Page 53 of The Storm
They’d handed off the car in the village. Zana and Thawra would be taking it for the summer while Max and Renata stayed at Ciasa Fatima.
“Cappadocia?” asked Renata. “Not Istanbul?”
“It was a popular decision. Evin is finished with her first school term. Orsala wanted to work more closely with Thawra, and the brothers in the library there heard we had the world’s best carpenter in our employ. They built an addition on the library and need bookcases to fit the caves. They were willing to pay handsomely for the work, so it seemed like perfect timing.”
“And Thawra can have the baby surrounded by Irina healers,” Renata said. “That will make the birth more comfortable.”
“And the scribes can teach Zana the spells he’ll need for the child. So you see? A summer in Cappadocia will be warm but will suit everyone.” He put an arm around her waist and pulled her close. “Particularly me.”
Renata smiled and kissed him. “I’m just glad Zana hasn’t bought goats yet.”
“Chickens are the only things we have to keep alive. And the vegetable garden.”
“So you’re going to be a farmer for the summer?”
He raised his eyebrows. “I’m always up for a challenge.”
“You better be with a mate like me.” She ducked under his arm and raced across the meadow, leaping over the new fences that Zana had built and up onto the porch that no longer creaked.
Max tackled her just as she got the door open. He threw her over his shoulder and dropped his backpack.
“The chickens can wait.” He slapped her backside. “I need to claim my woman.”
“You know, it’s a good thing I packed my knives away, or I’d carve my mating vow into your ass.” She slapped it for emphasis, but she was lying. She would never mar Maxim’s ass. It would be a crime against heaven.
“You’d never do it,” Max said as they walked up the stairs. “You like it too much.”
The house smelled of lemon oil and pine. Thawra would have aired it out and made it ready for them before they left. There were flowers in their bedroom, and the windows let in the clear mountain air.
Max set her down and stood staring over her shoulder with his mouth agape. “Heaven above.”
“What?” Renata turned from the windows and noticed the bed.
It was a work of art. The formerly rustic wooden bed had been carved with an intricate pattern of stars and flowers. Shining mother-of-pearl inlay decorated each star, the flowers were brightly painted, and darker woods were mixed into the pattern, giving the entire headboard stunning dimension. It was clearly inspired by Syrian design, but the flowers carved into the lattice were the bright yellow, purple, and orange flowers that grew in the meadow in front of the house.
“Oh, Maxim.”
“What a gift he has,” Max said. “And what a mating gift for us.”
Renata smiled. “If you ruin this bed, Maxim, I will never forgive you.”
He huffed. “That was a hotel bed in Copenhagen, and I can’t believe you’re still bringing it up.”
“Still.” She walked over and dragged him to the new sofa by the window. “Maybe we better start on a slightly less valuable piece of furniture.”
“If you insist.” Max dragged Renata’s shirt over her head and tossed it out the open window. “You won’t be needing that for the next few weeks.”
“What if I get cold?” The mountain air hit her skin, but she could never be cold looking at Max naked.
As he was becoming. As quickly as possible.
“I’ll warm you up,” he said. “What are mates for?”
* * *
Renata closedher eyes and gave in to the poetry of his brush on her skin. The dark henna started at the nape of her neck and traveled down her spine, spells her body would capture and hold on to as Maxim made his vow. She sat in the flicker of firelight, cross-legged in the house where she’d been born, waiting for her mate to finish the magic that would tie them together.
“I searched through the storm,” he said in a low voice, “and I found you.
