Ambrosia (Nectar Trilogy, Book 2)

by Prince, DD

  He took a shower and Kyla purposely waited until he was done to get hers and when she was out of the bathroom, Tristan had their bags in hand and motioned for the door.

  “I need coffee,” she gave him a pout.

  “Five minutes,” he said, jaw tight, seeming impatient, “Game face on.”

  She straightened her posture, put her sunglasses on, and followed him out.

  ~~~

  Adrian and several guards showed them to a cottage on the edge of woods that were on the property. She was surprised at how woodsy it was, considering they were in a state that she thought would be mostly desert. It was a pretty stone house that looked like it was on the set of a fairy tale or a Lord of the Rings movie and there were mountains lining the horizon off in the distance. It was romantic. There were pretty gardens planted around winding stone walkways and a rounded wooden door. Inside the front door was a big but cozy room with heavy-looking old furniture and a huge fireplace that separated the living area and kitchen. The kitchen had a door that opened to a back patio area.

  At the back of the house was a dining room, large office, and a bathroom. Upstairs were two bedrooms and another bathroom and the long upstairs hallway overlooked the main living area with a heavy wooden banister. The place was filled with well-loved rustic antique furniture and Kyla hated to admit it but she absolutely loved the place. It had character. It’d be a great place for a getaway… if they weren’t in the predicament they were in.

  Tristan said the plan was for Kyla to spend the day in the bedroom, for Tristan to spend his time downstairs. Separated, but still in the same building, as he didn’t trust anyone with her. He said Adrian had offered to put her on guard there while Tristan stayed back at the main house but he had zero plans to go along with that idea. He didn’t trust Adrian at all, it seemed.

  After they were alone in the cottage, breakfast had just been delivered, she tried to talk to him. He was in a supremely shitty mood.

  “This omelette sucks,” she grumbled.

  “It’s alright,” he shrugged, taking another bite.

  “You make much better omelettes,” she said.

  In truth, it was fine but it was nothing like the one he’d made back at his Tuscan villa, shirtless and singing Led Zeppelin in his jean shorts.

  Here he was in a suit, looking handsome, but looking angry. And they had a battle in front of them. A big one.

  He gave her a half-hearted smile but it didn’t reach his eyes.

  “Talk to me,” she said.

  “It’s gonna be a rough few days,” he mumbled, taking a sip of his coffee. “I’m just getting my head ready for it. As soon as you’re done there, we need to separate. I can’t take it.”

  She reached across the table for his hand. He squeezed it briefly and then let go and snatched his hand back, “I can’t even touch you.”

  She winced.

  He pushed his plate back, “I am using every ounce of control I have to pretend that throwing you on this table and fucking your brains out isn’t all I’m thinking about. Well, not all I’m thinking about but the thing I’m thinking about the most. The other shit in my brain includes Liam, the shit Adrian pulled last night, the fact that Celia is locked down and we’ve got to get her head straight so we can release her, and a pile of other shit.”

  He threw his fork down and got up and looked out the window.

  “Like your mother coming?”

  He shook his head, “You heard me on the phone. I suspected as much. Your smoking wheelhouse brain kept me up half the night.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Tell you what?”

  “About her. About why bringing her here is upsetting to you.”

  He shook his head, looking deep in thought.

  “When did your mother become a vampire?”

  “A year after I was turned.”

  “And she’s not a nice one, I take it.”

  “Hah. That’s funny. She makes Celia look like Mother Teresa.”

  Kyla winced.

  “Yeah. I don’t want her anywhere near you. But that’s not likely because she’ll get wind and then you’ll see.”

  “Talk to me, Tristan…”

  “Kyla, things are fucked. I’m just trying to get through the next few days before I have to face the next set of hurdles, okay? Please. Gimme a fuckin’ break with the questions. Haven’t you had enough enlightenment in the last 24 hours?”

  She swallowed hard and felt her heart sink.

  “We,” she whispered.

  “What?” he snapped.

  “We have to face these hurdles. Not just you.”

