When Tristan rolled his eyes at me, I wanted to stomp over to where he lounged carelessly on the couch and kick him in the balls. Knowing my luck, his balls were probably made of granite just like his head. The guy was a brick. It was insane and absolutely unnatural.
“Relax, Red, Tristan’s just trying to help you,” Rick offered, trying to subdue me.
“Help me, my ass,” I grumbled.
“And a very fine ass that is.” Maverick grinned as he tilted his head to get a better look at my behind.
My eyes widened. “You pig!” Without thinking, I ripped my shoe off and threw it at him, hitting him square in the face.
“Ouch!” Maverick said without flinching. “Geez, Red, it was a compliment.”
Tristan sighed. “Are you two done?”
I didn’t respond or look at either of them. I hobbled out of the living room in my one remaining shoe with my head held high and most of my dignity intact. With a huff, I headed toward the bedroom I’d woken up in, somehow remembering where it was. I could hear Maverick’s laughter as I stormed out, which only angered me further.
If only I’d thought to grab my other shoe.
The other rooms were locked except for the bedroom, so I couldn’t snoop around, which meant the only thing left to do was wallow in self-pity and just lay in bed—a very comfortable bed, I might add—and think about the mess in which I’d gotten entangled. I’d planned to stomp into NightCrawlers tonight to put in my immediate resignation, but now I would be a no-show. Oh, well. It wasn’t like I intended to put them down on my resume. My failed Shot Girl career aside, I had other things to worry about that didn’t include sitting in this penthouse.
I suddenly bolted upright when a disconcerting thought skittered through my brain. Tristan warned that those men would be coming for me. I lied to him when I told him I hadn’t seen anything. I saw what that man who attacked me morphed into. His monstrous features still haunted every waking minute. Were they coming for me because of what I saw? I didn’t believe in supernatural crap like that … but I knew what I saw.
Tristan made a deal with me to let him be my advocate when they came, but why? Why did he want to be my pseudo lawyer? It seemed like he was fighting against them, which begged the question – what was he getting out of this? The answer was at the tip of my tongue, but I just couldn’t reach it. I needed to figure out this puzzle soon because something felt off about this whole thing. No one was ever this nice. None of this was for my benefit, no matter what Maverick claimed about Tristan wanting to help me.
I peered over at the cavernous bathroom and decided that tub was calling my name. It was big enough to throw a pool party. If I was stuck there, I might as well enjoy all the luxuries until I had to return to my hole-in-the-wall apartment. I hurried out of bed and started to undress on my way to the bathroom, leaving discarded clothes in my wake. It took me a few minutes of fiddling with the fancy faucet before I figured out how to turn it on and adjust the temperature, but soon the water was primed with the perfect hot-but-not-scalding temperature. Satisfied, I turned and started rummaging through the vanity cabinet, pumping my fist in victory when I found an extravagant selection of fragrant bath salts under the sink. I grabbed a thick, fluffy towel and placed it on the wide edge of the tub, then dumped in a handful of lavender bath salts. When it was filled to my liking, I turned off the faucet and swirled my hand through the delicately scented water.
Dipping my toe in first, a chill coursed through me as my body prickled from the heat. Slowly submerging my whole foot and then my leg, I gradually descended into the tub and made myself comfortable. Leaning back against the tub wall, I picked my hair up into a messy bun to keep it from getting wet. I leaned back, closed my eyes, and fell asleep to the soothing smell of lavender and the comforting warmth of the bath.
Someone cleared their throat loudly and I jerked awake from a blissful sleep. My startled limbs caused a rather large splash of water to escape the confines of the tub. When I looked up, sputtering, I found Tristan standing in the doorway of the bathroom.
“Care to explain this?” He stared at me with a bemused expression.
My hands went straight to my abdomen, attempting to cover the area where my wounds were supposed to be. “Get out!”
“Octavia, you shouldn’t be soaking in bath salts and God knows what else in light of your current injuries.”
