I haven’t been out on a date in a while and I forgot the nerve-racking few hours of preparation before your date picks you up.

I’d showered and put a little bit of make up on my face—a light pat of blush of my cheeks, a dab of cherry lip balm and a swipe of mascara. I wore my long hair down, its light, natural waves cascading on my back. I pinned one side up slightly with a small and pretty silver barrette the shape of a dragon fly.

I bought a new dress—it was off-shoulder with a flouncy skirt and it was watermelon pink. I wore it with a pair of white, wedge espadrilles, the closest I’ve got to fancy high heels.

When I told Mary Anne and Patrick my plans for the evening, they both looked sincerely stunned. I left quickly enough to leave no room for further questioning. I knew what they were thinking but I didn’t want to talk about it. I had every intention of enjoying this date.

Jack himself cleaned up quite nicely, wearing jeans and a blue, buttoned-up, collared shirt, his hair neatly slicked back.

He arrived in a dark blue pick-up truck and had a small bouquet of pink tulips for me.

“You look lovely,” he said with a big, appreciative smile, offering me a hand so I could climb up into his truck.

“Thanks. You look great yourself.”

I watched him on the corner of my eye as he pulled out of the driveway.

Jack was a really handsome guy in that strong, dependable, protective kind of way that makes you think of marriage and children. Wasn’t that most women in my age look for in a mate? 

I shook the thought out of my head. This was a first date. We’re not making a wedding guest list yet.

The drive to Hillside was a little over half an hour. The town is about the size of Willow but it thrived more on doing a lot of industrial work for farm equipment and construction materials. 

He took me to Dixie’s Grill for an impressive peppercorn steak and over dinner Jack told me about some of his adventures as a firefighter, his younger sister and his childhood. I told him about my parents, my brother and the bakeshop. It was a relaxed and refreshing conversation with no mention of anything supernatural.

He asked if I wanted to hang out at his favorite bar and I said yes. If I was going to give this thing with Jack a chance, I had to keep an open mind.

We were at a red light on our way to the bar when I spied a very familiar burgundy Range Rover parked on the side of a corner bar named Hedley’s based on the neon pink sign above the door.

There couldn’t be that many Range Rovers in that color in this part of the state.

“Hey, Jack,” I asked, sounding casual. “What’s at Hedley’s? That bar over there?”

He tilted his head to look and his expression went grim just ever so slightly. “It’s just another bar but a lot of weirdos hang out there. A lot of transients through town stop by there as well. Not a good place, in my personal opinion.”

Then just as the car in front of us started rolling at the light change, I watched as the Range Rover’s door opened and out stepped Tristan from the passenger seat as a tall and statuesque woman in a black dress and blood red shawl came out from the bar and met him with an intimate embrace, her mouth clamping on to his.

Something that felt like a fist hit me in the gut, worsening when I realized he wasn’t pushing her away.

I quickly lost sight of them as Jack drove on and I forced myself to push the thought out of my head. Tristan made no promises and certainly did not plead to be an exception so he could kiss anyone he wanted and apparently he’d been busy. I had a quick flashback of the first time I walked in on him and that alone told me all that I needed to know about my chances of being with someone like Tristan.

“Are you okay?” Jack said, glancing at me in concern. 

I pasted a smile on my face. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just haven’t been out in a while so I’m still a little nervous.”

Jack smiled and reached out to squeeze my hand reassuringly. He was careful to start pulling it away so as to not appear too direct, I guess, but I caught his hand with my fingers and held on.

We arrived at Country Pub which definitely looked more inviting than Hedley’s.

I kept my hold on Jack’s hand, which he didn’t mind at all, as we walked in. It wasn’t crowded but a couple of guys waved at him from the bar and he looked at me for permission. I smiled and shrugged and soon found ourselves in a small group of firefighters. Hillside houses the fire response facility for this part of the county so go figure.

“Ollie, this is Andrew, Larry, Steve and Randy,” Jack rambled off the introductions as the four men smiled at me broadly and took turns shaking my hand. “Everyone, this lovely lady I’m honored to be with tonight is Ollie Vance who also happens to be a wicked pastry chef from Willow. Remember, Dave’s box of goodies from Belle’s Bakeshop?”