  He thrust his hand through his hair, “We. Yeah, just eat up and get upstairs so you can give me a wide berth and give me some space so I can take care of the problems we have. Okay?”

  She dropped her fork and pushed away from the table. She went upstairs to the room she was told she needed to stay in and threw herself on the big sleigh bed. Then she tried to shut down her feelings. She tried real hard to shut down her ability to give a shit. She failed miserably.

  A few hours later there was a knock on her door. She got out of the bed, where she’d been reading on the tablet computer, and stood against the door. “Yeah?”

  “Miss Kelly? I have your lunch.”

  Kyla opened the door cautiously. A server had a covered tray for her.

  “Spencer, not Kelly.”

  “Apologies, Miss Spencer.”

  As it got dark the same woman showed up with another tray for her. Dinner.

  Later, she was tossing and turning in bed. She got up to go to the washroom but she heard voices so she peeked over the banister, where she could see that below, Tristan was sitting on the sofa, working on his laptop.

  Sam and a blond curly-haired guy, someone whose face she couldn’t see from her vantage point, was sitting with him. They were talking but she couldn’t hear them. Tristan looked agitated. Then she saw Tristan drop his laptop on the table, hard, and then grab the unknown guy and physically throw him across the room. The guy landed on his back on the floor about ten feet away from Tristan and Kyla felt her body tighten.

  Tristan’s eyes darted up to her. He pointed at her in and mouthed “go” with a scowl on his face. She ducked back into the bedroom and shut and then re-locked the door.

  A few hours later she needed the restroom again so she quietly ducked into the hall and down it into the bathroom. When she came out she heard a woman’s voice.

  “I’ll just say Hello and be on my way.”

  “Not tonight,” she heard Tristan reply.

  “Awe, sweetie… don’t make me wait to meet the love of your life. I want to know that she’s good enough. I won’t rest until I see for myself. Celia said she’s a hellcat.”

  “Celia better have nothing to say about her after tonight.”

  “Don’t fret, darling. I’ll take care of that.”

  “Why didn’t you just deal with it when you were with her?”

  “I wanted to speak with you first.”

  “Well, it’s getting late. Deal with it, please? I’m ready to go to bed.”

  Kyla quietly ducked back into the room. She looked out the window as she heard a door close and saw a woman in a black full-length evening gown with cocktail gloves and a wide brimmed hat walking down the stone walk. She looked straight out of an old black & white movie. Her beauty looked sort of timeless. She didn’t look old enough to be Tristan’s mother. Glamorous. Dark hair. She looked up and right at Kyla and smiled and gave her a little wave. Even from there and even in the dark she could plainly see where Tristan’s eyes came from. Kyla gave a hesitant wave back.

  The woman turned on her heel and headed down the path. Kyla backed away from the window and sat on the bed. She heard noise outside her door.

  She turned the knob to open it, it opened inward, but as she turned the knob she heard, “Don’t.” That was Tristan. “Leave it shut.”

  “What are you doing?” she called out.

/>   “Leaning against the door.”

  “Why?”

  “Need to be close to you. As close as I can be without being in the same room.”

  Her chest burned with emotion.

  “We’re almost over this first hurdle, babe,” she told him.

  “I know,” he replied. But he sounded exhausted already.

  And how many hurdles were there? First ovulation, then waiting with a sense of impending doom for her period. There was Liam Donavan to deal with, and who knew what hurdle would be next?

  She wanted so badly to be in his arms. She wanted to smell him, to taste him, to feel his strong arms around her. She wanted to feed him, feel him inside.

  “Go to sleep, okay?” he called out. “Sooner you do, the sooner this day is over. Need anything to eat or drink?”

  “Nope.”

  “Goodnight.”

  “Love you. ‘Night.”

  “Love you,” he replied, sounding exhausted.

  She heard noise and she suspected he was gone. She got ready for bed. As she worked in her moisturizer she decided that this day hadn’t been great but it seemed a little too easy to get through.

  She’d later change her mind about that. And the night following that one would be the longest night of her life so far.