He hadn’t seen anything. The iridescent trail of lavender residue was probably covering me up. Thank the heavens. I almost sighed in relief, but then remembered he was watching me intently.
“Can I have some privacy, you pervert?”
He scoffed. “I’m a pervert? I came to check on you and found you lounging in my tub, possibly getting an infection from an overabundance of bath salts!”
I glowered at him silently, mainly because I didn’t have a good comeback. He thought I was injured but I wasn’t … however, I couldn’t tell him that.
“You really shouldn’t sneak up on people,” I mumbled guiltily, reaching for the towel perched on the other end of the tub while still holding onto my abdomen.
He got tired of me trying to grab a towel and just stomped over and snatched it up for me, handing it over.
“Thank you.” When he didn’t make a move to leave the bathroom, I widened my eyes. “Excuse me! Can I have some privacy?”
“Nothing I’ve never seen before. Go on,” he breezed, nodding for me to hurry.
My face heated and I glared at him. “You’re disgusting.”
“I’ve heard worse.”
It was obvious Tristan didn’t plan on going anywhere. I had to get out of the tub, but he was standing too close. There was no way to stand and cover myself without him seeing my stomach. Oh, well. Dumping the towel into the bath, I wrapped it around my body and stood slowly from the tub.
He snorted. “Real mature, Octavia.”
I tapped a wet hand on his chest. “Never claimed I was, buddy.”
I was about to walk away, but Tristan was faster. He grabbed the wrist still resting on his chest. “Let me take a look at your wounds,” he murmured.
I gulped. “No. They’re fine.”
“Octavia,” he growled, a hint of impatience in his voice.
I tightened my hold on my dripping towel, fearing he’d snatch it away from me if I didn’t comply. “I’m serious, Tristan, it’s okay. I swear.”
His gaze narrowed on me suspiciously. “I’ll put new bandages on the nightstand. I also put some clothing for you in the closet. If you feel anything strange, anything at all, come to me right away. Do you understand?”
I nodded but didn’t say a word.
“I’ll be in the living room if you need anything.”
With that, he released me and left the bathroom, leaving me cold, breathless, and a little weak in the knees.
6
I hadn’t slept this comfortably in the six months since I disappeared, although I hated that it had to happen while I was in Tristan’s house. I wanted out of this luxury prison as soon as possible.
After I emerged from the bathroom last night, I saw a stack of clean bandages on the nightstand like he promised. I hid them inside a drawer so he wouldn’t know I hadn’t used them. Clean clothes were hanging in the closet, and more were laid out on the bed in my size, consisting of a pair of black leggings and a stretchy shirt. How he knew my size only made my creep-o-meter climb higher.
After getting dressed, I ventured out of the room to forage for food, but the entire penthouse was blanketed in darkness.
“Hello?” I called out into the pitch-black kitchen. All I could see was the glint of the stainless steel appliances.
My bare feet pitter-pattered on the floor as I crept further into the house, trying to find a light switch. Tristan said I could find him in the living room, but it looked empty.
“Tristan?” I whispered.
“Looking for me?”
“Ah!” I screamed and whirled around, smacking Tristan in the face. �
��Shit!” I groaned as I held my stinging hand. His face was like slapping marble.
“Let me look at your hand,” he sighed and went to grab it.
I pulled away. “You startled me! Why are you so weird?”
“Why are you walking around the house in the dark?” He clapped his hands and the lights turned on, illuminating the whole penthouse.
“Of course it’s that easy,” I muttered.
“That easy.” He grinned. “You’re up early. Did you have plans?”
“No,” I rolled my eyes, “but last night was the first time in a while that I actually went to bed at a decent hour.”
“Well, I can make you breakfast,” he suggested, walking back toward the kitchen. “I assume your favorite is pancakes.”
“What about you?” I raised a brow. “Why don’t I ever see you eat?” I’d eaten twice now, and both times he was only an observer. It was odd.
“I eat.” He started pulling milk and eggs from the refrigerator. “Just not in front of you.”
