Tristan looked up at her with a quirked brow. “Really?” Sink water emptied into the drain as Tristan stared at her.
Scarlet nodded. “But we haven’t figured out how to read it yet. Nate’s still working on that.”
His adrenaline began to race. With a map, they could break the curse. They could all be free.
“If you can’t read it, then how do you know it’s a map?” Tristan turned the water off and started drying the fork.
Scarlet shifted on the couch, her dark hair sliding over her shoulder. “We went through some Avalon records and I found a journal that belonged to my father.”
“You did?” Tristan asked skeptically.
“Yeah.” She nodded. “Crazy, right?”
Tristan nodded.
Crazy and convenient.
“Anyway,” Scarlet continued. “My dad’s journal had a similar drawing, claiming it was a map. He was trying to find the fountain, too.”
“Why?”
“Because he was addicted to fountain water.”
Tristan blinked. Apparently, he’d missed quite a bit during his isolation. “Any other breaking news I should know about?” He finished polishing the fork in his hand and put it away.
A shudder of apprehension crawled through Scarlet and crept into Tristan.
“What?” He closed the drawer he’d placed the fork in and looked up with curious eyes.
Scarlet cocked her head to the side and paused. “Is it weird?”
“Is what weird?”
She bit her lip. “Feeling everything I feel?”
Only when you’re making out with my brother.
Tristan shifted his weight. “Is it weird for you to feel everything I feel?”
She thought for a moment. “A little.” Her eyes skirted the floor. “It feels…intimate.”
He nodded slowly. “It is intimate.”
Raw. Honest. Intimate.
Deadly.
A wave of desire rolled across the floor, curling around Tristan with heat. He couldn’t tell if the emotion came from him or Scarlet. But neither one of them tried to push it away, which turned him on.
And scared the hell out of him.
He cleared his throat. “So, what were you going to say? When you felt nervous a second ago?” He looked around for another dish to clean, but the kitchen was spotless. He didn’t know what to do with his hands.
“Oh.” Scarlet blinked. “I was going to tell you that Laura might have something to do with the Head Ghosts, which means she might know about me and the fountain.”
Fear prickled the back of Tristan’s neck. “What makes you think that?”
Scarlet exhaled. “She knew your name without me telling her. She has this secret flower hidden in her closet. She bought a ton of special blue weapons from the same guy who had my father’s journal. But mostly, Heather had a memory lapse after she went to my house yesterday. And Laura was at my house.” Scarlet shook her head. “It could all just be a coincidence and I might be crazy, but—”
“You’re not crazy.” Tristan crossed his arms. There. That was something he could do with his hands. “I never trusted Laura.”
Tristan tensed up. If Laura was responsible for sending the psycho Ash guy after Scarlet, Laura would die.
Scarlet’s eyes grew large. “You didn’t?”
He shook his head. “I don’t trust anybody.”
Except Gabriel.
And you.
He needed to stop talking.
“Right.” Scarlet nodded.
A sharp howl of wind slapped rain against the side windows and Tristan watched a shiver tumble through Scarlet. For the first time since waking up, he took note of what she was wearing.
Which wasn’t much.
A tiny, satin top hugged her chest and a pair of very short shorts hung from her waist. She was probably freezing.
He walked over to the fireplace beside the couch and started putting more wood into the hearth from a pile against the wall. “Sorry it’s cold in here. I wasn’t exactly expecting company.” He cleared his throat and kept his eyes on the fireplace as he struck a match from the mantel and coaxed flames from the timber within. “Do you need other clothes?”
Like maybe a tunic? Or some coveralls?
Please say yes.
“No,” Scarlet said. “I’m fine.”
Tristan bit back a groan. He was trapped in a cold cabin with the only girl on earth he wasn’t allowed to touch.
And she was curled up on his couch with more skin exposed than not.
Once the flames came to life, Tristan stood up and turned around, looking down at Scarlet.
Don’t look at her legs. Or her chest. Or her neck. Or her lips.
She was like one big eye trap.
He pushed his eyes away from Scarlet and started looking around the room. In the corner was a stack of new, thick blankets he’d bought. Walking to the corner, Tristan retrieved the softest blanket he had and carried it back to Scarlet. “This should keep you relatively warm until the rain stops.”
Scarlet sat up on the couch and took the blanket from his hands, her blue eyes grateful and curious as they traced down his face. And then his chest.
Her eyes fell to his tattoo, lingering on the design while desire ran wild inside her.
Yeah.
This wasn’t going to work. One of them needed to remove themselves from the room immediately.
Without a word, Tristan walked away from Scarlet’s eyes, shutting himself inside the small bedroom in the back of the shack. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair and across his face.
The rain would let up soon and then Scarlet would leave. Right?
Right.
Right.
53
Gabriel rubbed his face as he, Nate and Heather all looked at the ancient map on the kitchen counter. Scarlet hadn’t returned all day, but Nate insisted she was with Tristan and probably just held up by the storm.
Heather tapped her fingers on the counter, her glossy nails clicking away as she looked at Nate. “How do you know so much about Head Ghosts and maps and everything?”