Everyone remembered and gushed about it and although I was flattered by the attention, something was bothering me and I couldn’t shake it off.

Jack asked if I wanted to get a private table but I told him I was fine joining in with the rest who all seemed caught up talking about a fire rescue gone wrong in another county.

I ordered a glass of iced tea and was taking my time with it as I listened but something kept gnawing at me.

Hedley’s was only a couple of blocks away. 

I could just quickly take a peek and make sure everything was alright and I’d be back before Jack could wonder why I haven’t been out of the powder room yet. 

“I just need to freshen up. Will you be alright for a few minutes?” I whispered to Jack, touching his shoulder and leaning in close enough that I could inhale his light musky cologne.

He moved his face towards me, liking the closeness, and smiled. “Yeah, sure. Take your time. I’ll be here.”

“Thanks, Jack.” I beamed at him and pressed a light, quick kiss on his cheek before turning to go, aware of the silent cheers his friends who saw that.

As I slipped out and started walking towards Hedley’s, something told me this was going to be a mistake I would strongly regret but my legs kept going. I wouldn’t exactly call myself intuitive but something bad was about to happen. I could feel it in the ugly knot in my stomach. As to why I thought walking straight into it all by myself was a bright idea, I didn’t know.

After about five minutes, I finally made it to the corner where Hedley’s was seated.  I could still see Tristan’s car and as I crossed the dark back alley between Hedley’s and a row of small stores, I heard an unmistakable groan.

I froze and my head whipped around, finding a figure in the shadows beside the dumpster.

“Hello?” I called out, looking around to see if anyone could rush to my rescue if this turned out to be a mugger lurking await for his victim. “Who is it?”

“Miss Ollie,” the pained voice said and after rifling through my memory, I recognized the voice.

“Stigger!” I said, running towards the figure who lay on his side on the ground. 

I came closer and through a slice of light coming out from a lamp post in the middle of the alley, I saw his face. Beads of sweat were on his forehead and he was wincing in pain.

“What happened?” I asked, crouching down to see what was causing the pain. He rolled over to his left side, exposing a huge gash on his right, just under the ribcage where a large dagger of some sort was sticking out.

I gasped at the sight but ordered myself to stay level-headed. “We have to get you help, Stigger. I should call 911.”

“No,” he said in a ragged series of breaths. “I can heal... b-but we... have to get i-it... out.”

“Do you want me to pull it out?” I asked, terrified at my own suggestion. 

He barely managed nodding. “S-slowly...Jagged... blade. F-fucking hurts. Those demons. Are f-fucked.”

I bit my lip in panic, unsure of what to do as I wrapped my hand around the handle. “We have no other option but to draw it out. I’ll try to keep a steady hand but it’s going to cut through you like hell. Are you with me?”

He nodded again, his normally warm, tanned face paling with every second.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered before closing my eyes and pulling the dagger out in one smooth stroke, soliciting a muffled cry of pain from him.

I fell on my butt at the effort and the dagger fell in a clang on the ground. The blade was maybe about six inches long and it was now coated in dark red blood.

“We’ve got to get you out of here,” I said, looking around but no one was around. “Where’s Tristan? Did something happen to him too?”

I fought back the tears, telling myself to stay calm. My hands had blood on them, the sight scaring me to a point that I just wiped them both down on the front of my pink dress, leaving what looked like watercolor marks on the fabric.

“You’ve got to g-get to him, O-Ollie,” Stigger was saying as he slowly pulled himself up to a sitting position. “Were-demons came looking. Inside bar. Tristan.”

My heart lurched. “Where are the others? Cage, the vampires?”

“Full moon. Cage. Out. Girls. Mansion,” he explained as best as he could, his hand pressed against the wound that was still bleeding heavily. “Just me. Tristan. Inside talking. I stepped out. Were-demons waiting. Looking. Tristan. Get him.”

“Can you talk to him in your mind?” I asked in desperation. “Can you tell him what’s happened?”

