What. Just. Happened?
The last vestiges of his anger evaporated, and he shook his head in shock. How had she slain his riotous emotions so quickly? How had she made him feel so conflicted and yet so content at the same time?
He racked his brain for something to say and ended up muttering, “I thank you for the underwear, Julia.”
“You’re welcome,” she said, dropping her arm to her side. A small smile bloomed, only to fall. “I really didn’t mean to hurt you, Tristan. I—”
“I know. And it is okay,” he replied, borrowing one of her favorite words. He propped one shoulder against the door frame. Fragrant steam wafted through the small room, billowing around her like a loving caress. “I did not listen to you, leaving you with no other recourse. From now on, I will listen. You have my word.”
Her eyes widened, as round as saucers. “I…thank you.” She wet her lips with her tongue and just as before, his breath caught. How tempting it was to push her against the wall, where he would fill her with his length. Her screams of pleasure would drown the silence. And she would scream. He would make sure of it.
Tristan almost palmed the length in question. Almost. He would not lose control of his actions with a mistress, no matter how wonderful she was. He wouldn’t.
“After you bathe,” he said, “let’s talk about when we will visit this mall of yours.” He missed the excitement and revelry only a market could provide, even though he knew visiting such a place would only dredge up memories of his friends, memories that would make him long for impossible things. But more than the excitement and revelry, he desired time with Julia and hoped to make her smile again. He frothed at the mouth with eagerness to see her in whatever garments he chose for her.
Her grin slipped a little. “I’ve been thinking about that. I’d like to close the store tomorrow. I haven’t had a day off in forever. We can shop then.”
Satisfied with that, he nodded.
* * *
WHEN THE DOOR CLOSED behind Tristan, Julia sank to the edge of the tub. She never, never closed her shop. Not for sickness. Or weather. Or a broken limb. That she even suggested such a thing was shocking. But what else could she do? He’d admitted he was wrong. He’d promised to do better. He’d forgiven her! They both deserved a reward. And yet…
Tristan had no idea of the magnitude of what she’d just done.
Did she?
CHAPTER TWELVE
All Of Your Choices Must Be Based Upon
Whether Or Not They Please Your Mistress
WHEN THE MALL opened the next morning, Julia and Tristan were there, waiting at the doors. She tried not to picture the Closed sign on her shop’s front window or the customers who would knock on the glass, confused and angry, and tried to live in the moment. Because…she’d decided something else last night in the bathroom. She would find a way to break Tristan’s curse and set him free. So, she didn’t know how many moments they had left. Why not enjoy the ones they had, while they had them?
With a sigh, she strolled beside Tristan, who led her toward a chic boutique that carried only the hottest fashions. Even in jeans and a T-shirt—and hopefully briefs—he generated quite a bit of appreciation. Not that she cared. He could entice everyone he wanted with his dangerous swagger and otherworldly eyes.
Julia dug her nails into her palms as she recognized her thoughts for the lie they were. The jerk had better not be doing any enticing, not after he’d agreed to the first parameter and chased Peter away. The death glare she leveled at him contained enough heat to incinerate a small town. Surprisingly he never once stared at another woman.
By small degrees, the muscles in Julia’s body relaxed. She wasn’t jealous or anything like that; she was simply guarding her investment. Her tutor. If someone lured him away, who would give her dating etiquette lessons? No one, that’s who.
I’m pathetic.
Meanwhile, Tristan dove into their adventure with the eagerness of a teenage boy locked inside a room filled with naked, horny women. Once they reached Coco’s, he hopped from one rack to the other, tossing garments her way.
“You will try this one. And this one. And this one.” He held up a short red Band-Aid—such sheer, barely there material couldn’t be called a dress—wicked intention gleaming in his eyes. “This one will be fun to remove.”
“I’m not wearing that,” she told him with a shake of her head.
“Aye, you will. I’m in charge of your clothing, remember?”
“That’s just so…sexy. Way too sexy for someone like me.”
“Julia, Julia, Julia. There is no such thing as too sexy for you.”
