by Amy Ravenel
The White Lady pulled at his energy, slow and deliberate. This was it. She wasn’t going to wait for Friday. Bit by bit, her body solidified.
Ice filled every part of Tristan’s body. His arms and legs were limp. Was she going to suck him dry instead of throwing him out the window? His vision blackened at the edges.
“If you’re going to do it, just do it.”
20
Her breath escaped her lungs when McKenna raced into the apartment. Tristan’s head was a couple of inches from the ceiling, the ghost’s hand at his throat. He hung there like a dead wind-up toy. The ghost glowed, but her body was still transparent. McKenna searched for Tristan’s emotions. The dullness of resignation came back to her. No! He couldn’t give up.
Salt! She needed salt. Her feet moved into action. The light from the hallway streamed in through the open door, giving her enough to see. Her hands searched the kitchen, hitting the sharp edge of every corner. Cabinet doors squeaked open and slammed shut as she hunted for the one household tool she knew would chase The White Lady away. She crumpled the top of a bag. Bringing it into the light, she made out the S and the A. Perfect!
She tore it open and reached inside. Small rocks sifted through her fingers. She clutched a handful and threw it at the ghost. Her aim was true. The ghost screamed. Tristan tumbled to the ground, landing with a loud thud. McKenna threw more salt at The White Lady. The ghost broke in half and disappeared, wisps of white trailing behind her.
The lights blinked on as the air in the room warmed.
McKenna set the bag on the table, her hands shaking. She took a deep breath as she tried to steady her racing heart. She swayed a little as the adrenaline left. The nearby chair invited her to sit down, but she fought the urge. She still didn’t know if Tristan was all right.
Tristan groaned. She ran to him and lightly tapped his cheeks. His eyes were open, but they were staring at nothing. “Tristan? Can you hear me?”
She felt for an emotion, any emotion. There, faintly, was a flicker of resignation. Then relief and gratefulness pushed it aside. McKenna grabbed Tristan’s chin, forcing him to look at her. “Tristan, please.”
Confusion seeped in. He slowly blinked as the color came back into his face. His skin was freezing. McKenna retrieved a blanket from his bed, draping it over his shoulders. She wrapped her arms around him, her hands rubbing his upper arms.
Her heart rate slowed down as she watched the life return to those soft green eyes. Eyes that focused on her. She sank to the floor, all of her fears floating away.
“Oh, thank God. Your color is coming back,” she breathed. He was alive, whole.
Tristan licked his lips. “You got rid of the ghost with salt?” His voice cracked.
“A temporary solution. She’ll be back, but it won’t be for a while. What happened?” Concentrate on him. Get him to talk. Don’t dwell on the image of Tristan half dead in The White Lady’s grip.
“Don’t know.” He licked his dry lips again. “Was looking at the hair bow and she showed up.” He struggled to move, but McKenna held him still. “Could use something to drink and eat.”
McKenna relaxed. He was all right. He was going to be fine. “I’ll take care of it. You just lay there.”
He gave her a lazy thumbs-up. “That I can do.”
She reluctantly pulled away from him, closed the front door, and walked into the kitchen. Resting her hands on the small counter, she took a deep breath. And another. What if she hadn’t come by? What if the door hadn’t been unlocked? The mere thought of Tristan dead cut through her. Her hands shook. Raking them through her hair, she continued to pull in a breath of air and let it go. He was fine. He was whole. He was alive.
Food. It would keep her mind off Tristan almost dying. Cabinets creaked open and thumped closed as she gathered ingredients for a meal. He didn’t have much in his apartment, but she did find bacon and eggs in the refrigerator. Her grandmother used to make her breakfast for dinner when she’d had a bad day. Today certainly qualified.
She took off her jacket and draped it over the nearest chair. Pulling her hair back into a ponytail, she went to work.
Tristan broke the quiet. “Why are you here? Did we have a date?”
“No. I wanted to come by and see what you found out about the hair bow.” The bacon sizzled on the griddle. “I called first, but your phone was dead.” Stick to the facts. Don’t think about the dread that settled in your stomach, she told herself.