He shook his head. “No. Only he reads. If he wants. Go. Four demons. Plus splits.”

I nodded firmly and put a hand on his leg. “Hang tight. I’ll go get him and we’ll be out of here.”

Without any more second-guessing, I strode towards the bar, wiping my hands clean against the skirt in what I hoped wasn’t such a noticeable pattern.

There was a bouncer on the door—large, bald and typically thuggish—and I flashed him my brightest smile and held up my driver’s license.

He gave a cursory glance at it before giving me a quick look-over and before he could notice the stains on my skirt, I pinched the side and sort of folded the skirt over the and did a flirty curtsy.

He smiled and stepped aside to let me in. Thank God for most men’s predictability.

The bar was much darker inside than Country Pub and it was crowded too for a Wednesday night. There were two girls on some sort of stage in the front dancing around a pole and the faces in the crowd were hard to recognize from the dark lighting except for the neon floodlights that seemed to spin around the space.

I slipped my hand into my purse and found the small bottle of wolfsbane Tristan had given me. I’ve been carrying it since. I looked around, trying to spot Tristan’s tall blond head but he wasn’t in the crowd. I looked up and spotted a loft area of some sort that led into what appeared to be an office or VIP room with a large glass window that overlooked the dance floor.

I located the long staircase set against the wall and as I reached the first landing, I spied a glimpse of blond hair inside the better lit room. I wasn’t sure what to find but I went up another flight of stairs and found myself looking straight at two stocky guys in black standing a few feet away from the door.

“Sorry, lady. This is off-limits to customers,” one of them said, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

I gave them one of my prettiest smiles but they didn’t budge.

Reminding myself of the death sentence I was asking for and cursing myself for still wanting to do it, I gripped the spray bottle harder before spritzing both of their faces with it.

They both jumped and clutched their faces in pain and seizing the opportunity, I slipped past them and hurled myself through the door.

I stumbled in, barely catching my balance, and found myself looking straight at Tristan who was sitting on a a chair in front of what looked like an office desk, the lady I saw him making out with outside mounted on his lap, the skirt of her black dress hiked all the way up to her thighs.

“For the love of God, Tristan!” I sputtered furiously, looking away as my cheeks burnt in embarrassment.  “You’ve got to stop being in the middle of these goddamned situations when I walk in because I’m certainly getting tired of being an audience to this.”

The woman laughed but her humor was cut short when Tristan suddenly got up on his feet, causing her to slide down but she had the quick reflexes of someone supernatural. From the corner of my eye, I could see that his fly was still zipped close but it didn’t make me feel any better.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded, his voice cold and angry.

Then someone stumbled in behind me and grabbed my arm. 

“Hold it,” Tristan commanded and the two guards I sprayed and who followed me inside let me go.

“She sprayed us with wolfsbane,” one of them hissed, grabbing the bottle I still held in my hand. “It’s not going to kill us but it sure fucking stings.”

“Who’s this, Tristan?” the woman asked, her expression not so amused now. She was beautiful and statuesque with bright green eyes, dark brown hair and the same complexion as Irina and Arabella. Vampire.

I didn’t wait for Tristan to answer. I looked at him, forcing him to read my mind.

Stigger’s outside and he’s bleeding. More were-demons tracked you down here and they attacked him and they’re now inside the bar, I explained to him. He said there were four of them plus their possible splits. You’ve got to get out of here.

He looked down at my dress, seeing the stains, and nodded. 

He grabbed the woman and pulled her towards the window that overlooked the dance floor. “We’ve got some were-demons who followed me in, Louisa. Can you see any unfamiliar face?”

Louisa shrugged. “Of course, I can. We’ve got transients in here all the time.” She turned to her two guards. “Find them.”

Then she turned back to Tristan. “Go through the back stairs. You know the way.”

I didn’t mutter a single protest when Tristan grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me towards the door behind the desk and down the narrow staircase.

At the end of it was a hallway of what looked like led to washrooms but as we turned the corner, about four of six large, familiar figures lunged at us.

