“Go back with your guard, Serena. I’ll see to Freya.”
At my words, Freya’s expression hardens to stone.
Serena turns to the xana with sympathy in her gaze. “I should go before Rulf’s brain explodes. It was really nice to meet you. Thank you for sharing. Your betrothed is very lucky. I hope that one day that he’ll realize just how much.”
“Thank you,” she whispers.
Rulf takes Serena by the elbow, guiding her out of the forest, and it’s all I can do not to tear him apart for even touching her.
I watch until she’s safely out of Freya’s grasp, then turn my attention to the xana with a scowl, which elicits a smirk from her.
“We need to talk about my brother,” I state.
Tristan
I KICK OFF MY BOOTS AT the door and toss my key card on the counter before running my hands over my face. It’s been a long fucking day.
The light stubble I like to keep on my jawline has grown out a bit, and I make a mental note to tighten it up in the morning.
Heading to the fridge, I grab a bottle of beer and a slice of pizza. I don’t have the energy to warm it up, so cold it is. As soon as the refrigerator door closes, the light in the apartment fades and I’m left in the darkness.
I take a long pull from the bottle, allowing the alcohol to soothe the turmoil lingering inside me. I wasn’t prepared for the side effects my bond with Serena would cause.
Her heightened emotions came slamming into me tonight. An odd combination of fear, hurt and love.
Nothing she was experiencing felt right, and it wracked my body like a tidal wave.
I heave a heavy sigh and ignore the thick layer of cold grease coating the top of my mouth. The moment I felt Freya’s presence, fear spread through my body like ice. Mine. Serena’s. It all swirled together.
I still have no idea what the hell Serena was thinking. Xanas can be extremely dangerous if angered. After summoning Zander to warn Freya off, I came straight back to the suite.
I’m tired, hungry, and—if I’m being honest—sexually frustrated after being around a female nymph. They tend to have that effect on male supernatural beings.
Startled, my eyes flick to the set of slightly glowing sapphire ones peering at me from across the counter.
As a side effect of a gargoyle’s protector bloodline, our irises faintly glow when our emotions are amplified.
“You’re seriously our new roommate?” Serena asks.
I tilt my chin toward the counter. “I have the key card and everything,” I reply, and give her a sarcastic snort.
She cocks her head and looks at me suspiciously. After a long bout of silence, she sighs. “I can manipulate the air so that everything around me slows down. It’s how I approached you without noise, or you realizing I was here.”
Her admission is something I already knew, but I still need to act like it’s new information. I look down and then back up at her, before nodding that I understand.
Serena’s ardent eyes watch me. “Is Freya all right?”
I hold her gaze. “Why wouldn’t she be?”
She shrugs. “I was worried about her.”
I take another long pull from the beer bottle before setting it on the counter. “Your guard is right. You shouldn’t be consorting with nymphs. They’re unpredictable and dangerous.” My tone is harsh, edgy.
Especially that one, I want to add, but don’t.
“You seem to know a lot about them, Tristan.”
“Most male protectors do, Serena,” I fire back. “Why are you awake? Isn’t tomorrow your first day of training?”
She scoffs and her arms cross around her body as if she’s bracing herself. “I thought maybe you and I should get to know one another better. I mean, if we’re going to be living together, I think I have the right to know who you are, and what you’re really doing here at the Academy. Don’t you?”
I swallow the disgusting bite of pizza I took, throwing the rest of the slice down on the counter before I answer. Leaning my elbows on the marble countertop, so we’re the same height, I push myself into her personal space.
“Fair enough, raindrop.”
She continues to stare at me, assessing me, thinking my agreement to this is some sort of game.
It’s not.
She’s right, she has the right to know the limited amount of information I can share.
Her expression turns mischievous.
“Do you cook?” She nods at the pizza.
“Nope.”
Her smile is slight, but it’s there.
“Do you clean?” she asks.
“Nope.”
Normally, others do these things for me.
“Just a heads-up, Mags will kick your ass for leaving wet towels on the floor, so you’re going to want to work on that.” She laces her fingers. “Otherwise, I can’t be responsible for her actions. She’s tiny, but lethal. And a neat freak.”
I chuckle. “Noted.”
“Favorite color?”
I pause a moment, staring into her eyes. “Sapphire.”
My answer causes her to hesitate and stumble. “Um, how did you get the scar on your upper lip?” she points to my mouth, thrown off a bit.
“Battle wound,” I answer vaguely.
“Why are you living in student housing?” she asks.
I casually shrug. “Chancellor Davidson assigned me this suite. I’m guessing it’s because I was a last-minute staff addition and the professional housing was all spoken for.” My answer is truthful. She doesn’t need to know it’s also because I’m her protector and apparently need to be here.
Serena contemplates my answer for a beat too long as her gaze roams over my features, landing on my brow piercing. “You don’t strike me as the teacher type, Tristan. What are you really doing here at the Academy?”
I glance at my bottle, then back at her, deciding how much truth I’m actually going to offer up. “I fucked up. I did something I shouldn’t have and got caught.”