A pretty but meaningless compliment, nothing more. “I need conservative clothing. I wouldn’t feel comfortable with three-fourths of my skin showing.”
He arched a brow. “Who is the expert here?”
“You are,” she grudgingly admitted. “But you’re just being nice—”
“I am never just nice.” He grabbed another slinky dress, this one a flowing, gauzy white.
Maybe he did find her attractive. She gulped, her palms beginning to sweat.
On and on he tossed clothes at her until she stumbled under the weight of it all. “I need to work out,” she muttered. “My arms are shaking from exertion.”
“This? This is nothing. I once served a woman who insisted she have at least twenty brand-new gowns to choose from each and every day,” Tristan said, as he hunted through a new rack of garments.
“Well, hel-lo there, gorgeous,” a strong, masculine voice said. “Is there anything I can help you with?”
“Thank you, yes.” Relieved, Julia craned her neck to see over her bundle. “I need these placed in a dress—”
The salesman never even glanced her way. He stared at Tristan, totally and completely transfixed. She almost laughed. She did roll her eyes in exasperation. The word “gorgeous” should have tipped her off. Men usually referred to her as “Hey, you.”
“I’m Gary,” the salesman said to Tristan. “I’ll be your personal shopper. Or anything else you want me to be.”
Gary had beautiful black hair, as fashionably tailored as his suit and cut just above his collar. He wore no jewelry save for the black onyx ring on his right index finger. Though he stood inches taller than the average man, he appeared short next to Tristan, merely reaching the Imperian’s shoulders.
He gave Tristan a full-body, I-wish-I-had-X-ray-vision once-over.
Tristan didn’t seem to notice. “We need no assistance,” he said.
“Yes, we do,” Julia spoke up. “I’m buying a hip new wardrobe maybe, probably, and I need all the help I can get.”
“Excellent, excellent.” Gary offered her the barest of glances, one that asked, Are you still here? She couldn’t blame him for his inattention. She often found herself in the same predicament whenever Tristan neared. “I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name, gorgeous,” he told Tristan.
“I did not throw it.” Tristan gripped Gary’s offered palm, studied it, then dropped it.
“Are you sure there isn’t anything I can get for you?”
“Aye. I am most sure.”
Julia doubted Tristan realized he was being hit on, and she wasn’t going to be the one to tell him. What if the people of his world hurt anyone who was gay?
No, you know what? If that was the case, she needed to know, because no one had any right to judge others about anything! As soon as they were alone, she’d start asking questions.
She told Gary, “Would you mind helping me carry these outfits into a dressing room?” At last her arms gave out, and she dropped the bundle with a whoosh. “I’d really appreciate it.”
With a wink to Tristan, he awarded her his full attention. “I’d be glad to help.” With an imperial frown, he snapped his fingers and another sales associate flew to his side. “Take these to dressing room four.”
The pretty young girl, no more than twenty-two, bent down, hefted up the clothes, then started moving away, albeit slowly.
/> “Wait!” Gary called, his tone sharp. The girl froze. With his forefinger and thumb, he pinched a white bubble-knit skirt from the top of the pile. “Your body cries out for something that elongates. Think pencil skirts and stiletto heels. Slimming black pants. Dark gray top. You’re about a size—let’s see.” He wrapped his palms around her waist, taking her measurements.
With a speed and grace at odds with his massive size, Tristan pinned the salesman against the wall, leaving the poor man’s feet dangling in the air. He appeared every inch a cold, hard killer, from the predatory gleam in his gaze to the ticking muscle in his jaw.
“There will be no touching my woman. Understand?”
Far from being frightened, Gary closed his eyes and smiled, as if he’d just entered the gates of paradise. “Possessive, are we? I like that in a man.”
“Do you understand?” Tristan demanded, enunciating every syllable.
Julia was just about to order Tristan to release the salesman, when Gary spoke again.
“Oh, yes, I understand. But what about you?” Gary cracked his eyelids open, revealing a suggestive, eager glint. “Is it permissible to touch you?”
