by Kristie Cook
“Do you like it?”
“I don’t know.” I continued running my fingers through it. “It is sexy.”
His eyebrows waggled, and a smile played on his lips. “Maybe I should have left it longer.”
I remembered seeing him—when I thought he was a delusion—standing in the park, long hair whipping in the breeze. “What happened to it?”
“I pulled it into a ponytail and cut it off to a more reasonable length. I hope you’ll finish the job for me.”
I snorted. “You want me to cut your hair? No way.”
“So you do like it?”
“That’s not exactly what I meant. I mean, I guess I like it. You kind of look like the Tristan in Legends of the Fall.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Him again?”
I smiled, also recalling the conversation many years ago. “Yeah, but . . .”
His eyes narrowed, and he cocked his head to the side. “But what?”
“But you also look like you belong on the front of a romance novel.”
He threw his head back with laughter. “Okay, it’s definitely coming off then.”
“Well, I’m not doing it. I have no idea how to cut hair, and I’m not ruining it.” But I did have an idea. “You want to feel something incredible?”
“I have you in my arms. What could feel more incredible than this?”
“Hmm . . . you’re right. It can wait.” I leaned my head against his chest.
“You have me curious now.”
With a grin, I rolled out of his arms and retrieved my brush. I knelt behind him on the bed and brushed his hair, slowly and gently.
“Mmm . . . you’re right. It’s almost as good as foreplay,” he said with a shudder.
I chuckled. “I never thought about it like that. Of course, I guess if you were doing it . . . well, any touch from you is like foreplay.”
“Really? You’re that easy, huh?” He trailed his fingertips up and down my calf, the electric current giving me goose bumps. I squirmed from the tickle.
“Only for you,” I said softly, kissing his ear.
I ran my fingers through his hair again, and it felt soft and silky, like Dorian’s. I smoothed the strands down and gathered them all into a ponytail, then yanked on it to pull him back against me. I draped my arms around his broad shoulders, and he clasped my hand over his heart again.
“Thank you for coming back,” I murmured. Like earlier, it didn’t sound like enough, but I felt the need to tell him anyway.
“I’m sorry I ever left,” he replied quietly, and I wondered if he had felt a similar need to tell me that. The apology was good to hear, to be honest. Because there had been times I’d wondered over the years, when I dwelled in my darker hours, if he’d known exactly how bad it would be and went anyway. And, in my darkest of dark hours, if he had purposely left, his assignment with me finished.
“Me, too,” I whispered. A tear slid down my face and dropped onto his bare shoulder.
“Don’t cry, my love. We’re together now.”
I wiped my wet cheek against his hair. “Forever this time?”
“Forever. I promise.”
I rested my chin on his shoulder, our cheeks pressed together, and closed my eyes. I breathed in his delicious scent and was reminded of motorcycle rides to Gasparilla Island when we first got together. I felt like I could sit here with him forever, never having to let go again. But then that strange, burning sensation started coursing through my veins and muscles. The energy began to build again, and I tried to fight it. My body wanted to move, but my heart didn’t.
Tristan finally broke the silence and made the first move to get up. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”
I shrugged. “Not really. I actually feel like going for a run or something.”
“You need to eat. And then I will give you a workout,” he said with a smile.
“Oh, yeah? You planning to restart my Aikido lessons?”
“Hmm . . . I guess I could. But . . .” He bent his head down to mine and ran his mouth over my jaw and neck. “. . . I was thinking of a different kind of workout.”
“Ah, even better.”
We went out to the kitchen to find something to eat. Guilt stabbed my heart when I saw the package of steaks on a plate in the refrigerator.
“I should cook those for you and Owen tonight,” I said. “I owe him.”
“Were you two planning a special dinner?” Tristan asked, raising an eyebrow.
I frowned and made myself busy, pulling meat, cheese, and mustard out of the refrigerator to avoid his eyes. “The pretense was a celebration for finishing the last book, but I really just wanted him to go to the store and away from here long enough so I could leave last night.”