I snorted. “Why? Watching your girlish figure?”
“Funny,” he said dryly.
That was a very odd thing to say. Why wouldn’t he eat in front of me? It couldn’t be that embarrassing.
“Where’s Maverick?” I scanned the house and found no sign of his golden-haired sidekick.
“He’ll be back tonight,” Tristan answered as he poured pancake batter into a pan. “Do you like blueberries on your pancakes?”
“Sure.”
I took a seat at the kitchen island and watched as Tristan moved around the kitchen, making a full breakfast he had no intention of eating. And true to his word, he didn’t eat; it was all for me. I ate my pancakes quietly, but observed everything about him while I did so.
Tristan wore a t-shirt, cotton pajama pants, and his feet were bare. But what caught my attention was the necklace peeking out of his shirt as he bent over to pick up an eggshell that had fallen on the floor. I caught a flash of something red—like a ruby pendant of some sort, but I didn’t get a full glimpse before he stood up and it was once again hidden by his shirt. From what little I saw, it seemed to be an odd piece of jewelry for a man to be wearing. The chain consisted of russet bronze links that stood out starkly against the alabaster of his skin.
“What are you staring at?” he asked curiously, and I realized I was staring.
I shook my head. “Nothing. Sorry,” I mumbled, embarrassed to be caught, and lowered my head to stuff my mouth with more food.
He straightened, adding, “I’m going to go shower. I’ll be back. Don’t worry about the dishes.”
Without waiting for my response, he left the kitchen and headed down the hallway that led to the bedroom where I’d been staying and all the other locked doors. I wondered which room he would enter since I was pretty sure I was sleeping in his room. I shrugged and finished eating my food.
Disregarding Tristan’s instructions, I decided to wash the dishes. I had nothing better to do. It wasn’t like I could go poking around in the other rooms. All the doors were locked up tight.
I had finished washing everything and was drying the dishes, trying to find where they belonged in his humongous kitchen, when the front door was kicked open. I yelped and spun around, icy fear spiking through me when I saw the same men who had invaded the club storm into the penthouse, led by one I didn’t recognize. He was a ruggedly handsome man, tall and burly with a neatly trimmed beard. His muscles looked like they were about to go on strike and burst from his shirt, and a small part of me wished they kinda would. He scanned the house until his eyes landed on me cowering in the kitchen. They were a warm, honey brown and he smiled when he saw me.
I had been checking him out, but not anymore.
This wasn’t good.
“Tristan!” I yelled for help, hoping he could hear me from the shower. “Tristan!” I shrieked again, this time in desperation. He told me they were coming, but for some reason I thought I had more time.
“Well, hello there, darling,” the burly man purred as he strolled further into the house. I saw there were three others with him. The front door was cracked and hanging off its hinges.
“Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?” I grumbled, trying to sound confident when in reality, my bowels had turned to water at the sight of them.
He chuckled. “My apologies for the dramatics.” He put a meaty hand to his chest. “I just assumed you were being held captive.”
I was. Technically. But Tristan was better than this guy.
I looked behind him and saw the man who had morphed into a monster right before my eyes in the club, the same one who clawed my stomach. I took a shaky step back. There was no way I was going anywhere with him. Could they all do what he did? Oh God, where was Tristan?
“I’m not being held against my will,” I answered defiantly, which wasn’t entirely true because I really wanted to go home. “Now will you leave?”
“Not so fast, missy,” he smirked. Turning to the monster, the beefy lumberjack nodded in my direction and asked, “Is she the one?”
The monster sized me up and down, sniffed loudly, then nodded. “Yeah, that’s definitely her.”
“Well, that settles it,” the man with the beard said. “Grab her and let’s go.”
When the three others started to prowl toward me, I let out a scream loud enough to shatter glass. “TRISTAN!” I darted for the frying pan that was waiting to be dried and prepared to swing at the first bastard who tried to touch me.
