Kyra had avoided spending time with Alyah as much as possible. Unlike Ginny, the Thai Irina didn’t have the easy American temperament that made casual conversation simple. Alyah reminded Kyra of her brother. She was focused and serious. Smart and frighteningly efficient. Though she was patient with the kareshta at the temple in Chiang Mai, she had never been warm like Ginny.

So when Alyah knocked on Kyra’s door the next afternoon while Leo and Niran were scouting the border, Kyra was surprised.

“Leo said you have no longevity spells,” Alyah said, “which puts your life in danger.”

“I…” How did one respond to something so intensely personal? “He’s correct,” Kyra said quietly. “Kareshta have no longevity spells.”

Not that it was any of Alyah’s business. Kyra didn’t like talking about her impending death with anyone, much less someone who didn’t seem to like her. She was having a hard time not being angry with Leo for mentioning it, even though Kyra was sure he had a purpose. Just like he’d had a purpose talking to Ginny about it. Then Ginny had become angry and hadn’t spoken to Kyra again.

“You are necessary for this mission,” Alyah said. “I don’t want to insert myself into your and Leo’s… relationship. But your health is a priority if this mission is going to succeed. I hope you would find it acceptable if I sang a longevity spell for you. I can’t guarantee it will last for long, but it should give us some breathing room. A few days at least. I can always repeat it if necessary.”

So Alyah was willing to give Kyra this magic, but only because she was “necessary?”

It made Kyra feel small, like she had when she was younger and Barak called her “useful.” Her father wanted her around to strengthen Kostas, but he occasionally acknowledged Kyra’s gifts as well. The recognition made her feel less, not more. Perhaps because it was given so reluctantly.

It didn’t matter what Kyra’s feelings were. She was getting tired more quickly, which she’d initially put down to jet lag, but she’d been in Thailand for weeks. It wasn’t jet lag.

“Well?” Alyah asked. “Will you allow me to sing over you?”

Kyra nodded and opened the door to allow Alyah in the bungalow. Alyah scanned the room quickly, taking in the luxuriously appointed bed, flowers, and candles.

“They gave you the best room,” she said. “That’s nice.”

“Perhaps because they thought we were newly married.”

“Aren’t you?” Alyah said. “In a way.”

Again, Kyra found it difficult to read her. “You dislike our relationship.”

Alyah turned. “I find it confusing.”

“Why?”

“You are not equals.”

Her words stung. “No? I thought the Irin valued their women, even if they were not warriors. I may not be as accomplished as you are, but I do have some skill.”

Alyah cocked her head. “That is not why you are unequal.”

“Then how?”

“You have no magic. He is a scribe trained in the academy in Riga. He grew in a world without the tempering influence of the Irina council. He was born in blood, raised among nothing but warriors.”

“And yet he is more gentle than many who boast more,” Kyra said. “It is true I do not have the same magic he does.” She stepped closer to Alyah. “But I do have magic.”

“Not enough.”

Kyra’s temper snapped. “And how am I to learn more when that knowledge is withheld from me? Did you spring from your mother’s womb versed in the magic you wield now? Or did you learn from countless generations who came before you? I had no such luxury. The fact I am alive is a miracle. Ginny spoke of watching her sisters die. Do you Irina think you were the only ones?”

“Do you think you know the loss we suffered at the hands of your brothers?”

“Most of us are killed at birth,” Kyra said. “Those of us who live are usually abandoned to the humans, who call us crazy. We are locked up. Drug-addicted. Hunted because of these faces.” Kyra slapped her own cheek. “Do you think I like looking like this? Do you think I love the attention it brings? Do you think I like hearing the lust of the humans and the revulsion of my brothers?”

Alyah took a step back.

“We are driven mad by what we hear,” Kyra continued, walking toward Alyah. “Those Grigori you hate so much are sometimes the only thing standing between us and insanity or death. The luckiest of us end up in padded rooms. The weakest—the ones with the most magic—are preyed on by the Fallen who want to use us or by humans who see us as easy targets.”

“Magic doesn’t make us weak,” Alyah spit out. “Do you deride your own gifts?”

“What has your precious magic ever done for me but bring torment?”

Allah’s eyes went wide. “Is that why you are with Leo? To gain control over it?”

Kyra raised her hand to strike, but stopped before Alyah could react. She clenched her fist, pushing back the rage that threatened her. She took a physical step back. Then another.

“You don’t know me,” Kyra said quietly. “You don’t know me at all.”