I felt him eyeing me. “What were you thinking anyway?”
“About our son,” I said as I started making sandwiches. “And my mom. I needed to save my family. When you went to the Daemoni, they left us alone until now. I thought if I went to them, they would leave the others alone. And, well, I thought about you, too,” I admitted. “I thought maybe we could be together again. If my family would be safe, then I’d rather be in their hell with you than in my own hell alone.”
He sighed heavily. “I’m sorry I made you so miserable.”
I finally looked up at him, holding the mustard-covered knife in the air and jabbing it with emphasis. “You didn’t make me miserable. Your absence did.”
He stepped behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. “I know what you mean, my love. Life is nothing without you.”
“Exactly.”
I finished the sandwiches and handed him one and half of mine. I really didn’t feel hungry; my stomach felt too knotted to eat. The phone rang as we finished, and I ran into the bedroom to grab it.
“Hi, Mom,” I answered, falling backwards onto the bed.
“You sound good,” she said.
“You don’t. You sound tired.”
“Fourteen hours of air travel and another two on land and sea with a six-year-old is exhausting.”
“Sheesh, where are you? I thought you were just going to a safe house.”
“No, we came to Rina’s. We just arrived. I wanted to see how you were before I hit the hay.”
“I’m great. I really couldn’t be any better.”
“How are you feeling? Tristan said you were hurt pretty badly.”
“I’m fine. Everything’s healed up perfectly.”
“How’s Tristan?”
“Beautiful. Sweet. Here.”
“Does he seem . . . okay?” Worry filled the question. Her concern came clearly across the thousands of miles separating us.
“Yeah, he’s fine, Mom. Actually, more than fine. He’s absolutely divine.” Even through the phone, Mom’s chuckle sounded hollow, empty of humor. “Why?”
“I don’t know. I’m just concerned about him . . . and you. We don’t know what they’ve done to him. I’m sure they’ve left something behind.”
“Well, there are some . . . residual . . . effects. But it’s not anything we can’t work through. He loves us. He loves me. We’ll be okay.”
She sighed and apparently accepted my assessment because she changed the subject back to me. “How are you doing? Anything going on with you?”
“If you’re referring to any changes, I don’t think so. Of course, I’ve been a little preoccupied. We’re going to be fine, Mom. I think we should leave tomorrow to meet you and get Dorian.”
She didn’t answer at first. “That’s not a good idea. Not until you’re done with the Ang’dora.”
“But Tristan and Dorian—”
“Dorian’s safety is exactly what I’m worried about. Just because Tristan’s back doesn’t mean anything else has changed.”
I sighed. “I’m just excited for them to finally meet.”
“I know, honey. But we have to be sure . . . about both of you. I’ll be there in a couple days, though. And I guess, in the meantime, you be c
areful. If something happens, Owen’s there to help.”
I wondered if she meant to help with me, with Tristan, or with the Daemoni. Too much danger surrounded us, and she was right about keeping Dorian away.
“Yeah, of course,” I said.
“We need to get to bed, but Rina wants to make sure you tell Tristan to begin working on the plan. He’ll know what she means.” She paused, and I heard what sounded like Rina speaking to her in the background. “Dorian wants to talk to you.”
“You didn’t tell him about Tristan, did you?”
“No, honey. That’s your surprise. I wouldn’t ruin it.”
“Thanks, Mom. You’re the best. I love you.”
“I know you do. And it’s nice to hear you so happy again. Hold on a sec while I get Dorian.”
I motioned to Tristan to come lay next to me, putting my finger to my mouth. We’d already agreed he shouldn’t “meet” Dorian on the phone, but he could listen. We lay on the bed, our heads close together, the phone between us.
“Hey, Mom!” Dorian said. Tristan squeezed my hand as soon as he heard our son’s voice. My own heart soared when I heard it. Just last night, I thought I never would again.