In the chaos and dimness of the hallway, I lost sight of Tristan and my screams were muffled by the weight that suddenly pinned me against the wall. 

I could hear grunts and growls and kicks and punches, flesh tearing and bones crunching. 

Then something sharp sank into my shoulder and I screamed in pain, more from the burning sensation that bloomed on my bitten flesh than the puncture in it.

The weight was suddenly lifted off of me by some force I couldn’t see and I sagged against the wall, my legs weak that I started making my way down to the floor.

My shoulder burned and the fire that started there slowly spread through my arm and back.

My vision was drifting in and out and I could barely make sense of what was going on around me.

My face felt very cold. In fact, every other part of my body that didn’t feel like burning, felt like it was slowly turning into solid blocks of ice.

I was muttering incoherently, unable to even make out what I was saying. 

Then, I felt a pair of strong arms lift me off the floor and I draped over them like a wilted flower, the warmth seeping out of my eyes, nose and mouth.

“...the hell... stay awake...Ollie...of all places... safe...stay with me...”

The words were like a distant echo, like a song withering into a whisper. 

I couldn’t tell what was happening but I knew the noise had subsided. I could see flashes of light. Then I felt the cold, startling touch of something like leather. 

I started saying things again that I couldn’t hear myself.

What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I hear myself clearly? Why couldn’t I see anything but a jumble of light and shadows?

I felt the tears form around my eyes, scalding hot as they trailed down my ice cold cheeks.

Was this death?

If it was, then it had come too soon.

***

The bright light was blinding, slicing through my heavy head like a knife.

I groaned, rolling my head to one side and feeling the soft fabric of what I strongly suspected was a pillow case.

I stretched one eye open, my hand raising to block the light but that turned out to be an awful mistake as pain shot through my shoulder and down my arm all the way up to my fingertips.

I muttered a string of words that would probably make my parents turn in their grave but all I heard was a soft laugh.

“I never thought I’d hear those dirty words come out of that pretty mouth.”

I opened the other eye, waiting as the light stopped dancing in my vision and finally focused on the face staring at me.

“Tristan,” I said but the words came out dry and scratchy. He handed me a glass of water and raised it to my lips and held it steady as I drank.

“Easy,” he said as he clasped either side of my waist and lifted me up enough so I could sit and lean against the pile of pillows between me and the headboard.

“Where am I?” I asked, looking around and inspecting the unfamiliar yet luxuriously comforting room.

“In the Mansion,” he answered, drawing my attention to him. He was perched on the side of the bed in jeans and a black shirt, his face tight with agitation that made his fine features look severe.

Quick flashes of jumbled memories started cropping up in my mind.

I smiled. “You’re alive.”

He looked at me, his eyes quiet but furious. 

“You nearly die of a were-demon poison and the first thing you acknowledge is that I’m alive,” he said, his anger apparent but controlled. “Of course, I’m alive, Ollie. And I will stay alive as I have in the last twelve hundred years!”

The anger had snapped the leash. It was out in full force now and his expression was dark and menacing as he got up and started pacing around the room.

He turned around and glared at me. “You, on the other hand, are a weak, feeble little human who could die with just a bit of thrashing around.”

I winced at his anger that was palpable even to my unfocused senses. “You’re welcome, jerk.”

As the memories from last night began putting themselves together, tears started filling my eyes and I shut them close, determined not to let them out, especially not in front of Tristan who felt it was an appropriate time to lecture me back to health.

“Don’t you do the waterworks on me now, Ollie,” he warned in a strained voice. “You’ve got to hear this. You’ve got to realize how stupid and reckless you were doing what you did last night. That club was crawling with creatures who would’ve loved to feast on you in that goddamned dress.”

Through my tears, I looked down at my dress and was relieved to find it still mostly in tact. I finally caught sight of the bandage that covered my right shoulder. 

“You were lucky we got you back here in time and Arabella’s cure still worked on you,” he went on, pacing as he did, his hand shoving through his hair. “What were you thinking storming in to save me?”

“I didn’t have a choice, okay?” I finally snapped, weary of his bruising anger. “Stigger was badly injured and you had no idea you were in danger. How was I to know you’d just figure it out especially when you were obviously preoccupied playing saddle with that woman!”