Most assumed the rage belonged only to Kostas. Most saw Kyra’s calm demeanor and quiet life as evidence of peace or some internal fortitude. What they did not see was the well of rage she swallowed daily, just to live a normal life.

She didn’t want to feel it. She often wondered if her repression hurt Kostas by shoving her emotions into him.

Kyra took five breaths.

In. Out.

Slemaa.

In. Out.

“Domem,” she whispered. Kyra walked to the corner of the room where she had set out a pillow for meditation. She sat and closed her eyes.

Domem livah.

Domem manah.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Give thanks for each breath. Give thanks for each moment of peace. She swallowed her anger again.

And again.

She was silent.

Seven breaths later, she felt Alyah sit next to her. The angry part of Kyra wanted to kick her out of the room. The pragmatic survivor needed her to stay and give her magic. Alyah took Kyra’s hand and began to sing in a low voice. It was a tonal chant, dipping and weaving over words Kyra didn’t recognize. As she sang, Kyra felt the energy touch her and spread like oil over water. It rippled over her and sank beneath her skin. She felt luminous and strong.

Her soul wept at the beauty of it. She longed to weave power like this, as Bun Ma wove thread in her loom. As Alyah sang, Kyra listened to the notes climb up and down, measured steps in a heavenly dance.

She fell asleep.

* * *

Vasu crouched before her. “Do you see it yet?”

“See what?” Kyra opened her eyes.

She was in her bungalow, but everything was hazy. The vibrant colors had leached from the room. Vasu sat back on his heels and peered at her like a curious bird.

She blinked. He was a raven.

She blinked again. A cat.

“Will you stop?” she said. “One form is confusing enough.”

He shifted back to the beautiful man with the heavy-lidded eyes. “Do you see it yet?”

“See what?”

Vasu sighed. “Children are so much wiser than adults.”

“Not usually.”

“Yes, they are. The little one saw it immediately. Like stars, she said. A perfect geometry.”

The little one… “Are you talking about Intira? Have you been talking to her?”

“Her mind is a very interesting place.”

Kyra spoke in a firm voice. “Stay away from Intira.”

Vasu frowned. “No.”

The petulant expression reminded Kyra that she wasn’t dealing with a typical angel. There was something intensely childlike about Vasu, a brightness and curiosity her father had never exhibited. Vasu was like the naughty child who dropped a rock on another child’s finger. It wasn’t cruelty. It felt more like curiosity. Of course, it was curiosity without moral restraint.

Kyra understood amoral creatures. She had been raised among the Fallen.

“Vasu, you must stay away from Intira. Her mind is young and impressionable.”

“I know.”

“But think,” she said carefully. “If you visit her too often, she may soon mirror your thoughts and not her own. Then what makes her interesting and unique will be spoiled. Her mind should remain her own. That is what makes her wise.”

Vasu crossed his legs and sat in front of her. “You may have some insight.”

“Is that why you visited me?” It wasn’t the first time she’d been visited by a Fallen. Her father had sat in her dreams when she was young. Sometimes he felt benevolent. Mostly he felt cold.

“I visited you…” Vasu cocked his head again. “Why did I visit you?”

“I don’t know, Vasu.”

He closed his eyes. “Oh!” They popped open. “Do you see it yet?”

“That question still makes no sense to me.”

“The music.” He leaned forward and exhaled a hot breath over her lips. “You have to see the music.”

“You’re not making sense. You don’t see music, you hear it.”

“I do make sense; you just don’t see. But you will.”

His presence was so heated she felt her body react. She didn’t like it but knew the reaction had little to do with Vasu’s intention. Angels were seductive by nature.

“What do you want, Vasu? What do you hope to gain by this meddling?”

He sat up straight but said nothing.

Vasu had been allied with both Jaron and Barak. Jaron and Barak had both returned to heaven.

“Do you think it worked?” Kyra asked quietly. Were they redeemed?

Vasu saw inside her mind. “I have no way of knowing.”

There was a note of longing in his voice. She felt it more than she heard it.

“Are you lonely?” she asked.

“If I was, daughter of Barak, what would you do to remedy me?” Vasu leaned forward and captured her lips.

Vasu’s kiss was heated and lush. Honey and saffron. Sweet milk and raisins. Kyra opened her mouth and pulled away, taking the angel’s breath into her lungs. Vasu captured her chin and held her, forcing her eyes to his. His gaze was not cruel, but the power in it filled her heart with dread.