“What did you do?” she asks quietly.
“It doesn’t matter. What does is that my actions got me a sentence of stone petrifaction.” Serena inhales a hiss through her teeth, knowing it’s the worst possible outcome for gargoyles. “At the last minute, I was offered an instructor position here at the Academy. If I accepted, and fulfilled my duties, it was promised that my record would be wiped clean and my sentence pardoned.”
“Just like that?” she inquires, her brow arched.
“Just like that.” I pin her with a hard glare.
Her hand reaches out and she snags my bottle, downing half the contents in one swallow. I try not to react at the impressive fact that she can swallow a lot of liquid at once.
I need to stop objectifying her sexually. Or get laid.
“It’s obvious that you know people in high places. Severe punishments don’t just get overturned willy-nilly.”
“Lucky for me then, I do know someone.” I bite out.
“Gage?” She asks, with caution lining her tone. “He’s your father, right? Did he work out a deal, or something?”
It’s my turn to swallow the rest of my beer in one gulp. I turn and grab another one out of the fridge, slamming the door harder than I intended, before sucking down most of the liquid. I fucking hate talking about him.
“Yeah, raindrop. Gage Gallagher is my biological father.” I try not to snap at her. None of this is her fault.
“He’s a family friend. I never knew he had a son.”
“Neither did he,” I sigh.
Serena’s expression falls. “Did you know about him?”
“Nope.”
“Yet, you carry his last name?” she poses.
“It’s complicated,” I offer.
I watch while she pulls her bottom lip into her mouth. It’s taking all my willpower not to lean over the counter and suck it into mine, ending this ridiculous conversation.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbles.
“For what?”
She shrugs. “All of it.”
“There’s no need to be. The situation is convoluted, and honestly, my family drama is not something I want to get into with you. But yeah, Gage stepped in and got my sentence renounced. So here I am.” I wave my hand. “He and I don’t have a relationship beyond that.”
“What about your mom? I mean, I know Gage was married to Camilla before she was killed. After that, I didn’t know he was with anyone before he met Nassa.”
Nassa is a sorceress who caught my father’s eye years ago. They’ve been on and off for almost two decades. Another thorny relationship involving Gage.
“My mother and Gage had a one-night fling right after Camilla was murdered. He left the next morning, without a word or a backwards glance,” I pause. “Mom raised me.”
Understanding crosses her face. “Oh.”
“My mom never told Gage about me. Or me about him. We both found out about one another two months ago.”
“I’m sorry, Tristan,” her tone is kind.
“Again, don’t be.”
“So you’re really here to just work off a sentence?”
I hesitate a moment, searching for the right words. There is something deep inside of me that doesn’t want to outright lie to her. “My time here at the Academy is just an assignment. A means to an end for me. Nothing more. I have duties and obligations that await me when I’m done.”
Her face softens. “Where is home?”
I shake my head slowly. “I think I’ve done enough sharing for tonight. We’re ten seconds away from watching reality television and braiding each other’s hair.”
She pins me with an amused look. “One more question.”
I arch an eyebrow, curious. “One.”
“You kissed me earlier.” Her tone is low and serious.
My gaze drops to her lips and she licks them. I have a feeling that I’m not the only one who has mentally relived that kiss multiple times today. “That wasn’t a question. It was a statement.”
She shrugs indifferently. “Semantics, Professor.”
At the sound of her calling me Professor, my cock stands straight up, saluting the sound. Shit. Something else I need to get under control. I swallow a growl and shift on my feet, trying to readjust myself without her noticing.
“You kissed me first.” Yeah, I sound like a toddler.
She grins and releases a light laugh. “By the grace, that was the worst explanation ever. How old are you?”
I lift a shoulder, brushing off her question. “Your kiss was flat. I thought you should experience a real one.”
Pink lips thin in a frustrated line. “I’m not some virgin who’s never had a boyfriend. Or experienced a kiss.”
My heart sinks a little at this bit of information—knowing that someone else was her first.
Fuck, what am I saying? It doesn’t matter. I won’t—can’t—be her anything.
I work my jaw back and forth, trying to control my temper, and telling myself it’s just the bond.
“We done here?”
Serena shoots me a look with a challenging gleam in her eye. “Normally when two beings are trying to get to know one another, the other tends to ask questions as well.”
A moment passes between us as we silently regard each other. This one is hard for me, since I’ve read her files and know just about all there is to know about her.
Anything I ask will sound superficial.
Instead, I decide I want to know her, really know her.
“What keeps you awake at night, Serena?” I ask quietly.
Nervous, she fidgets with her bracelet. It’s something I notice she does when she’s uncomfortable, or ready to bolt.
“All my life, I’ve lived in the shadows of something—” Her words are chosen carefully. “I mean . . . do you ever feel like you’re walking around with a mask on? That no one really knows, or sees, the real you? You go through the motions daily of who and what you’re supposed to be, but at night, when you’re alone in the darkness, you can finally breathe because you don’t have to hide behind the mask?”
Her thoughts come out in a jumbled way as she watches me, waiting for an acknowledgment of understanding.