“Hey, little man. How are you?”
“I’m great! Do you know where we are?” he asked, wonder filling his voice, as if he’d never been anywhere so cool.
“Tell me.”
He told us all about Rina’s ginormous rock house with the fires everywhere, even on the walls, and about the planes and the pretty flight attendants and the movies and everything else he could think of, moving from subject to subject without interruption, barely pausing to breathe. Tristan beamed by the time Dorian finished.
“Mom, when will I see you again?” he asked, the enthusiasm replaced by longing. “I miss you. A lot.”
“I miss you so much, too, little man,” I said. “But I don’t know when. Soon, though. And when you do, I’ll have a really big surprise for you.”
I waited for him to gush about getting a dog for his upcoming birthday, not ever expecting the bigger and better surprise we had in store for him.
“Did you find Dad?”
What? Tristan and I stared at each other wide-eyed, mouths open. How does he know?
“Dorian, why would you say that?” I finally asked.
“Because you left in his car, and you’ve been gone a long time, and now you’re really happy.”
I couldn’t answer him. Tears filled my eyes, and Tristan’s eyes were moist, too.
“Mimi says I have to go to bed now, Mom. I love you.”
“I love you, too, little man.”
I snapped the phone shut, and we laughed and cried in amazement.
“I told you he’s smart,” I said, “but that blew me away.”
“He’s unbelievable . . . even better than I ever imagined,” Tristan said wistfully. Then his lips spread into the really fabulous smile, the one that always made my heart melt and the rest of my insides turn to mush. “I think we need to try for that little girl.”
He rolled over and pinned me on the bed, kissing my neck and my chest and . . . lower. Good thing we hadn’t dressed—our clothes would have been shredded in renewed desperation. When his eyes blazed again and he seemed to be losing control, I just had to tell him I loved him to bring him out of it. Our love served as the antidote to whatever lurked beneath his surface, whatever they’d planted in his subconscious.
We lasted slightly longer this time—long enough to break the bed in the middle, creating a bowl I had to climb out of.
“I liked that bed,” I said regretfully. “It was . . . comforting.”
“There are two more just like it in this house.”
I didn’t expect him to understand. While I lay on that bed, sobbing while savoring our memories, I finally started climbing out of my dark pit. It was almost symbolic, having to climb out of the pit of the broken bed.
“We’re staying in this room, at least.”
“Well, help me move the beds. Or I can ask Owen?” He grinned.
My eyes widened. “Oh, no. I’ll do it. That’d be too embarrassing.”
He laughed. “Not for me.”
Men, I thought with a shake of my head. Then I thought about Vanessa seeing this and knew I would feel the same way.
Tristan didn’t really need help moving the beds. Although he probably could have lifted them with one hand, he didn’t bother. He simply used his power, making me wonder if I would ever be able to do the same. He said telekinesis was a basic power, and even the weakest of our kind could move a bed. Then he said I would be so powerful, I would probably be able to move skyscrapers if I wanted. I laughed at the absurdity.
“Maybe we need to get a rock house like Rina’s,” I said, rubbing my hand over all the dents in the wall above the new headboard. I laughed. “You think that’s why she has a rock house?”
“From what I’ve heard about Rina, I wouldn’t be surprised. I hear you come by it naturally.” His eyes danced in jest.
“Oh, I see. Now I know the real reason you came looking for me all those years ago,” I teased.
“Nah, it’s just a nice little bonus.” He gave my butt a smack. “But I don’t think Rina’s house is what you’re picturing. She lives in the ancient Amadis mansion, made of marble and limestone.”
I envisioned Rina in her fancy dresses, gliding around an impressively large, resplendent house of marble. “Ah, that fits better.”
“I do like Dorian’s description, though.” He flopped down on the new bed. It moaned in protest. “Even if we have a rock house, it won’t help the furniture.”