“You have nothing to fear from me,” Vasu whispered. “You do not carry the thing I need, Barak’s daughter, but you may take this gift anyway.”

Kyra blinked and he was gone.

She woke in the bungalow, still sitting in the corner where she meditated, tears rolling down her cheeks and the taste of honey in her mouth.

* * *

Leo found her hours later, still sitting in the corner. He carried a tray into the bungalow and set it beside her.

“Alyah said she sang to you. She said you might be tired. She apologized as well. Did she offend you?” He sat beside her and stroked her hair back from her forehead. “I didn’t want to disturb you when you didn’t come to dinner, but I thought you might be hungry.”

Kyra glanced down at the tray. Fruit and rice. A bowl of vegetables and chicken bathed in fragrant coconut curry. A pot of tea and a single cup.

She looked up at Leo. “I love you. Or I think I love you. I’m not sure I know what that is, but I feel something for you that is so huge. Sometimes it frightens me, but I cannot seem to stop feeling it.”

Leo didn’t say anything, but his face… She couldn’t read his face.

He sat beside her and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Why wouldn’t you know what love is?”

“The only people I have loved are my brothers and sisters. And this is not the same.”

“No.” He leaned over and delicately kissed along her ear. “No, it’s not.”

“Do you love me like this? I think you do, because you are so kind to me. You take care of me. I think… you must think about me as much as I think about you. I try not to listen to your thoughts, but your voice is so clear. Even when I hear you, I can’t know if you have this feeling inside you. Is that what reshon means? Does it mean you love me?”

He placed a warm hand on her neck and tilted her head to the side, laying kisses along skin that hadn’t known sensation until he touched it.

“Reshon,” he whispered, “means that you are mine and I am yours. That we were created for each other. This is love—because I love you so much—but it’s more than love.”

“What can be more than love?” Her heart felt like it might burst. Leo loved her too. He had been raised with love, so he must know the feeling she was talking about. He didn’t have her fractured past.

He loved her.

Leo pressed his cheek to hers. “When we have time, when we are safe, I will show you what it means to be reshon. What I can tell you now is that it is a connection ordained by the Creator. It means my voice will always be the clearest for you—”

“It always has been. From the beginning.”

He smiled. “And my touch will always give you peace.”

“It already does.”

Leo hauled Kyra into his lap and hugged her tightly. “You belong to me.” It wasn’t spoken in pride but in awe.

She smiled against his chest. “I would like that.”

“And I belong to you.” He tilted her chin up and kissed her. “You know that’s part of it, don’t you?”

“What can I do for you?” she asked. “If I am your reshon, what does that mean for you?”

“Your touch will heal me,” Leo said. “When I am wounded, your touch will make me stronger. Your song…”

His expression went blank, and Kyra’s heart sank.

She asked, “It won’t be the same, will it? It won’t be the same as it would be if your reshon were Irina. Because I don’t know the same magic.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does.”

“Ava was able—”

“Ava was human. Or at least she was to the Irina. She has no ties to the Grigori world. No one would ever question her loyalty, Leo.” She rested her ear over his chest and listened to his heart beat. “They taught her magic, but it’s not the same for me.”

He said nothing, because he knew she was right. It didn’t matter how much Leo loved her; he could not teach her the magic she needed to be what she wanted to be for him. She also knew he wouldn’t let her go. Their connection was unique. She believed that.

“I love you, Kyra.”

Would it be enough?

Leo set her on her pillow and put the tray on the low table beside them. They took turns feeding each other until they had eaten everything. Kyra couldn’t finish what Leo had brought her, but she smiled and fed him the rest.

“You are what they call a bottomless pit.”

He stretched out next to her. “There is a lot of me to fuel.”

“Most Irin I’ve met aren’t as tall as you. Most Grigori are taller, but they’re not as strong.”

“It’s probably simple genetics. Everyone in my family was tall. But my cousin and I…” He winked. “We may have written a few spells to give us an edge. I don’t know if they worked or if it’s just in our blood.”

“So your parents were tall as well?”

“I believe so. I didn’t know my mother, just a few things about her. She was a healer. Sometimes I think I have memories of her, but I don’t know if I’m really remembering or whether they’re memories others have told me. Both of Max’s parents were killed in the Rending. Our mothers were twin sisters. I think that’s why we look so much alike.”

“Your father?”

