The Singer Read Online Free PDF Page A

stepped into a battle older than time.
    Damien was physically stronger, yet he held back when Sari aimed a punch at his face. His lip was split and his eye bruised, but he leashed his power, refusing to hit back. The wind whipped around them and the rain fell harder. Both were slipping in the mud, and though the humming had stopped, the chilling power had not dissipated.
    With a hoarse cry, Sari struck his knee and Damien fell with a grunt. Dropping the staff, he held out his arms in supplication, looking up at his mate with such obvious adoration that Ava felt her breath catch. Sari halted, her staff at his neck, as Damien watched her with bruised face and bleeding lips. Mud coated his hair and cheeks, the rain making tracks as he knelt before her.  
    Ava heard the woman at her right whisper something in the Old Language, just as Sari dropped her staff and went to her knees. She grasped Damien’s hair and pulled him into a searing kiss.
    They clutched each other, and Ava could hear Damien’s low groan even from up the hill. He wrapped his arms around his mate, grabbing her coat and pulling her closer, as if his life depended on her touch. Sari was just as voracious; she pulled at Damien’s neck, holding his lips to hers in a ravenous kiss. Then, just as abruptly, she shoved him back and stood, spinning around and reaching for her staff. Ava could see the tears rolling down Sari’s cheeks as her lips moved again, and she held her staff out. The piece she had given to Damien flew through the wind and melded itself to the piece in her hand.
    She marched up the hill, eyes flickering to Ava’s once before she barked out an order to the two women and walked past, up the hill and into the driving rain.
    The woman at her right turned to Ava. Rosy lips parted in a small smile. “English?”
    “American.” She glanced over her shoulder at Damien, who was still kneeling in the mud, looking as stunned as Ava felt. He finally looked at her and gave her a small nod before he struggled to his feet and walked back up the hill.
    “My name is Astrid,” the short woman said, giving Ava a small push as she began to lead her up the path. “Mala and I will escort you and Damien to Sarihöfn. You are welcome here.”
    “Am I really?”
    Astrid’s eyes held laughter, but her voice was serious. “Yes, really.”
    Damien was only a few steps behind, and Ava saw the woman named Mala nod respectfully as he fell in step beside her.
    Ava glanced at him. “So that was Sari.”
    He shrugged and wiped the blood from his lip. It had already healed. “It went as well as I’d expected.”

    “Why did you fight with her?” Ava asked from her chair in the small sitting room that connected her and Damien’s bedrooms. They’d been put into a cottage with two rooms, a small kitchen, and a bathroom they’d have to share, all situated away from the main house. She’d slept in worse.
    “Because she needed a fight.” He stepped out of the bathroom, holding a towel to his hair. “And I give my mate what she needs.”
    He was dressed in jeans and a short-sleeved T-shirt, despite the cold. Ava had noticed in the car that Damien seemed to run hot. She’d never noticed in Istanbul, but walking around in long sleeves to cover his extensive talesm must have been irritating. The tattoos reached from his collar to his wrists, with some spells even crawling down onto the backs of his hands. She knew he had them on his legs, too, though she’d never seen them. The scribe was very powerful, yet Sari had beaten him to his knees. And even though Ava knew he’d been holding back, it hadn’t been by much.
    There was a fire already burning in the grate when they’d arrived. Damien insisted that Ava get cleaned up first, then took his own shower to get rid of the caked-on mud. It was only five o’clock, but the sun was starting to disappear, sinking behind the mountains that surrounded the narrow valley.  
    “Where are we?”
    “Norway.”
    “Yeah, I