Tristan grunted. She glanced over to see him push to his feet. It took a moment for him to stand without swaying. “Weird.” He picked up the phone. “It had half a charge when I got home.”
“The ghost must have drained it.” More sizzling as the rich, savory smell of bacon filled the air.
Tristan wrapped the blanket tighter around his shoulders as he walked into the kitchen. “Breakfast for dinner?”
McKenna’s mouth turned upwards. “It’s comfort food for me.”
“Can I help?” His voice was stronger, richer. Calm and determination filled the air between them. He felt more like Tristan. The ghost must not have taken as much as McKenna had thought.
It felt good to laugh. “No. Go sit down on the couch and rest. I’ll bring you something to drink in a minute.”
He shuffled over to couch, his shoes swishing against the hardwood floor. She chewed on her bottom lip as she watched him go. He must not have had time to take them off.
She poured a glass of Pepsi and set it down on the coffee table. “So Lily recognized her bow?”
Tristan tossed his shoes onto the floor. “She did. I guess she decided I was officially one of her killers if I had it. She was pretty pissed about it.” He sipped the cold drink.
“That would explain why she was trying to kill you ahead of schedule.” McKenna went back to the kitchen.
“Unfortunately, no one else at the college recognized it.”
She cracked an egg. “Or someone is lying.” The yolk plopped into a bowl. “You talked to everybody?”
“Except for Dr. Cameron. He won’t be back until tomorrow. But I think he might know something about it.”
McKenna slid the finished bacon onto a plate and started cooking a few more strips. “Why do you think that?” She cracked another egg and whisked the yolk in the bowl.
“Dr. Knight mentioned something that made me think so.” Tristan stretched out across the couch as he pulled his shirt out of his pants. Heat rose in McKenna’s cheeks as she thought about his pants. “What about you? Any luck on Lily herself?”
“No.” McKenna yanked her thoughts back to the case. She scrunched her nose. She had spent the whole day trying to piece the girl’s life together but didn’t get far. “No one in her family called me back, even after I left several messages. Her old roommate Sarah did, though. I’m driving out to see her tomorrow.”
“Need some back up?” Tristan offered.
McKenna scrambled the eggs. “No, you have to talk to Dr. Cameron, remember?”
“Oh, yeah.” He rapped his knuckles on the side of his head. “Brain is fuzzy after having a ghost pulling it out of me.”
“I understand.” The memory of having her insides turned outside was fresh in her mind.
She finished cooking a few minutes later. She handed Tristan a plate and sat beside him with one of her own. He shoveled eggs into his mouth. Her heart soared. He really was going to be all right.
“These are fantastic!” he said around a mouthful. “Could use some ketchup, though.”
She rolled her eyes before grabbing the ketchup and bringing it back to him. Yeah, he was going to be all right. She just wanted him to stay that way.
“I think you should come home with me tonight,” she said after a few bites.
Tristan’s eyes twinkled. “Maybe you should stay here.”
She felt his interest and smiled. “I mean for your protection.”
Tristan set down his plate and scooted closer to her. “We can do both.” He took the plate
out of her hands, setting it on the coffee table. He tucked her hair behind her ear. Bending down, his teeth nipped at her neck.
She laughed as she pushed against his chest. He didn’t budge an inch. “I’d feel better if we were at my place. Lily seems hyper focused on you right now. If I had lost…” Her throat closed as she thought about the scene she walked into.
“Hey.” Tristan cradled her jaw. “I’m okay. You saved me. I’m okay.”
“I know.” She tried to get her emotions under control. “But I’d still like you to come home with me.”
A smile slid across his sexy mouth. “Okay. Let me pack a bag.”
McKenna fumbled with her apartment key. Her skin flushed with heat, and her hands shook with nerves. Was she really doing this? Seeing Tristan near death brought home the fact she may not have another chance to be with him, especially since he didn’t want to move out of his place. But initiating was a whole new thing. She was reserved when it came to relationships. She had a tendency to date and draw the relationship out. She kept her powers a secret until her boyfriend found out she could read their emotions. The relationships usually ended at that point.