“I did meet him when I was seven. He was a mystery. Everyone assumed he was dead for many years. And we were never close. I don’t think he was ever the same man after he lost my mother. Our grandfather is the one who raised us. He wrote our first spells.” Leo turned over to show the line of spells that ran down his back. “Until we went to the academy, he cared for us. And he was very tall. He was our mother’s father, so Max and I were all he had left.”

So the Rending had taken Leo’s family from him too. Though it happened before her birth, Kyra still felt a pang of guilt anytime one of the Irin mentioned it.

“It had nothing to do with you,” Leo said.

“Are you sure it’s not carried in the blood?” Kyra asked lightly. “Like genes for being tall?”

“I’m sure.”

“There will always be some who don’t see it that way.”

“Probably yes.” He rolled over and laid his head in her lap. “But there will be more who understand.”

“I hope so.” She ran her fingers through his hair and felt his chest rise and fall in a steady, relaxed breath.

She could do this for him. She might not have magic, but she could do this. She could love him so well he wouldn’t feel the loss. She would shove back her anger and swallow it whole to make room for loving Leo, who brought her flowers and fed her from his own hand.

I love you so much. I will make myself deserving of it.

After dinner, Leo ran a bath and put frangipani in the water, which filled the air with its heady scent. Then he lifted her and brought her to the bathroom.

“One step at a time,” he said. “Tonight we try for no clothes.”

Her face heated immediately. “No clothes at all?”

“Only if you want to, but I am curious why you are reluctant to let me see you.” He teased her, trying to keep it light. “Do you have an embarrassing birthmark you don’t want me to see? A tail you’ve been hiding?”

“No,” she said. “My body is perfect.”

Leo made a sound low in his throat. It was a hungry, raw sound that both thrilled and frightened her.

“Kyra—”

“Right now you see me. All of me. My face, but my mind and heart too.” Her voice grew softer. “When men look at me… It’s as if I don’t exist anymore. They don’t see me. Only my body.”

“Hmm.” Leo didn’t say anything. He took her by the hand and walked to the bed, sitting down and putting his hands on her hips.

For the longest time he only looked at her, as if he was trying to see beneath her skin.

“I can’t promise I won’t lose my head a little,” he said quietly. “Because, Kyra, I know you will be beautiful. When I see your bare skin, it will be overwhelming. But I will always see you first.”

She nodded.

“When you see me without my clothes—”

“I’ve only seen you without your shirt,” she said. “Not the whole of you.”

He smiled. “Fine. Then imagine me right now. The whole of me, without a stitch of clothing on my body.”

Kyra closed her eyes and imagined it, surprised when the same hungry sound left her own throat. Her eyes flew open.

Leo was smiling. “Good.”

“You’re saying that when I see you naked, I’ll forget who you are too?”

“Hunger doesn’t mean we forget who we’re with. It only means that our bodies recognize each other like our hearts do. Do you think I’ve ever wanted a woman the way I want you? I haven’t. Other women do not interest me.” He brought his mouth to her belly, lifted her shirt, and nipped at the sensitive flesh. “This need is only for you.”

She let out a low breath. “Okay.”

He lifted her shirt again, running his fingers along her waistband. “May I?”

She nodded. As he peeled down her leggings, she felt the tiny hairs on her legs stand up. He lifted her feet and tossed the leggings away before he stood and brought her shirt over her head.

Kyra stood before him in her bra and panties, wishing she’d thought to put on the nice pair. She hadn’t been expecting this that morning when she dressed.

Leo sat again, letting her become accustomed to the air on her bare skin. He put his hands on her hips and toyed with her panties, kissing along her belly. His hands moved back and cupped her bottom, his warm fingers sliding under the fabric that covered it.

“Yes?” he whispered.

“Yes.” Feeling bold and impatient, she reached back and unclipped her bra.

Leo heard the fabric slide off and raised his eyes, devouring her breasts without a sound. With his gold hair and sharp gaze, he reminded her of a lion eying his prey. She dropped the bra to the floor and rested her hand on his broad shoulders.

Beautiful. He formed the word with his mouth, though no sound came. Beautiful.

He didn’t touch her, but his gaze made her skin warm. Her heart pounded, and the liquid breeze caressed her skin.

Leo tugged at her panties. “May I?”

She nodded, and he slid them down her legs. He lifted one long leg and set it on the bed beside him, baring every part of her to his eyes. Leo ran the tips of his fingers over her legs, her knees, her bottom, her hips.

He bent and kissed the inside of her thigh, sliding his tongue up and making her gasp.

“May I?” he whispered, eyes closed as he breathed her in.

“Please.”