Nate shrugged. “I’ve been alive for a very long time.”
“Huh.” Heather looked from Nate to Gabriel. “So, can you guys, like, run super fast?”
Gabriel raised his eyebrows. “Uh…no.”
“Can you control people with your mind?”
“No.”
“Do you have an extra strong sense of smell?”
Gabriel sighed. “We’re not vampires, Heather. We’re immortal.”
“Yeah, but what does that mean?”
“It means we don’t die. Ever.”
Heather thought this over. “But what good is eternal life if you don’t have any super powers?”
“My thoughts exactly!” Nate started rooting around in the kitchen cabinets. “I mean, if I don’t get to wear a cape and save damsels in distress, then I may as well spend all my waking hours playing video games where I can do just that. Right?”
“Yep,” Heather said. “So, how old are you guys supposed to be?”
“Four-hundred and nine—”
“No, I mean how old do you say you are?”
Gabriel shrugged. “Eighteen. Twenty-one. Thirty. Whatever is most helpful.”
Nate smiled. “We have IDs for pretty much any age under forty.”
“You do?”
Gabriel nodded. “Nate takes care of all of our legal documents.”
“Passports, birth certificates, driver’s licenses.” Nate grinned. “I’ve got us covered.”
“Do you make them yourself?” Heather asked.
“No, I’ve got a guy. But every fifty years or so I have to find a new guy.” He shook his head and muttered, “Mortals.”
; Heather looked back at Gabriel with a smile. “So, if you’ve got a fake ID guy, we could, like, go clubbing?”
“We’re not going clubbing.”
Heather narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you the boring brother? Are you, like, the disciplined, no-parties-ever, I-always-follow-the-rules brother?”
Nate snorted. “Gabriel spent most of the 20s in a constant state of parties and girls and he spent most of the 60s traveling with a rock band called Monster Freedom.”
“Wait.” Heather wrinkled her forehead as she looked at Gabriel. “I thought you couldn’t fall in love with anyone but Scarlet.”
Gabriel glared at Nate before turning to Heather. “I can’t. But that doesn’t mean I can’t date.”
“Date?” Heather smiled and wagged her eyebrows. “Or date?”
Gabriel rubbed the side of his face. “Can we talk about something else?”
Heather clucked her tongue. “Fine.” She looked at Nate. “So, what were you up to in the 60s? Parties? Dancing? Space travel?”
Nate paused.
“What?” Heather asked.
Nate cleared his throat. “No. I was married.”
Heather’s lips parted. “You were?”
Nate nodded. “I fell in love with a girl named Molly when I first moved to New York. She was beautiful and perfect and accepted me just the way I was. Immortality and all.” He swallowed and looked at the floor.
Silence filled the room and Heather quietly asked, “What happened?”
Nate looked up and blinked. “Death.”
Heather’s big eyes looked sad. “How did she…?”
“She was mortal.” Nate tucked his lips in. “There was nothing I could do to keep her with me.”
Gabriel watched as Heather turned her eyes down, staring at the counter. “I’m so sorry, Nate.”
Nate took a deep breath and went back to hunting around in the kitchen. “It’s okay. It was a long time ago.”
Gabriel knew Nate had never been the same after Molly died. In fact, her death is what put him into a near-constant state of isolation. He shut himself in his house for years, finding different ways to keep busy.
That was probably the reason he started playing video games; they distracted him from reality.
“For all the glamour of living forever,” Nate continued, speaking more to himself than to Heather, “immortality is really just a long curse. Finite life is precious; it’s fleeting and significant. But immortality…immortality isn’t living at all. It’s a permanent existence void of meaning. And it forces you to choose between falling in love with someone who will die, or never falling in love at all.” He looked at Heather again. “It’s a curse.”
“That’s kinda pessimistic. I mean,” Heather sat up straighter. “What if you get to meet another perfect girl? What if you fall in love again? Wouldn’t immortality be worth it?”
Nate smiled sadly. “I have lived many lifetimes and if there’s anything I’ve learned it’s that there is only one great love for each person.” He swallowed. “Molly was my great love and the day she died was the day my soul ceased to have real meaning. But I’m not bitter about it. I found my great love and, for that, I am more blessed than most.”
Heather paused. “Do you wish you were still mortal?”
Nate looked her square in the eyes. “Every day.”
A moment passed.
Clearing his throat, Nate stopped looking through the cabinets for food. “I’m not hungry anymore. I think I’m just going to go to bed.” He nodded at them both. “Night.” He left the kitchen, taking the map with him.
A moment passed.
It was still early, but last night, after Scarlet had disappeared, none of them had gone back to bed. So, Gabriel was exhausted.
He stood up and stretched. “I’m going to bed too.”
“Wait,” Heather’s eyes grew wide. “You don’t expect me to sleep in the basement…by myself, do you?”
“Uh….” Gabriel hadn’t really thought about it.
Heather stood up and started shaking her head wildly. “I cannot sleep in that creepy underground bedroom alone. I could die, Gabriel.”
He rolled his eyes. “You’re not going to die.”