  ~~~

  She woke up in pitch black darkness, freezing cold, so she tried to nuzzle deeper into the blankets and in her semi-conscious state, reached for Tristan’s warmth but then she remembered he wasn’t in bed.

  As she realized this she was acutely aware of sensations like her body was covered in static so she leaned over to switch the lamp on the bedside table on and that’s when she saw him. Tristan was standing over the edge of the bed.

  She held her hand over her eyes to shield against the sudden brightness of the lamplight and when they adjusted enough that she could see him she saw through a squint that he didn’t look so good. He was grey and he was breathing cold fog into the room.

  Oh shit. Am I bleeding?

  He grabbed his temples and closed his eyes, looking like he was having an internal struggle. Then his fangs shot out.

  Oh God.

  He was suddenly on her and his skin was suddenly normal, his eyes were normal. He wasn’t cold.

  “Baby?” he asked, looking confused, like he didn’t know how he’d gotten there. He gave his head a quick shake and then took a deep breath and then scrambled back off her.

  “What the hell?” he asked.

  Kyla was about to speak but then she saw the blue in his eyes fade to black again and the grey rushed over his skin like a shadow. His fangs shot back out.

  “Oh my God!” she breathed and tried to scamper backwards but he rushed her again and was on her, his hands pinning her shoulders.

  The black gave way to blue and the grey faded. Fangs retracted. Tristan was breathing hard, struggling, his mouth contorted, “What the fuck?”

  Kyla shook her head frantically, “You have to go! Go!”

  He let go of her and ran out of the room, slamming the door.

  She got up and ran to the door and twisted the lock but decided instantly that it was an absolutely idiotic thing to do. She lifted her nightie, a short one, light pink, sort of like a very long tank top that hit just above her knees and quickly snapped the elastic of the waistband of her pale blue bikini briefs to see if there was blood in her underwear. There wasn’t. Why was he like this, then? The ovulation peak?

  What do I do?

  The lock turned back unlocked and the door flew open. Hard. The door bounced off the wall and there he was, in front of her, only about a foot away, billowing cold out of his mouth. His eyes and skin were wrong again.

  And then he was on her, his nose on her throat and he advanced, backing her up until she fell on the bed as his teeth sank in. Her fists clenched the sheets and she felt so much fear that she was afraid it’d kill her. His palm went to her shoulder to pin her and it was freezing.

  She heard him swallow and felt a foreign sensation inside her, but then the heat returned. Her eyes opened and she couldn’t see his face but could feel him. Not rust or emptiness or cold but warmth flooding her instead, Tristan flooding her instead.

  “What the fuck, baby?” he muttered and looked at her.

  “You have to go,” she whispered, feeling him get erect against her.

  “Yeah, I know, okay,” he kissed her throat and backed off the bed and zoomed out of the room.

  She felt throbbing in between her legs. She was suddenly drenched and completely throbbing with need.

  He was back. He was back and his skin looked normal and his eyes looked normal but he looked like he’d just come in from a marathon the way his chest was moving up and down rapidly. He was at the end of the bed.

  He looked so fucking sexy she wanted to jump him.

  “I have to fuck you,” he told her and the way he said it, it was as if he was trying to preach to the choir that the sky was blue.

  “Yeah,” she scampered up and launched herself at him.

  “You have to stop me from fucking you,” he said as he caught her.

  His hands were on her ass and her legs were around him, her short nightgown hiked up around her waist, her arms around his neck, and she had his earlobe in her mouth.

  “Stop,” she said feebly but then ran her hands up his chest and tangled her fingers into his hair and then her tongue was in his mouth.

  He rounded the bed and put her on her back horizontally across it and then her hands were in his track pants, pulling his cock out.

  “I have to stop,” he said against her lips but his hands were hiking her legs up and then ripping her panties to shreds, and then his cock was right against her entrance.

