by Shelly Bell
Yet at the first opportunity, he’d started back with his old behaviors, sending her notes and flowers, discovering where she lived and worked. It was only a matter of time before he came for her, and this time, she feared she wouldn’t be so lucky.
Tristan laid a kiss on top of her head, the touch keeping her from becoming lost in the past, instead, grounding her in reality. “How did you escape?”
She pressed her hand over his heart, comforted by its steady beat. “My mother got concerned when I didn’t return home from the store. When my father and brother, Nico, found my car with the wire pulled from the distributor, they realized someone had tampered with it. That was enough for the police to get involved and review the security footage from the market. Once they learned I’d gone with Tony, they checked every place they could think of that he could’ve taken me. My father was familiar with the hunting lodge. They got to me before . . .” She lifted her head and pushed back from him. “I thought I’d be safe here, but he’s out of the psychiatric hospital, and somehow, he found out where I am.”
He nodded once with an air of determination about him. “We need to get you to the police.”
The first time she’d spoken with the cops about Tony, her parents had been with her and she’d been in the hospital. She’d blamed herself, especially when everyone in the community seemed more worried about Tony temporarily behind bars. But it hadn’t taken her long to grasp that she had been the victim and she vowed to never become one again.
She would never allow a man to hurt her again.
“No.” She popped up from his lap and wrung her hands together. “I mean, yes, I’ll go to the police, but you’re not coming with me.”
“The hell I’m not.” He surged from the chair and stood in front of her, blocking the exit to the office.
“I’ll do it myself,” she said calmly.
“As your Dom—”
“You’re not my Dom. Not anymore.” Her throat tightened as she spoke, thick with unshed tears. “I may be new to this, but what I do know is that trust is paramount, and you didn’t trust me.”
His eyes softened. “Angel . . .”
“It’s Isabella or Ms. Lawson.” She admitted the sad truth. “Angel doesn’t exist.”
His lips parted, emitting a puff of breath, but he didn’t speak and it seemed as if he was processing her words. After a moment, he swallowed hard and said, “At least allow me to accompany you to the police station.”
So that was that. What else had she expected? That he’d fight for her, a girl he’d known for only a couple of weeks?
She couldn’t resist touching him one last time, placing her palm against the roughness of his cheek. “Fine. But afterward, you can drop me off at my dorm. From now on, we’re strictly professor and student.” His expression gave away nothing, confirming she was making the right choice. “It’s for the best. Forbidden relationships are like high yield bonds. The risk makes it sexy, but in the long run, you’re bound to lose more than your shirt.” She dropped her hand, ignoring the impulse to say “fuck it” and beg him to fight for her.
Ending their relationship now was the right decision.
So why did it feel so wrong?
Chapter 9
After a grueling afternoon spent at the police station, Tristan dropped Isabella off at her dorm and drove back to his office, knowing that if he went back to his apartment, the memory of her laid out on his bed, her red hair fanning his pillow, would torture him to drink.
Hearing her repeat the story of what she’d gone through with her ex to the police had nearly undone him. The fear she’d kept bottled up for years as the guy progressively became more unhinged made Tristan want to find him and teach him a thing or two about what it was like to be on the other side of a fist.
The cops hadn’t taken her seriously at first, remarking she should be flattered by Tony’s attentions. It wasn’t until Tristan dropped Lancaster’s name that they made a call to the assistant district attorney on her case.
Leaving Isabella alone at her dorm had nearly killed him. He’d almost ordered her to stay with him at his apartment, until he’d remembered she’d broken up with him and he no longer had that right. Everything happened so fast. One minute, he’d been in class, distracted thinking about what he’d like to do to her body, and the next, he’d been in his office losing his shit thinking she was engaged.
He was an ass, and his fucked up response to her trauma had ruined what they could’ve had together.
Walking down the hallway to his office, he immediately noticed his door was open. Was it possible Isabella changed her mind and beat him back there?
He stepped in the room.
Definitely not Isabella.
“Professor Kelley,” Ryder sing-songed in a falsetto voice, sitting in Tristan’s chair with his feet up on the desk. “I’m here for my office hours. Did you forget I was coming this weekend?” He laughed for a moment then stopped suddenly, the smile sliding off his face. “Good lord, you look like shit, man. Teaching can’t be that bad, can it?”
“No, teaching is fine. And I did forget.” His head hanging, he braced his weight on the desk with his hands. “I fucked up. I slept with a student.”
Ryder’s feet dropped to the floor with a thud. “Well that was quick, even for you.”
“I met her at your house last week. Dreama’s cousin.”
“The one you spent the night with in my guest room? She’s a student?”
Tristan nodded. “A freshman.”
“Man, that’s a wicked coincidence. Are you sure she didn’t know who you were at the party? Maybe she’s got a teacher fetish.”
“No, she was just as surprised as me.”
“Well, I don’t see the problem,” Ryder said, sounding amused. “So you slept with a girl who ended up in your class. No big deal.”
