The Singer - Hunter Elizabeth (лучшие книги читать онлайн бесплатно без регистрации txt) 📗

“They’re coming back to me.” He grabbed for her hand. “Please, Ava.”

There were the tears again. “Do you even remember who I am?”

“Of course I do.”

“Do you? Or is it just this—this mating instinct? If you don’t even remember what we were, or how we fell in love…” Her voice fell away before she whispered, “Do you even love me anymore?”

Everyone was staring, but no one was offering to help explain. Of course, what was there to explain? None of them knew anything.

He stood and took Ava’s hand. “If you would excuse us, I don’t think we need an audience.”

He’d pondered how he would approach this since the day he and Rhys had talked in the library.

“You love your mate. But… you don’t love Ava. You can’t, because you don’t know her anymore.”

But he did! He’d hoped his memories would have returned by the time he found her. He’d hoped, but it was in vain.

“You don’t,” she whispered. “You don’t remember me. You feel the same bond I do, but it’s instinct. You don’t remember Cappadocia or Istanbul. When you showed me the Basilica Cistern… or the way you used to scold me when I would talk about being insane—”

“I still don’t like that, so don’t start,” he snapped.

He closed the door and spun toward her, suddenly angry. With her. With himself. With the whole damn confusing maze. Didn’t she realize? He was as lost as she was. Ava looked shell-shocked, standing in the center of Max’s bedroom, staring at a wall.

“You don’t remember the island or the kiss. The first time we made love. You don’t remember any of it?”

“Stop reminding me of everything I’ve lost. Trust me, I know.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, and he could feel her withdrawing. “How could you not remember?”

“It’s not like I had a choice, Ava!”

“But…” She worked to speak. “It was… our time together, Malachi. It was—”

“Brief. I know. They told me it was only a few months. But we are bound. Marked. So it’s possible—”

“It wasn’t brief,” she said softly. “It was everything.”

He stopped speaking, and the anger drained away.

“It was everything,” she repeated. “The happiest time of my life. The first time I felt like I belonged anywhere. With anyone. With you.”

He reached for her, glad she didn’t pull away. He’d known he loved her, but until that moment, he’d had no concept of how much she had loved him. It thrilled him. Malachi wanted to roar in triumph, but Ava was still trembling.

“I’m remembering more every day. I do remember some things, and—”

“Do you remember any of the things I just mentioned?”

He paused. Malachi ached that those moments were a blank in his mind. “No, Ava, but—”

“So you don’t. This isn’t just about me.” She shook her head stubbornly. “And if you don’t remember me—”

“Are you serious?” He was angry again. “I don’t remember you?”

“You just said—”

“Ava, you are the only thing I remember!”

She said nothing, but he could see the doubt in her eyes.

“When I woke… there was nothing,” he whispered. “Nothing. I was nothing until you called me. I heard nothing until I heard your voice. I didn’t remember my name until you named me. I do remember a few things. It’s coming back. And each memory is like a beacon—a marker—of the life I lost. You were the first one. I will remember more. And we will make new memories together. So many that the life I lost will be nothing to compare to it.”

The doubt still lived in her eyes. He wanted to battle her doubt and fear the way he battled a physical enemy, but he couldn’t.

“Please, Ava. You have to understand.”

“I love you.” She spoke so softly he almost didn’t hear her. “I never stopped. Even when you died. But do you love me?”

He knew it without question.

“Yes.”

“But how—”

“I love…” He stepped closer to her and spoke firmly. “I love you.”

How could he make her understand when he hardly understood himself?

“I don’t remember the first time I kissed you,” he said. “I don’t remember the first time we made love. And Ava… I may never remember those things. But I know I love you the same way I know that… I’m right-handed.” He tried to smile, but he knew it came out forced. “I love the taste of oranges because they make me think of my mother… who I also don’t really remember. The same way I know that… I will have to shave twice a day for the rest of my life or resign myself to a full beard. I don’t like guns, but knives are like an extension of my own hand and axes are highly underrated.”

“Malachi—”

He just kept going. “I like beer and not vodka. I get restless when I’m too long indoors and want—need to go running.”

He saw her eyes start to soften, so he stepped closer and prayed she didn’t retreat from him.

“I don’t remember a fraction of what I was taught in my training, who is on the council in Vienna, or what singer is popular on the radio. But I can tell you what foods I like and what music makes me want to tear my hair out. And I can tell you, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I love you.”

She lifted a hand and clenched it above her heart. “Please—”

“Because loving you is part of who I am. It’s not a memory or a moment. It is in my soul. And I will never—can never—forget my soul.”

Ava said nothing. His heart raced. But finally she went to him, embraced him, and Malachi let out a relieved breath. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed his cheek to her temple.

“I don’t understand it either. I just know it’s true.”

“I love you,” she said. “And part of me thinks it’s not fair of me to love you when you don’t remember—”

“Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that.”

“I don’t care!” Her voice was fierce, and he reveled in it. Reveled in her possession. The way her arms tightened around him, claiming his body as her own. “I lost you once. And I pulled you down from heaven to bring you back. You’re mine.”

“Completely.” He kissed her temple. Her cheekbone. “Completely, Ava.”

Working his way down her face, he searched for Ava’s lips.

“Some days—”

He found them. Kissed her silent, but she pulled away to say, “Some days I thought I wouldn’t breathe again. That I didn’t even want to.”

“I need you.” He was rock hard and aching for her. Like her kiss, her body was heat and substance. Not the thin shadow of a dream, but flesh and blood and skin and life.

She began to pull at his shirt. He stepped back and tugged it over his head. Her hands spread out over his chest and dug in, her fingers gripping him almost painfully. Malachi threw his head back and groaned.

“Ava.”

She kissed his chest, licked at his skin, tugged at the hair that grew there and scraped her teeth over a sharply aroused nipple. His hands pushed her shirt up her waist to feel the heat at the small of her back as she painstakingly undressed him. The button on his pants, then the zipper. Then she slipped her fingers down the back and pushed down, taking all his clothes with him. He was helpless under her small hands.

Walking him back to the bed in the corner, she waited until his knees hit the edge, then she came down with him, stripping him of his socks, running her hands up his legs. Her mouth followed everywhere.

“You’re real,” she whispered, over and over again. “Real.”

“Come here.”

“Your face…” She stood and traced a finger over the arc of his cheekbones. The curve of his lips. “Real.” Her warm palm opened on his skin. “Your shoulders…”

Bare. His body hummed with energy, and he tried to ignore the burn of shame at the reminder of his bare skin. He was naked before her in every way.

“Your hands.” Her voice was thick with emotion. He could hear the tears she battled as she reached down and linked their hands together.