Julia gaped, her mind a whirlwind. Why hadn’t she pulled Tristan aside to discuss the gay thing right away? Stupid, stupid, stupid. Sweat popped up on her brow as she glanced around the boutique. People were openly staring, some concerned, others filming on their cell phones. With Tristan’s warrior speed, he could slice Gary to ribbons with the dagger she’d bought him before she could utter a single word to stop him.
That! She needed to order Tristan to free the man while she still had the opportunity but… he evinced no reaction to Gary’s words. Not at first, anyway. Then he tilted his head to the side, his brow furrowing. He pursed his lips, thoughtful.
Finally, Tristan said, “You do not want Julia? You want me?”
“Correct.” Gary winked at Julia, then batted his lashes at Tristan. “Tell me my woman means my sister wherever you’re from.”
“Nay.” Tristan lowered the salesman to his feet and smoothed his jacket across the shoulders. “But I thank you for the interest.”
Relief crashed through her, one wave after another. The imminent threat of attack had passed. Everyone would live to see another day.
Undaunted, Gary simply continued on as if nothing had happened. “What about these?” He shuffled through a rack of pants and, with a flourish, swished out a silky black pair. “These will make her curves pop.”
No longer resembling a thundercloud of wrath, Tristan stroked his chin, giving the slacks a thorough inspection. “Nay. I want Julia to wear gowns. Drocs are not worthy of her curves.”
“Drocs are pants,” she translated, just loving how they were discussing her as if she weren’t standing right here.
“If that’s what you want, that’s what you shall have.” With a flick of his wrist, Gary tossed the slacks aside. “This way,” he called, sailing off. Julia followed, Tristan close at her heels. “Here you are, dear, and don’t be shy. We want to see everything you try on. Absolutely everything.”
“I’ll show you,” she said, tapping her foot as she waited for him to leave.
He got the hint. “Of course, of course.” Smiling with genuine delight, he waved one hand through the air. “I’ll just keep the big man occupied, all righty?”
Her delight far surpassed his, and she gave him a grin of her own. “I would like that, thank you. He’s not from around here, and I don’t want him wandering off, getting lost.”
Tristan opened his mouth to protest, but she slammed the door shut and clicked the lock in place, making her intent clear. No men allowed. Not even pleasure slaves.
Julia slipped out of her jeans and T-shirt. Clad only in her mismatched bra and panties—next item of business: lingerie—she stole a moment to study herself in the mirror. A single bulb hung straight above her, its bright rays unforgiving. She turned left, then right, then left again, frowning the entire time. No matter what the angle, the image did not please her. Ugh. When had she put on another ten pounds? And why did she have to like sugar and despise diets?
“Mirror, mirror on the wall,” she muttered, pivoting for a back view. Her frown deepened. For some reason, her butt seemed extra wide today, as if her fat cells had fornicated with Twinkies and spawned a thousand little babies.
Before she worked herself into a good panic about her winter body becoming her hibernating-bear body, she focused on the attributes she maybe kinda sorta admired. Her breasts were nice and far more than a handful. Would Tristan like them?
Ugh. Why did she care?
“Mayhap we should forget the gowns and leave you just as you are. No man could resist you like this.”
Heart slamming in her chest, Julia swallowed a frantic scream. Tristan stood behind the door. And, because of his immense height, he towered over it, giving him a perfect view inside the room. “What are you doing?”
Thankfully, her bra and panties covered the crucial areas. The bra and panties just didn’t cover the embarrassingly…soft areas. Still, that didn’t save her from embarrassment.
Except, when she reached for a dress to use as a shield, she noticed the fire in his eyes as he looked her over. The same fire she’d seen right before he’d kissed her.
Goose bumps broke out over her skin, feminine power going straight to her head. He found her attractive.
I might not ever wear clothes again. His admiration did things to her. Erotic things. Tingles in her naughty bits, flutters in her belly. Her heart thudded against her ribs.
He grinned, reminding Julia of a naughty toddler who’d just found a piece of fuzzy candy under the couch cushion. “I am safeguarding you. What else?”