“Gentlemen,” Tristan said as he appeared at the entryway of the kitchen and hallway wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. Droplets of water glistened down his pale, damp skin. He ran a hand through his wet hair and gave them a dazzling smile, and I could have sworn I saw fangs. “How rude of me not to have welcomed you!”
“Tristan … lovely,” the bearded man said. “I was sure you’d abandoned the girl by now.”
“About time,” I exhaled, gripping the handle of the frying pan for dear life.
“Of course not, Killian. That’s just your wishful thinking.” Tristan looked at me for a moment, his eyes stern, then they swung back to the one he called Killian. “The girl and I have struck a bargain. I speak for her now.”
Killian laughed, but it was absent of humor. He didn’t find any of this funny. “Very well. We’ll settle this on Pack land. Be there tonight.” With a sharp whistle, the three intruders retreated and left with Killian, stepping through the doorframe that barely held the broken door.
I stood in the kitchen, completely frozen, not understanding a bit of what just transpired. Nothing made sense. Who were these people? What was pack land? The entire spectacle was absolutely absurd.
I backed away from Tristan. “I’m not going anywhere tonight.”
He turned his glare to me. “It’s not up for discussion.”
“Uh, yeah, I think it is!” I yelled. “Those people busted in here like the SWAT team, and now your door is hanging off its hinges. Don’t you care? That’s like, destruction of property! You can call the police!”
Tristan sighed. “Don’t worry, Octavia. All will be handled tonight.” He turned around and headed back down the hallway, seemingly unperturbed.
I hurried to catch up to him and followed him to the bedroom where I’d been staying. I assumed right; it was his.
“You can’t just handle this yourself like you’re judge, jury, and executioner!” I followed him into his walk-in closet that was so large, it was more like another bedroom.
Tristan dropped his towel, gifting me with the sight of his bare ass, and I spun around so quickly I almost fell.
“Oh my gosh! I’m right behind you!” I exclaimed as I covered my eyes.
“I know,” he deadpanned. “I can hear your yapping. It’s honestly quite irritating.”
I stood with my back to him and my hands over my eyes. “Well, I find you quite irritating with your vague responses, so trust me – you’re no picnic in the park, either.�
��
I stormed out of his closet and sat at the foot of the bed, waiting for Tristan to emerge fully dressed.
Tristan materialized from the closet in what I realized was his regular uniform of jeans, a dark t-shirt, and boots. His hair was still dripping wet, but he didn’t seem to mind. He placed his hands on his hips and scrutinized me.
“I have things to do to prepare for tonight. I’ll be in my study. You can hang out in here or watch movies in the living room. It’s up to you.”
“W-What?” I stuttered. “Are you kidding me? I’m not some kid you have to keep entertained.” I jumped off the bed.
“You’re not leaving this house, Octavia. Unless you want those … men hunting you down by your lonesome.” He gave me a sarcastic smile and waited for me to argue. “Didn’t think so. Make yourself comfortable.”
I slept for most of the day. There wasn’t much to do, and I wasn’t much for TV watching, so I popped in Dirty Dancing and fell asleep halfway through the movie. It was a shame, really, because it was one of my favorite films. I must have been exhausted. The stress of the past couple of days were catching up to me, and there was a tightness around my shoulders and neck that finally relaxed when I laid on the sectional in the living room.
I wasn’t sure why I stayed. Maybe it was fear, or maybe in some deep-rooted part of me, I trusted Tristan. Nah, that was absurd. I didn’t trust anyone, especially him. He was most likely a criminal, a drug lord or something, and I was caught in the middle of a turf war. How I got there, who knew? But hopefully he got me out of it. If not, I supposed I would just try to get myself killed so I could snag a new identity … again. What a drag.
“Hey, sleeping beauty,” Maverick murmured.
I sat up on the couch and scrambled back, alarmed to find him sitting beside me. “What are you doing here?” I asked groggily.
He smirked. “I’m here to escort you to … see Killian.” He cleared his throat.
Phoenix Burn (From the Ashes Trilogy Book 1) Page 5