touch one wrong thread to attract dangerous attention from the wrong eyes.

THE next morning, they were lying in bed and Malachi was dozing in the grey dawn. The flat Rhys had let for them was small and tucked into a quiet corner of the neighborhood, away from the more lively restaurants and bars. He’d heard the crowds when he helped Ava to bed the night before, but the noise died down quickly. That morning, the only sounds that met his ears were the street sweepers and dog walkers below. The smell of coffee and bread drifted on the air, and his mate was curled safely into his side.

He was as content as he could be. Malachi had no idea whether Ava had traveled to Vienna before. She seemed to speak of more rural locations than urban, which would make sense with her previous inability to avoid the voices of the humans around her. As he lay there, smelling the bread and roasting beans from the kaffeehaus down the street, a few pleasant childhood memories intruded.

The first visit with his father to the Library where the elders met, the gallery above crowded as scribes clustered to observe the quiet work of their elders below. A tour of the archives that held the wealth of Irin history within its plain walls. Hearing his mother sing a story at the house of a friend, the walls echoing with laughter.

His mother had loved Vienna.

Perhaps they would have a few days to explore before Damien and Sari drew them into political maneuverings.

Probably not.

“Malachi?” Ava whispered.

“Hmmm?”

“Are you awake?”

“A little.”

Ava’s body didn’t know what time it was. She’d woken after midnight, greedy for him. They’d made love with quiet intensity. She’d muffled her cries of pleasure in his shoulder, then fallen quickly back to sleep with his scent on her skin.

“I was thinking.”

Malachi twisted a strand of hair around his finger. “Tell me, canım.”

“I can’t stop thinking about my grandmother.”

It was the first time she’d mentioned it since France. Malachi had tried not to bring it up. He’d come to learn she needed her silence. She’d speak to him when she was ready.

“What are you thinking about?”

She took a deep breath. “Seeing her was like a vision of all my worst fears made real.”

Her power still frightened her. Ava had spent the majority of her life fearing her own mind, constantly questioning her perceptions. If she was ever to fully access her power, she would have to accept it, but accepting it meant not hiding from the darkness inherent in her nature.

Malachi had to remind himself how young she was. When he was her age, he was still in the middle of his training, the reality of battle years away. Ava had been picked up and thrown into a war that had been raging for centuries, and she’d lost the first battle when her mate had been killed. Both of them were still recovering.

“Your grandmother’s mind was broken by violence,” he said. “And by a continued violation she has no way of stopping.” He put a palm to her temple. “You never have to fear that. The only one allowed in your dreams is me.”

“Volund could get in.”

“I don’t think he could.”