“Peeping, that’s what.”
“Can I not do both?”
She bit her tongue to stop a snort. “I’m fine. I’ll be fine,” she said, making shooing motions with her hands. “You should go.”
The fire in his gaze blazed all the brighter, as if she’d offered him a scorching invitation and had every intention of seeing it through. “But you do have need of me, little dragon, I can tell,” he said softly. Peering at her puckered nipples, lifting the fabric of her bra, he flicked his tongue over an incisor. “One day soon I will prove it to you.”
Ohhhh. She hadn’t issued an invitation. She’d issued a challenge, and he’d accepted. Why was that so sexy? “Wh-where’s Gary?”
Watching her, he drummed his fingertips atop the door ledge. “Mayhap I should do to you what I did to him.”
A gasp slithered out of her throat. The hard slash of his brows had her picturing severed limbs and blood-soaked wood floors. “You didn’t kill Gary, did you?”
Only silence greeted her, causing her veins to crystallize with ice.
“Tristan, please tell me you didn’t kill him.”
“I won him over,” he said with a slow grin.
Oh. Ohhhh. A cool tide of relief swept through her, only to fade when she recalled the state of her undress, her arousal flaring anew. Once again, she shooed him away. If he stayed, she might do something foolish and make a move on him. “Ladies dressing room. No men allowed. You get it. Goodbye.”
“During your lessons,” he said, staying put, “I am in charge, my word law. Buying new clothes is lesson one. That means right now, you obey me. And I wish to stay.”
Balls! He had her there. She couldn’t break another “parameter.” Being desperate, she had only one option available. Her gaze imploring, she said, “Please, Tristan. I’m begging you. Go find Gary.”
Tristan stiffened, eyed her with a riotous emotion she couldn’t identify; maybe she didn’t want to identify it. She suspected she’d just glimpsed a pain so deep he never should have survived.
“Are you okay?” Concern swamped her as she closed what distance between them. When she stopped, only the width of the door kept their chests from touching. She clasped the warmth of his hand within her own. “What’s wrong? You’re so pale.”
“Of course I did.” What did that have to do with anything? Exasperated, she gave him a stern, no-nonsense glare. “Will you please just go?”
Without another word, he turned and stalked away.
Urgency plagued her as she tried on her clothes and struggled to forget Tristan’s delicious ogling or odd reaction to her pleading.
When she finished, she picked her top ten favorites, then swiped several pairs of slacks from a nearby rack and rushed to pay. Despite Tristan’s hopes to the contrary, “drocs” were sometimes necessary. She sidled up to the register. She was just accepting her change when Tristan approached, Gary close behind him.
She gave the salesman a quick glance—he was still all smiles—then focused her attention on Tristan. “I’d like to hit a few more stores before we head home.” She’d taken the day off, and she was going to get all of her shopping done one way or another.
“Very well.” With deliberate leisure, he rested his hip against the counter and leaned his face toward hers. “But you are not to beg me again. Understand?”
Julia swiped a stray tendril of hair from her eyes. “Why?”
A muscle jumped beneath his eye. “You should not have to beg for anything. Ever. If you do, I’ll spank you.”
Why, why, why did her pulse leap with excitement? “Just try it, tough guy, and you’ll finally get a lesson in karate.”
He snort-laughed. “I must admit, I am growing more and more intrigued by this karate of yours. Do you, mayhap, practice the sport naked?”
“Only on rainy days,” she replied, her tone dry. “Now let’s go.” Laden down with sacks, they visited three more shops, buying shoes and accessories and yes, slinky lingerie, which she bought while Tristan was distracted with the “amazing delicacies” found at the food court. Meaning yes, he ate corn dogs, french fries and cake pops.
No matter where they went, he hovered over her. She needed protecting, he said, and therefore he would be protecting her, end of story. If a man glanced her way in a manner remotely unfriendly, friendly, kind, or hostile, her charming, playful companion morphed into a demon from hell. He scowled. Growled. Clenched his fists.
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