“I could! Someone could grab me in my sleep, or Laura could find me, or some basement creature that lives in Tristan’s bathroom could swallow me whole and—”
“Fine.” Gabriel put up a hand to stop the noise. “You can sleep in my room and I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“No way,” Heather said. “There is no way I’m going to sleep in a bed, by myself, knowing some crazy Ashman can come in and swipe my memories at any moment.”
Gabriel sighed, not used to dealing with dramatic girls. “Then what do you propose we do for sleeping arrangements?”
“I’ll sleep with you.” She shrugged.
“What?” Gabriel raised his eyebrows.
Heather rolled her eyes. “It’s not like we’re gonna get busy or anything. You’ll sleep on one side of the bed and I’ll sleep on the other and, meanwhile, no one will invade my memories. Win-win.”
Gabriel furrowed his brow. “I don’t see how that’s a ‘win’ for me.”
“You get to sleep next to me.” She shrugged again.
Shaking his head, Gabriel said, “Whatever.” There was no point in arguing with Heather. It just encouraged her to talk more.
He followed her up the stairs to his room. “But if you snore,” he said, “I’m carrying you into Nate’s room.”
“And if you snore,” Heather countered, not looking back at him, “I’m going to push you off the bed.”
Once they were upstairs, Gabriel laid on “his side” of the bed—as deemed by Heather—and tried to fall asleep while she practiced her bedtime rituals. But it was no use.
She made no attempt to be quiet as she took off her makeup, brushed her teeth, and dug around in one of the giant bags she’d packed to find a pink, silk, sleep mask.
When she finally got into the bed, Gabriel said, “You’re really noisy when you get ready to sleep.”
“Well, beauty is loud.” Heather pulled the facemask down over her eyes. “Good night, Gabriel.” She turned on her side, her back to him.
He turned his back to her as well. “Good night.”
A quiet minute passed.
“Gabriel?”
“Hmm?”
Heather paused. “Thanks for letting me sleep next to you. I feel safe now.”
Something inside Gabriel warmed. “You’re welcome,” he said and drifted to sleep.
54
Scarlet sat on the couch and stared at the fireplace before her, watching the flames slowly subside. Outside, the wind howled, making the small hut creak and moan in protest. The sun had set hours ago and the storm had grown more violent in its absence.
The forest was a black mess of wind, rain, thunder and lightning. But inside, there was nothing but the thick fog of uncomfortable silence.
Tristan had spent the entire day in the small back bedroom of the shack, only exiting to build and rebuild the fire by the couch and offer Scarlet food.
She hadn’t been hungry.
Scarlet had tried, unsuccessfully, to start conversations with him each time he tended to the fire, but he had given her short answers and avoided looking at her.
Conflicting emotions had been playing ping-pong inside him all day.
Determination…longing…sadness…love…fear…. It was heart wrenching.
She almost wished she couldn’t feel him.
Almost.
She hadn’t been able to get Tristan—or her flashback of the two of them together—out of her head all day.
They had kissed. They had touched. They had broken the rules.
And Scarlet had loved every second of it.
&n
bsp; Well, right up until the part where Tristan pulled away from her in horror. That part sucked.
She understood now, why he was so careful, so afraid.
She also understood that he loved her. Which made her heart soar and plummet at the same time.
The small bedroom door creaked open for the second time since the sun set and Scarlet tightened the soft blanket around her.
Tristan’s footsteps echoed in her ears as he made his way back to the fireplace and began adding more wood. He had a shirt on this time. Which was disappointing, but less distracting.
Shifting in her seat, Scarlet absently felt his emotions still warring inside him.
“It’s late and the rain is still pouring.” Tristan stabbed at the charred logs. “You can sleep in the bed tonight. The heater keeps the back room pretty warm. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“Sure.” Suddenly, she had butterflies in her stomach. She cleared her throat and braved the subject she’d been trying to avoid all day and night. The subject she wouldn’t be able to avoid even if she banished it to Mars. “I had a flashback.”
He turned to look at her over his shoulder. “You did?”
“Last night.” She nodded. “When I was…touching you.”
Touching you sounded less stalkerish than lying prostrate on top of you.
He stopped poking the fire and faced her, still crouching. “What about?”
Scarlet licked her lips. “You and me. In my last life.”
She tried not to blush.
She failed.
He watched her face for a moment, no doubt feeling the desire swelling up inside her. Her cheeks grew hotter.
So embarrassing.
Tristan bit the inside of his cheek, nervousness shooting through him as he looked at the floor and cleared his throat. “And what were we doing? In your memory?” His eyes stayed on the rug beneath his feet.
“Uh…”Scarlet bit her lip. “Not behaving.”
It was silent in the room, save for the storm outside.
She swallowed. “It felt like…like maybe I pulled you into the flashback with me, somehow. Did…did you…?”
Tristan nodded, his eyes still on the floor. He rubbed the back of his neck and exhaled slowly. “What happened between us was…” desire, fear, desire, fear, “a mistake.”
Awry (The Archers of Avalon, Book Two) Page 26