Her keys slipped from her hands, jangling as they hit the ground. She took a deep breath and rested her palm on the door, willing herself to calm down. Tristan already knew about her empathy. Even though he denied his own abilities, he never once shied away from hers. After all, he understood what it was like to be different. The moment was right. This relationship, flirtation, or undefined feelings they had felt right. She was thinking too much.
She picked up her keys and stuck the right one in the lock. Tristan’s strong arms enveloped her. She warmed at his touch as he cradled her hands in his. “Need help?”
The lock clicked. They stumbled into the apartment, shut the door. McKenna pushed Tristan against it and crushed her mouth to his. Every part of her body tingled as she drank him in. Her hands fisted in his curls. He dropped his bag on the floor.
She came up for air. “You’re not sleeping down here this time.” She barely registered Oscar’s meow of protest as she dragged Tristan up the stairs.
A rush of excitement made its way up her spine like a white-hot lightning bolt. Tristan’s breath was hot on her neck. His tongue stroked her neck as his hands reached under her shirt. “Your clothes are in my way,” he mumbled. He pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it on the stairs. Her bra soon followed. She gasped as he cupped her breasts and caressed them. She leaned into him and moaned. Laughter bounced off the walls as she pulled him into the bedroom.
She took his mouth again. Spicy cinnamon danced on her tongue. She craved the taste, and pressed her body against his. She pulled back, grabbing his shirt. “This is in my way.” Her fingers undid the buttons, but it was forever before she peeled off the shirt. Her eyes widened at the muscles underneath. Not what she expected from a bookish history teacher. She traced the bends and curves. She had to see more. Her hands tugged on his pants.
His eyes sparkled as his lips curved into a smile. McKenna unhooked the button and slid them off. More clothes followed. She pushed him onto her bed and straddled him. His fingers tangled in her hair, pulled and teased. His burning lust echoed inside her mind and her heart.
McKenna tossed her head back and laughed. Bending over, she nibbled on his neck. She cupped all of him and stroked. His back arched as a moan escaped his lips. She trailed kisses down his chest and stomach. He trembled under her touch.
Tristan flipped her over, her back pressing into the soft mattress. She bit her lip, wondering what his next move would be. His curls brushed her face as he nibbled at her neck, drawing a moan from her throat as his lips and teeth toyed with the thin flesh. He growled, a low rumbled in his chest.
Taking her face in his hands, he brought her lips to his. Her lips slightly parted, welcoming him in. She melted in his arms. Everything disappeared in that moment—the ghost, the fear, all of it. All that mattered was the man in her arms. She dropped her walls, letting his emotions flood through her. Lust, love, want, confidence. They washed over her, drowning her in him.
Goosebumps prickled her skin. Her whole body tingled as her breath quickened. Her legs parted, welcoming him. He caressed her stomach, his touch light and soft. He traveled down, tracing her curves. He took a breast in his mouth, his tongue playing with the nipple. Heat raced over her body as he moved to the other breast.
She wrapped her arms and legs around him, hanging on for dear life. He slid inside, the movement becoming a rhythm. She followed the beat, clutching his curls. The beat rocked faster. She vibrated, tingles becoming intense. She climbed to the edge, hardly able to catch her breath. His name fell from her lips as each dive brought her closer and then tipped her over. Her eyes rolled back into her head. Her body shuddered as her heart quickened. Intense desire washed over her, doubling in force.
She focused on Tristan, drops of sweat on his brow. His eyes were the most vibrant green slits. They closed as he emptied into her. His need joined hers, and she had no doubt about how he felt. Love and lust drifted from him in a heated wave. She brushed his hair back, and he opened his eyes.
She snuggled in the crook of his neck while he played with her hair. Every one of her muscles relaxed. She could hardly move. Sighing, she pressed into him.
“I like you when you lose control,” McKenna said.
Tristan chuckled. “Maybe I should lose control more often.”
