The Viking dug into a leather pouch on his thigh and came back with a little phone. “I’ve my own phone.” He smiled proudly. “Not sure exactly how to work it, but I have it.”
Tristan smiled. “I’ll check in with you in a few days.”
Netty nodded to them both before breaking out into a huge smile. Then he was just gone.
“Jesus.”
Ash laughed a little. “We might have run here if there was even a remote chance of me keeping up with him.”
Tristan only shook his head, having no idea they could move that fast.
Ash took his hand and led him to the car. She was warmer than usual, not quite human warm, indicating that she’d really only had a small sip to fill her seikonō for a few shots of power. He felt the pang of guilt wondering if he was keeping her from going full vampire and filling her belly to capacity. She needed to stay strong, keep a well of seikonō. But he was in no position to be making judgements right then.
When they reached the car, Ash opened the passenger door for him. He looked at the car and then back to her. In a breath he was on her, pressing her against the side, stretching her out under him. She moaned for him, looping her arms around his neck and pulling him down to her to deepen their kiss.
More than ever, he needed her. Her scent, her touch, her love. He was silently falling apart inside and if anyone would know how to help it had to be the woman who’d died inside over and over again during her long years of confinement. She understood pain. Physical pain was nothing compared to what the mind could inflict. Especially for the two most stubborn people Tristan knew.
Ash’s fingers teased at the stubble on his face. “I love you,” she whispered. “Never forget that.”
He shook his head, forehead resting against hers. “Impossible to.”
They spent the long ride back to the plane talking a little about Mother and what it meant, might have meant. They both agreed that this Jason fellow was the one in charge of all the mess that was happening now and that he was not only the Frist Pythia but also Lilith’s biological father, though Ash had no memory of him. Tristan suggested she try to get together with Wren since he had laid eyes on the man. A quick call to his cell went unanswered and Tristan tried to hold onto the thought to call the vampire back again later. Who knew what time zone the man was in now.
They also agreed that The Professor, the old man with the elfin cane Tristan had met in Greece that’d been pulling the strings on Chrysanthe and her elven cohort, was a mere lackey—a pawn of little significance in the bigger picture, but a pest nonetheless. That the man claimed to be Tristan’s father was plain bullshit. Even if it were true, they didn’t know what the man was, so why harp on it right then? Eventually, Tristan would find the man and face him again. That was a guarantee as far as Tristan was concerned. For now, though, Tristan had a big task ahead of him and couldn’t let something small like paternity slow him down. He just hoped it wasn’t the key to all of this mess, the reason Mother wanted him now. Somehow he knew he was just lying to himself and that it meant everything.
The one topic they didn’t discuss during the six-hour drive was Xuejiao. Ash tried to broach it once but was shut down by an outburst Tristan felt immediately guilty for. There was a lot of contemplative silence after that.
The sun was starting to simmer the edges of the horizon and Ash sighed when they’d finally reached the tarmac. She’d fought the daylight less then twenty-four hours before and was obviously still drained from the experience, no matter how exhilarating it might have been.
Lance came bounding down plane the steps before the couple had even gotten out of the car. Simon hovered in the doorway looking nervous but kept his mouth shut for a change.
“What’s wrong?” Ash asked coming around the front of the car to him.
“A couriered letter. For Tristan.”
“Who the hell even knows where to find me?” Tristan muttered as Ash rushed forward to take the envelope.
Tristan slammed the car door shut behind him and came up to her as she tore into the envelope. “You know it’s a federal offense to open someone else’s mail, right?”
That was the old him, the snarky him, so why did it feel forced? Fake?
Ash didn’t hear him anyway. Her face was ashen, her hands trembling slightly. “Eric and Gillian, aren’t they your friends from home?”
Tristan nearly knocked her over trying to get to the letter. “What, it’s from G and Eric?” As far as Tristan was concerned, no one from home knew where he was. Not even his family lawyer, which he realized was careless of him. Gillian was Tristan’s best friend, he’d known her since he was a toddler. And Eric was Gillian’s longtime boyfriend. The last time he saw them he’d said some pretty shitty things and then he left for Japan, never saying goodbye or making up for his bad behavior.
Ash gave him a moment to process. He was pale before, but as the note started to make sense, he turned deathly white.
“She’s been taken,” he whispered, hands shaking. “Some fucking vampire took Gillian!”
In her best calm voice, Ash tried to reason with him, “The note only says a monster. Not a vampire. Monster could be a metaphor.”
Tristan shot her a look.
Ash gave in to a sigh, bowing her head to rub at the bridge of her nose. “But your suspicions are probably right. It was probably a vampire who took your friend, Gillian.” She rolled her eyes up to meet Tristan’s. “Someone is trying to get your attention.”
“Well, they sure as fuck have it—Lance?”
“Y—yes?” the fae asked, looking rightly nervous.
“Are we ready to leave right now, this moment?
Lance looked startled but nodded confidently. “Within the hour.”
“Fine,” Tristan grumped as he took the steps up two at a time. “We’re not going back to Japan.”
“Where are we going?” Lance asked from behind and stopped short when Tristan turned in the doorway to look down at the others with fierce determination in his eyes.
“Home.”
The Uruwashi Series
Beautiful Death
Bete Noire
Moon Child
White Lies
About the Author
SOMETIMES known as Stinna (pronounced Steena), Christina Moore just so happens to be her real name. Her writing career started under a pseudonym in the romance genre. But her true love has always been the paranormal. Vampires, werewolves, demons, faerie and everything in between, she loves them all—the allure of the unknown. The birth of the Uruwashi series started many years ago with a daydream sparked by the special voice of a certain bad-ass vampire in her favorite anime. Little did she know then that the story of the Uruwashi would morph into what it is today.
A Maryland native, Christina lives just outside of beautiful historic downtown Annapolis. Growing up riding horses to show in dressage and cross-country, later moving on to racing Volkswagens and then finding a career in the architecture industry as a graphic artist/mother hen, she’s never been a real expert in any one thing. When not writing or trying to keep up with her toddler, she loves to read, garden, cross-stitch, and play video games.
www.thebeautifuldeath.com
White Lies: (The Uruwashi Series #4) Page 31