“I know it doesn’t. Nor should it. So why don’t you wipe the frown off your face and enjoy the wine? It’s… well, it’s not great. But it’s not horrible, either.” He smiled, a brilliant flash of white in the twilight.

“Don’t tell me how to feel. I’ll be annoyed if I want to.”

“Oh, two hundred years was almost enough to make me forget the churlishness of an angry female.” Rhys threw an arm around the back of her shoulder and leaned in. “Nothing quite like it. And all that anger sitting behind so much power? It’s a wonder more Irin don’t suffer from missing—”

“You talk too much.” She pulled him down by the collar and kissed him. Hard. His lips were frozen in shock, and Ava released them almost immediately, pushing him back. “Sorry.”

His voice was a rough growl. “Finished punishing him?”

“I said I was sorry.”

“Don’t be.” His arm slipped lower, looping around her waist and pulling her into his chest. Then his mouth met hers in a yearning kiss. Hungry. Biting. Rhys’s lips pressed against hers, and his tongue licked out, teasing along her bottom lip until she gasped. He danced along the edge of desire, his hands holding her carefully, his mouth doing wicked things to her own. After a few heated moments, he pulled away, his green eyes practically glowing in the moonlight.

“Well,” he said. “That was…”

Her cheeks were flush with embarrassment. “It was definitely…”

“Fine.” He sat back and his shoulders slumped a little. “It was fine.”

And Ava felt exactly the same. “Totally and utterly… fine.”

They both let the silence hang for a moment.

“Why wasn’t it more than fine?” Rhys asked.

“It should have been. Good technique.”

“Well, that’s nice to hear, considering there’s been a necessary lapse in practice.”

She patted his thigh. “No, you’re good.”

“Just good?” The corner of his mouth lifted. “Maybe I should try again.”

Ava couldn’t stop the smile. “Please don’t. It would just be weird at this point.”

“Totally agree.” He squeezed her shoulder.

Silence fell between them again, and Ava felt the depths of her own stupidity. Her kiss had been unfair to Rhys. Unfair to herself. Rhys was her friend. Would this change things? Would he resent her? She was mentally cataloguing her faults when she heard him speak.

“It’s all right, love.”

She whispered, “I wish it had been more than fine.”

“I’m not him,” Rhys said. “I think he’ll figure it out soon. He’s very bright, despite being an idiot. But he holds honor above self-interest, which is both wonderful and maddening.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t lie. We’re past that now. And I’d be lying if I pretended not to know how he feels about you.”

“I’m not…” She struggled to put it into words. “I’m not used to expecting happiness, Rhys. I’d probably punch it if it looked me in the face. So really, I’m as much of an idiot as he is.”

“His voice sounds different to you, doesn’t it?”

She blinked. “How did you know that?”

He seemed to draw away. “I didn’t. Just a guess.”

“What does that mean?”

A slow smile crept across his face. “I don’t think I’m going to tell you. It’ll be too fun to watch you find out on your own.”

Pounding steps approached in the night. Malachi appeared out of the black, shirtless and dripping despite the cool evening air. His talesm seemed to glow when he caught sight of her, a low silver 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?”

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.”

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 had 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.”

Chapter Thirteen

With one hand, he pulled her into the room, and with the other, Malachi slammed the door shut. He tugged her into his chest and captured her lips with his own. Desire roared through his body, thick with tension after two hundred years of fasting and a lifetime of waiting. For her. For Ava.

Reshon.

Malachi knew as he held her. He could feel the power pulsing through his talesm, the bare skin over his heart aching to be marked by Ava’s magic. He could feel it singing over her skin, her touch igniting the fierce passion he’d buried for so long.