“I also slept with her after she became my student. More than slept with her. I’ve scened with her. Punished her.” He looked up at his friend. “Made love to her.”
Ryder sat back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. “You’ve fallen for her.”
“It doesn’t matter. She just ended things.”
“How did you manage to screw it up already?”
Tristan stood tall, offended. “Why would you assume I did something to screw it up?”
“Because ever since you caught Morgan in bed with your asshole of a brother, you’ve forgotten that not all women are like your ex-wife.”
Ryder’s words slammed into him like a physical blow. Was he right? Is that what he had done with Isabella?
He’d seen the flowers, and without her permission, he’d ripped open the envelope and read the card and the newspaper clipping. There could have been a dozen reasons for her to receive flowers, but his first instinct had been to assume she had another lover and that the whole connection between the two of them was an illusion. His own personal demons had tarnished his view of his Angel. If he’d waited for her to open the card, to trust she would share the danger with him, it would have all played out differently. If only she had confided in him about Tony. Then again, he hadn’t shared his past with her either, so how could he judge her?
“She’s in danger,” Tristan said, “and all I want to do is lock her up and demand she stay with me at all times so I can protect her. Instead, she’s in the dorm, relying on the police to keep her safe.”
“Whoa.” Shaking his head in confusion, Ryder sprung from his seat. “What are you talking about?”
“Her ex is a fucking nut job.” Tristan gestured to the flower arrangement still on Isabella’s desk. “She’s got a restraining order against him, but he had flowers sent to her office, along with a fake engagement announcement.”
“What did the police say?”
“They assured me she’s safe, but I’ve got a bad feeling about it.”
“Listen, obviously she’s got some whacked up history, but she’s your student.” Ryder put his hand on Tristan’s shoulder. “D
on’t you think maybe it’s better that everything ended now before things get any more complicated? I mean, is she really worth the risk?”
Tristan blew out a breath, lacing his hands behind his head. For far too long, he’d been stuck in an endless cycle of monotonous one-night stands, his heart impenetrable and his soul numb. Somehow, Isabella had broken through and jumpstarted his life. He’d never felt like this, not even when things were good with Morgan. “Yeah. She’s worth it. I’m just not sure I’m worth it to her.”
“Only one way to find out.” Ryder smacked him on the back. “Go apologize for being a dick and beg her to take you back. Then, you can fuck her as you protect her. Win-win.”
“Would you mind . . . ?”
“Staying at a hotel so you two can fuck like bunnies while I enjoy some bad porn and a cheap steak dinner?”
“The Hayvenwood Hotel on the other side of the bridge is still open.”
“Ah, I remember that hotel,” Ryder said with a grin. “You, me, and Candice the gymnast, who howled like a wolf every time she came. Are you sure you don’t want me to stay at the apartment with you? If this Isabella is as special as she sounds—”
“I won’t share her.” Tristan had never been the jealous type, but his blood pressure skyrocketed from the idea of anyone else touching her. “Not even with you.”
Ryder raised a brow then laughed. “She’s really got you by the balls, my friend. I haven’t met her yet, but I already like her.” He jutted his chin toward the door. “Come on. I’ll buy you a drink at the hotel bar and you can tell me more about this girl while you sign the paperwork I brought you.”
As they walked out of the building toward his car, a sense of resolve coursed through Tristan. He would do whatever it took to convince his Angel to give him another chance. A little groveling shouldn’t hurt his manhood . . . much.
***
Restless, Isabella shut the door of her dorm room and headed outside for some fresh air. After everything she’d gone through with Tony, she swore never to lock herself inside and hide again. Maybe she had something to prove, but she wouldn’t give him any more power over her. He’d had it for far too many years, and once she’d gotten it back, she swore she’d never unwillingly give it away again.
There was nothing she could do now but continue living her life to the fullest and allow the police to do their job. They assured her that the sender of the flowers had not hand-delivered the arrangement to her office. The florist employee had dropped them off to someone in the Business Department, who had promised to get them to her, and the cop had stated he’d follow-up within the next couple of days. Plus, they would continue to stay in contact with her hometown’s police department to ensure that Tony hadn’t left the county. As long as he stayed five hours away, she could handle the occasional note or flower arrangement. She just wished his parents could finally understand that he was dangerous.
Strolling across campus, she breathed in the fresh air and took in the beauty of the campus. Hayvenwood University may not have been her first choice, but she didn’t regret her decision to come here. She really loved the small town feel and the way it was tucked away in the sparsely populated Upper Peninsula. Of course, that meant it would be much tougher to keep anything in her life secret from the rest of the students. But if she hadn’t come here, Tristan would’ve remained a memory, and although she’d only shared a few days and nights with him, he’d already complicated her vow to focus solely on school and work for the next four years.
When Tristan had read the faux engagement announcement and assumed the worst of her, she’d allowed her temper to get the best of her. But now that she had calmed down, she could see it from his point of view. Wouldn’t she have done the same if the situation had been reversed? She was so used to Tony putting her on the defensive, she’d lashed out and broken things off with Tristan even though it was the last thing she wanted to do.