“No, it won’t. We’ll have to figure something out, or the kids will be wondering why we need a new bed all the time. And can you imagine when they’re older? They’ll be mortified.”
“They’ll hate us for having such a great sex life,” he said, and we both laughed. He pulled me onto the bed, and we lay in each other’s arms. Just one day earlier I would have never guessed I could be so happy again. And here he was, my sun pushing the darkness away and lighting up my life once again. Discussing the future with him—including a daughter—was priceless.
Chapter 11
“What. The. Hell. Were. You. Thinking?” Owen fumed as soon as he walked in the door that evening.
I backed away from him, until my back pressed against the counter. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry? Alexis, do you have any idea how I felt when I came back and you were gone? Do you know what Rina and the council would have done to me if . . . if . . .” He couldn’t finish. “And Sophia . . . she would’ve killed me.”
“I’m sorry,” I repeated with deepest sincerity. “I know I took advantage of you. And I understand if you never trust me again. I thought I was doing what was best.”
“And exactly what did you think was best?”
“Surrender to the Daemoni so they would leave everyone else alone.” Both Owen and Tristan groaned. “They want me. Not Mom. Not Rina. And not Dorian. But they’ll go after everyone for me. And I knew you’d never just let me go.”
“Of course not! That was incredibly stupid. And if Tristan hadn’t been there, you’d be in the Daemoni’s hands—or dead—and he’d be here. How do you think all of us would feel about that?”
I couldn’t answer, knowing how horrible the consequences would have been for them. I just stared at the floor, which swam through the tears I blinked back.
So he turned on Tristan. “And if you could have let her know you were okay, she wouldn’t have gone in the first place.”
“I know. I take full responsibility for it,” Tristan replied gruffly. “But you shouldn’t have left her. What were you thinking?”
Owen raised his eyebrows at Tristan’s accusing tone and went on such a rampage, I never would have thought him capable of it. He threw his hands in the air as he advanced on Tristan.
“What was I thinking? I was thinking she could stay put for ten minutes and keep herself safe. I
was thinking she’d been through hell the last seven-and-a-half years, and she actually wanted to celebrate something for the first time since. I was thinking I saw a glimpse of the old Alexis who no one has seen since that day we left her at the damn safe house begging you not to go. I was thinking I didn’t want to disappoint her, even with such a little thing, after all the big disappointments she’s had to suffer.”
“Ah! Like me leaving her? Of not being able to get back because I sat in my own hell?” Tristan leaned forward, their faces less than a foot apart. His voice rose. “Say it, Owen. Say it like it is. It’s my fault she suffered. Say what you’re thinking!”
“That’s not what I’m thinking,” Owen bellowed, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “It’s my fault. I didn’t bring you back to her. I didn’t keep you safe. I had to come back and tell her I thought you were dead. And ever since, I’ve had to see her misery, hear her screaming in her sleep from the other side of the house, watch her fall apart at the seams, and know it’s my fault. I’ve had to look at her and know she wished I’d been the one who didn’t come back.”
I stared at him, my eyes wide with disbelief and confusion. How had he twisted it into this?
“Owen, stop it.” I tried to put emotion behind the words so he would hear me and come to his senses, but my voice sounded small over the lump in my throat. He ignored me, still glaring at Tristan.
“You don’t know what it’s like to have her look at you and feel like you’re the person who made her whole world fall apart.”
“I do know what it’s like,” Tristan barked. “I’ve watched it for the last week!”
Owen’s jaw dropped. “A week? You’ve been back a week and made her go through that? Do you have any idea just how bad this week has been for her?”
“No, I don’t fully know. But you have no idea what it’s been like for me. To see you be the one who can take care of her . . . to see you at the park with my wife, playing with my son, because I don’t know if I’ll be overcome with the urge to kill them!” Tristan pounded the counter, adding yet another crack to the granite. I felt like he’d hit me, like I’d been punched in the gut with his words.