I get it.
I get her.
My bond to her is what now keeps me up.
“I understand obligatory shadows that hang over you, better than you think I do, raindrop.”
She nods. “I guess it’s silly, really.”
“What’s that?”
“Trying to escape one’s fate. I mean, can you ever really run away from it?” Her tone is wishful, lined with pain.
I roll my neck and internally chastise myself for what I’m about to say to her, because they’re just words. A lie. Words that neither of us have the luxury of believing. She’s right. Our fates are sealed.
“I believe we can change the outcome of our destiny. History proves that to us, over and over, again, Serena.”
Her eyes meet mine, full of hope.
“Spoken like a true history professor,” she quips. “I guess you are teacher material after all, Tristan Gallagher.”
I snort. “You win. I guess that was a bit cliché.”
She regards me for a moment before speaking softly.
“Actually, Tristan, you win.”
“What?”
“Since you’re a good kisser, I’ve decided you can stay.”
The room falls silent and I can’t help but notice everything about her.
I admire her black tank top, which dips in the front just enough for me to appreciate the roundness of her full breasts. Her auburn hair is pulled into a messy bun on top of her head, showing off her long neck.
Her pretty face is free of makeup.
She’s breathtaking.
“Stop staring at me,” she says in a quiet command.
“You liked me kissing you?” I ask, my own voice low.
“Yes,” she whispers into the darkness.
I watch her with one of those expressionless expressions, hesitating a few seconds, which leads into an awkward silence between the two of us that lingers.
I’m unsure why I’m being unresponsive, but as ridiculous as it is, I don’t want to make any sudden moves. I’m afraid it will scare her off, and I like looking at her.
Then I come to my senses.
“I was wrong to do that,” I state weakly.
“Do what?” she inquires.
“Kiss you.”
I tilt my head and look at her. Her expression falls, but she immediately hides the disappointment and puts on the same bright, fake appearance she gave to Rulf earlier.
Her mask.
And I hate it.
I fucking hate that she’s being phony with me.
“It’s fine. I kiss all my professors,” she tries to joke.
Her gaze locks onto mine, waiting for me to laugh.
I don’t.
My mind drifts back to Chancellor Davidson and his obvious affection for her. Is she kidding or being serious?
I can’t have a jealous reaction, which is why I need to put an end to whatever this is becoming. Now.
“That’s just it, Serena. I am your instructor during my time here at the Academy. Regardless of our unconventional living arrangements, or our mutual attraction for one another, it’s best if we just leave it at that.”
My chest tightens with each word. Why the hell is that?
“Sometimes, a kiss is just a kiss. It’s okay,” she replies.
My jaw clenches at her words. Slowly I bring my eyes back to hers. That was not the reaction I was expecting, and it’s causing my entire body to have an internal battle.
We both know the kiss we shared wasn’t just any kiss, and even though it’s wrong, and I just made it clear we can’t, I want to kiss her again. Over and fucking over again.
“I have training in the morning,” she blurts out, ending my internal fight. Standing, she fixes her tank top. “’Night.”
“’Night
.” I watch as she walks toward the hallway to her room, wearing her short sleep shorts, and somehow force myself to remain in the small kitchen rather than follow after her.
“Oh, and Tristan?” she adds, turning at the doorway.
“Yeah?”
“Welcome home.”
My stomach bottoms out. This isn’t home. But being near her is sure as hell starting to feel like it.
Serena
I stop at my bedroom door before facing Magali. As planned, she’s standing in her doorway, which is across from mine, listening in on my conversation with Tristan.
“Did you get all that?” I sign so he can’t hear.
Mags holds a stern expression. “You kissed him?”
I roll my eyes. “I meant the other stuff.”
She shrugs and signs back. “There wasn’t a hint of deceit in anything he said. Except the fact that he just wants to be friends,” she smirks. “He wants to get in your pants.”
Sometimes it helps to have a best friend that’s a supernatural lie detector. “Thank you for doing that.”
I can see the discomfort cross her expression before she exhales. “Tristan is right. Regardless of the reason, or his age, he is your professor. And our roommate. I know you, Ser. I know his gentle rejection was taken as a challenge, but I think you should sit this one out. His dad is tied to your clan. The royal family. Nothing good can come of this.”
I glance down the hall to where I left Tristan. All my life, I’ve wanted something more than just to be the next heir to the protector throne. I’ve wanted to stand on my own. To escape the shadows of the London clan legacy.
Suddenly, Gage Gallagher’s son’s presence in my life doesn’t seem so infuriating, or strange. It feels predestined. Maybe it’s fate. Maybe Tristan is the answer to my silent prayers. It’s no secret that Gage has a strained relationship with my clan and race. I’ve seen and felt it for myself. It’s a tension that I just might be able to leverage in order to get what I want: freedom.
I bite my lip in contemplation. Whether he knows it or not, Tristan just became my tunnel of light through the darkness. My way out.
Regardless of his words, which say one thing, his eyes say something else. It’s a good thing I love a challenge, because Tristan Gallagher just became the ultimate prize.
Vernal Page 8