  “You have to stop,” she mumbled.

  “You smell so fucking good,” he said, with anger, “You are so fucking wet right now.”

  “So fucking wet,” Kyla agreed on a whimper and then jerked her hips forward and then he thrust inside her, hard, to the max and they both moaned. Kyla’s ankles locked against his back and she dug her nails in and he let out a very masculine sound of pleasure.

  “Harder!” she demanded, goosebumps everywhere.

  “No, got to get outta here,” He said but he was definitely going harder. He was also going faster. She was thrusting her pelvis at him, digging her nails into his back, and then tears were streaming down her face because she knew that they were in over their heads. She knew this but couldn’t do a thing to stop it.

  “Go, Tristan. You have to stop this right now before … before you come inside me…Oh God…bite me. Bite me bite me bite me. Fucking bite me.”

  He complied, biting her throat and swallowing twice, kissing it, then circling his hips, plunging hard into her, and then suddenly, he flew back, leaving her empty and his hands were in his own hair and he was shaking his head, “I can’t…” He vanished out of the room and Kyla went after him.

  When she got to the bottom of the stairs he was standing there, his back to her, his head in his hands.

  “Tristan…” she breathed.

  He spun around and his eyes were coal black.

  “Get the fuck back upstairs!” he demanded.

  “Ohhhh…kay,” She spun around to do as he’d told her but then after she got up just one step he grabbed her arm, spun her back around and his mouth caught hers and they tumbled onto the stairs. Him on top, her on her back, her legs automatically wrapping around his waist. He hiked the nightie back up; she heard the fabric stretch in protest. He grabbed her by both hips, and slammed inside.

  “Fuck!” he growled and then his eyes were blue and glowing bright, brighter than she’d never seen them glow before.

  “Fuck, Kyla! Holy fuck!”

  “What?” She threw her head back and moaned because he was still pushing in over and over while this was happening.

  “Your eyes…” he said, “they’re glowing!”

  Her fingers went to her clit and she started moaning loud, rotat
ing her hips with him inside her. He grabbed her hand and sucked her fingers into his mouth and put his own fingers to her clit instead.

  The stairs dug into her back and the back of her neck but she didn’t give a shit. She was drunk with desire and Tristan was fucking her harder, faster, kind of supersonic-like. She felt buzzing on her clit, felt her g-spot like it’d grown ten sizes, and her inner walls started to spasm. She started to come. She started to come hard.

  “Tristan! I love you so much. Please don’t stop.” His free hand skimmed her torso and then held her jaw.

  “I can’t stop. Fuck, but I tried. Kiss me.” His head descended and his tongue plunged in and she let him. He kissed her so deeply and so hard, tasting like ambrosia fruit salad, that the thought flitted through her mind that she could die right now and know no greater bliss. Being fucked on the stairs by her vampire prince right smack dab in the middle of ovulating.

  Ovulating.

  Fuck.

  Her faculties returned as Tristan came inside of her. She felt it like a hot jet and when that hot whoosh hit, she felt something else. She felt the area inside her pelvis start to tremble, heat up, like it was 900 degrees inside, and then everything faded to black.

  ~~~

  Everything hurt. Her back felt bruised. The stairs.

  Her mouth felt swollen. All the kissing.

  Her vajayjay felt raw. The sex.

  The sex.

  THE SEX.

  Shit. Shit, shit shit.

  She opened her eyes and looked around. She was in the sleigh bed. She sat up slowly, feeling achy all over.

  She looked under the covers and lifted the nightgown. Nope, no underwear on. They were definitely gone. And she was definitely raw and sore down there. She had no doubt that it hadn’t been a dream.

  She got up and went to the bathroom. Then she looked in the mirror and washed.

  Am I pregnant now?

  Am I nine months away from giving birth to a baby? Tristan’s baby? Our baby?

  And am I gonna die?

  She put her hand to her belly.

  A baby…

  Her other hand covered her mouth and she stared at herself in the mirror, her eyes filling up.