And rather than tell her to hit the pavement, Tristan brought her to the police station, supporting her through the ordeal of reporting Tony’s violations of the personal protection order and terms of his probation. To some people, sending flowers and notes might not seem like a big deal, but Tristan hadn’t demeaned her. In fact, if he hadn’t gone with her, she wasn’t sure if the police would’ve taken her as seriously. Having Tristan speaking on her behalf and ordering that they follow-up on the case rather than just taking the report and filing it away made a world of difference.
She walked over to the Pont d’Amour Bridge, thinking of what life would be like without Tristan. She’d spend the next four years suppressing her sexuality, pretending she could be satisfied with boys who she could manipulate with a smile and the promise of a blow job. She needed more than anyone her age could provide. The fact that Tristan wouldn’t take her crap, that he always had the upper hand and that he’d punish her if she defied him, did something for her that was more than sexual. When she turned over her power to him, it was as if a dormant part of her awoke and she became who she was always meant to be. Perhaps it was because he was older, or maybe it was because he was a Dom, but when she was with him, she felt complete.
She leaned over the stone ledge of the bridge, looking at the rocks below. Was a forbidden relationship with him worth what she stood to lose if anyone found out about them?
“You look beautiful, Izzy,” said a quiet voice from behind her.
She wasn’t surprised by his presence. Maybe part of her had even known he’d meet her here. Turning around, she came face-to-face with her first love. “Tony.”
Scratching his forearm, he looked nothing like the boy she’d once loved. His black hair was oily and disheveled, and his pupils were so large, they swallowed the blue irises. “Did you like the flowers? I got a friend from the hospital to send them to you when he was released. He mailed off the notes for me, too.”
Her throat grew dry. “You’re not supposed to contact me. I have a court order.”
He smiled at her. “We can’t let a few words on a piece of paper keep us apart. You’re my wife. They told me I couldn’t see you, but when I found the brochure for the university in your bedroom, I came for you. Five hours here and five hours back, just to see you. But you’re worth it. No one understands how much we mean to each other. But now we can run away and be together.”
He’d broken into her family’s house? Stalked her?
Not wanting to anger him, she kept her voice soft, unzipping her purse and slowly sliding sideways, step by step, her back to the stone wall of the bridge. “I’m not your wife. We’re not married. We broke up, remember?”
“No!” He lunged and yanked her toward him, knocking her purse from her hands. “You broke up to protect me from them, but I killed them for you. They’re all dead, and now there’s no one who can keep us apart.”
A chill ran through her as she stared into his wild eyes. “Who are you talking about? Who did you kill, Tony?”
He let her go and started pacing back and forth, scratching the skin of his forearm again. “The demons who took over my parents’ skin. I fed them the poison they were feeding me, and when they fell asleep, I turned on the gas. Now they’ll go back to hell where they belong.”
Trembling uncontrollably, she dropped to the ground to get her phone out of her purse. “Oh, God, Tony. You killed your parents? We have to call the police. Maybe it’s not too late.”
He came up from behind her and kicked her purse away then slid his hands under her armpits and jerked her to her feet. “We have to go now. We’ll go somewhere they’ll never find us.”
Tony’s parents had hurt her and her family terribly by blaming her for his problems, but never in a million years would she have wished them dead. Their actions had been out of love for their son.
And he’d killed them.
What would he do to her?
She eyed her purse sitting a few feet behind him. “Where will we go?”
He peered over the ledge of the bridge at the rocky ravine below t
hem. “Heaven. The demons can’t get in there, so we’ll be safe.”
Her heart dropped to her stomach, the meaning behind his words frightfully clear. He was planning on killing himself and taking her with him.
Biting her lip, she fought against the tears. They wouldn’t help. She swore she wouldn’t ever be a victim again, and she wasn’t going to break that promise to herself. She wasn’t ready to die.
Tristan’s face flashed before her eyes. But she also smelled him in the air. Felt his strong arms holding her to his warm chest. Heard his deep voice commanding her to live.
She wouldn’t die because she wasn’t done with Tristan Kelley. There was more to their story. At least her apology and one last kiss.
The roar of her pulse drowned out all other sound. She needed her purse. With Tony still distracted, looking down at the ravine and mumbling incoherently to himself, she made her move. She raced past him and scooped up her purse, digging into it and grabbing her pepper spray.
He tackled her from behind, causing her purse to fly out of her hands again. She landed on the hard ground with a thud, his full body weight on top of her, his hands holding down her arms. Writhing and thrashing, she struggled to escape.
“Shh,” he whispered in her ear, suddenly releasing one of her arms. She twisted her body, prepared to release the pepper spray, when he jabbed the top of her shoulder with a needle. “This will help you relax. Don’t worry, Izzy. It won’t hurt. There’s a secret wormhole here and we’ll fall straight through to heaven.”