Between his steady heartbeat and the heat of his skin, she drifted off to sleep.
21
Tristan awoke to an empty bed. He rolled over, breathing in the salty scent of the ocean. He smiled as he remembered the night before. He wanted to do it again, but the woman was nowhere to be found. Groaning, he glanced at the clock through bleary eyes, amazed he was awake so early. He rose up on his elbows to see the judgmental green eyes of McKenna’s large gray and white cat.
“Morning, Oscar.” The cat stretched out his head and allowed Tristan to pet him. He stroked the soft fur before peeling back the covers.
The warm, buttery smell of pancakes greeted him as he trudged downstairs. He found McKenna standing in the kitchen, flipping cakes on the griddle. Her hair tangled at the ends, and her faded blue t-shirt had small holes in it. She looked like a goddess. Sneaking behind her, he wrapped his arms around her waist. She giggled.
“I’m getting another home cooked meal?” he asked.
“As long as you don’t mind breakfast food again. Breakfast is my specialty.” McKenna gave him a quick kiss on the lips.
“I think I can live with that.”
This time, they sat at the table. Tristan drenched his stack of pancakes in syrup and savored the first gooey, sweet bite. “Best I’ve ever had.”
McKenna smirked at him. “I bet you wouldn’t say that to your mother.”
Tristan popped in another bite. “Not if I value my life.”
She studied him while she munched her breakfast. “Tristan, I have a theory about you.”
“A theory?” Tristan froze in mid-chew. Her tone had a ‘we need to talk’ vibe. He sat back and carefully finished eating.
“Yeah, a theory.” She sipped from her coffee mug. Leaning back in her chair, she continued, “I think you can control your powers better than you think you can.”
Tristan set down his knife and fork. He swallowed the first flash of anger. No use in getting defensive. “Where did you get that idea?”
McKenna smiled. “It’s something I’ve been thinking about since you found the bow.”
Tristan raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. He rubbed the back of his neck. Change the subject. Talk about the weather. Compliment her pajamas. Anything!
McKenna continued. “You found the bow using your powers.” She pointed at him with her fork. “You saw Lily in your office. Yet, you didn’t lose control, not like you did at the apartment. You can do it on instinct.”
Tristan’s appetite vanished. Discussing his powers was something h
e definitely didn’t want to do after the fantastic night they had had together. Distract her, he thought, but his mind was blank. He tore tiny pieces off the top layer of his pancakes. “Yeah, I can only do it for a little bit, though.” Admitting that was harder than he thought, especially since he didn’t want to acknowledge anything about his powers. His right leg started to bounce under the table. “I try to keep my shields up all the time, but sometimes, past events sneak in, and I can’t stop them. But they come in bits and pieces so I guess they don’t overwhelm me.” He shifted. “Can we talk about something else?”
McKenna moved her chair closer to him. “You get scared when you drop your shields all the way.” She touched his arm. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore.”
“Mac, I put my cousin in the hospital.” His jaw twitched.
She sighed. “Is that the only time you lost control?”
He wiped his sticky hands. “No. It happened the first time when I was eleven.”
“And you’ve carried that with you for fourteen years. I think if you practice with me, you could learn enough control to see something.” She touched his cheek, turning his head.
Tristan jerked away. “I bruised you and kicked Kayla, Drew, and Tabitha. It’s too dangerous.”
She straightened. “Doesn’t matter. I brought you back. Together, we can do this.”
Tristan pushed away from the table and sprang to his feet. “I know, but what if you’re not there the next time?” He gripped the back of the chair. “My focus is terrible. I can’t see what I want. I can only see what it wants to show me.” His knuckles whitened.
McKenna jumped up. “It’s not an ‘it.’ Not a separate entity. It’s you, a part of you. A part of you that you can learn to control. Why are you fighting me on this?”
Tristan knocked the chair forward. It hit the edge of the table with a loud thwack. Everything inside him told him to run, and he listened. He grabbed his bag from the couch. “I’ve got to go. I’ll be late. What do I do if Dr. Cameron knows anything?”