Malachi squeezed her shoulder and said, “Maybe the way to protect her is by telling her whatever you’re trying to hide.”

“She may think that, but she’d be wrong.”

Her father’s eyes finally met hers, and the haunted look was back. It was the look he wore sometimes when he looked at her mother. At her. The tormented part of Jasper Reed knew how much he’d lost by not being a good man. It was the same part that locked himself away from the world for months at a time and wrote some of the most achingly beautiful music Ava had ever heard.

“Love you, baby girl,” he said to her. “Gonna work on your song when I get back to the studio. Promise.”

As if she hadn’t heard that promise a million times. There must be a dozen different versions at this point. She had never heard a single one.

“Sure. Right.” She stood and took Malachi’s hand. “Bye, Jasper. Take care of yourself.”

Ava walked away from the man who had fathered her without looking back. She held Malachi’s hand the whole time.

HE’D spent the hour since her unsuccessful meeting with Jasper holding her on the small couch in their hotel room. He hadn’t said anything. Hadn’t offered any words of comfort or anger or frustration, though she could tell he was worried.

Her concentration was strained, her emotions were strung out, and Ava was exhausted. Malachi’s voice slipped through. Before she’d been able to shield herself, his voice sat in the back of her mind constantly. But like her father’s, it was more like a steady background music than a jarring intrusion.

Reshon.

Soul mate.

“Imagine a person created for you. Another being so in tune with you that their voice was the clearest you’ve ever heard in your mind.”

It was a voice that had come to mean everything to her.

And then it was gone.

Silence.

And for the first time, silence had made her scream.

For a time after he’d come back, Ava worried she wouldn’t be able to hear Malachi as she had before.

She thought she’d lost him forever. Lost that connection forever.

Bit by bit, she was taking down the wall she erected around her heart and her mind. His voice slipped through more and more often.

In that moment, his voice hummed with concern. With love. But there was a dark thread that kept coming back over and over again.

Grigori.

“Why are you thinking about the Grigori?”

“Hmm?”

“Your head keeps whispering it. Over and over. Grigori.”

“I didn’t realize. I’m sorry. Have your shields grown weak?” He put a hand on her shoulder, drew something there, and she immediately felt the surge of energy.

“Don’t do that without warning me,” she said, blinking as her heart sped.

“Sorry.”

“They were a little weak, but—”

“Your father, Ava. I was thinking about your father. I don’t understand him.”

“I know. He’s not much of a dad, but I knew that already.”

“No, I mean, he’s something…”

She turned when he stopped speaking. “What?”

“Don’t pull away. I need to feel you.” He slid his hand over her forearm to clasp her fingers. “He’s other, Ava. He’s not human. Not one hundred percent, anyway.”

“But…” She frowned. “What do you mean? I mean, we figured he had some Irin blood, so why were you thinking Grigori? He’s not… you’re not thinking—”

“Your father is not Grigori. He doesn’t smell it. Doesn’t look it. But he’s not human either.”

She paused. “It’s hard to wrap my brain around that when he’s always just been Jasper.”

“There is nothing ‘just’ about Jasper.”

“Why do you say—”

“Think about it. He’s in remarkable health, despite his lifestyle. He looks extremely young for his age.”

“And he’s a musical genius,” she said. “Rhys said a lot of Grigori offspring are gifted in music. But he’s not Grigori. You said so.”

“No.” Malachi sighed. “Rhys suspected bipolar disorder, and I’m tempted to think the same thing.”

“And my mom would agree with you. To be fair, that might have nothing to do with Irin blood. A lot of artists have the same problems he does with depression and addiction. Hell, the whole world thought I was crazy for years.”

“And you’re Irina. So what does that make him?”

“Malachi, I don’t—”

“He’s not Irin,” Malachi said, turning her so that she faced him but still holding on to her arm. “He’s not… anything I’ve ever encountered. How long were he and your mother together?”

“Awhile. Not a long while, but long for him.” Ava searched her memory. “Months, I think. A few months.” Which fit with her pattern of relationships before she’d met Malachi. Her longest relationship had been in the three-month range.

“An Irin scribe could never be with a human for that long.”

“But he’s not human, either.” She thought about the odd flashes she’d had of him. The strange scent in the air. The gold in his eyes.

“There was something,” she said. “Something new. I’ve never noticed it before, but—”

“You never knew what you were before.”