I don’t know why my conversation steered into that direction but it was too late. The jealousy was ringing loud and clear after my words. I cringed and looked away.

“Louisa Hedley owns the club. She’s an old acquaintance,” he slowly said. “I came to see if she had any information about the were-demons.”

I refused to look at him. “I don’t need an explanation, Tristan. I just want to go home, okay?” 

When he didn’t say anything, I picked at the intricate embroidery on the bed covers. “How’s Stigger?”

“He’s almost fully healed,” he answered in a clipped voice. “I am yet to have another conversation with him about why he thought it was a good idea to send you in on your own.”

“I went in on my own, okay? Stop blaming anyone else!” 

I finally met his eyes with my own angry glare.

Then the door pushed open and in came a slightly limping Stigger who looked back and forth between us uncertainly. “Um, everything okay here, Miss Ollie?”

Tristan just glowered at him and I nodded at him reassuringly before he backed out of the room and closed the door.

“Now, you’ve got him wagging his tail for you like a sick puppy dog,” he muttered, his arms crossing in front of him. As he stood in front of the large glass window filled with sunshine that outlined his magnificent frame, he reminded me of a sinister angel, if such things existed. 

“Are you adding him to the list of men you’ve got wrapped around your little finger like that Jack guy who’s been calling your cellphone all night?” he demanded, his own voice betraying a trace of jealousy, if my hearing was accurate. 

“Oh, my God. I totally forgot about Jack!” I exclaimed, shuffling around the bed to look for my purse, wincing at the slight bite of pain on my shoulder. “Where’s my phone? He must’ve been worried sick about me!”

“He’s already been called,” Tristan bristled. “Arabella called him back and talked to him in your voice and told him you felt sick and took a taxi home. Arabella forgot the little tidbit about taxis barely existing here but I think other than that, he pretty much bought it. He said he’ll be over to see you at your place later this afternoon.”

I kicked the sheets off. “Then I better get home. Where are my shoes and my purse?”

“You’re not going anywhere, Ollie,” he said through gritted teeth. “You’re not well enough yet.”

“I’ll be fine,” I insisted stubbornly, finally spotting my purse and shoes by the armchair on one corner of the room.

My legs were still a bit shaky that I staggered when I got up from the bed and in a flash, Tristan was by my side, holding me steady.

When I found my footing, I moved away from him and slowly made my way to the armchair. 

“Here, take this,” he said, walking over to me with the refilled glass of water and a small bottle. “Arabella left it for you to drink so the healing could be completed. It shouldn’t leave any scars.”

I looked at the unlabeled bottle before popping off its lid and sipping the bitter liquid down.

I gagged a bit at the revolting taste but Tristan quickly supplied the water which washed the rest of the medicine down my throat.

“Thanks,” I mumbled as I picked up my shoes and purse. I turned to him. “Are you driving me home or should I call one of my friends to pick me up?”

He exhaled sharply, his eyes guarded now. “I’ll drive you home.”

He grabbed a light gray shawl from the arm rest of a chair and draped it over my shoulders.

We didn’t say anything else as I followed him slowly downstairs to his car. 

He scooped me up in his arms before depositing me in the passenger seat and wordlessly took my shoes from me and strapped them on my feet.

The shoulder definitely felt better after that last swig of Arabella’s magic potion but I was still groggy and my head still felt several pounds heavier than normal.

As we neared my house, I tried glancing at the mirror but couldn’t move enough to see. Finally, I turned and asked him, “Do I look like crap?”

He barely moved his head in my direction and I couldn’t see through the dark aviator sunglasses he had on. “You certainly look like you had a rough night.”

Then he gingerly reached out and straightened the dragonfly barrette on my hair. “There. All better.”

Tears threatened at the simple, gentle gesture but I forced them back down.

When the house came into view, we both immediately saw Jack’s blue pick up truck in front.

He was sitting on the front steps in a fresh white shirt and jeans. He looked up as the Range Rover pulled into the driveway.

My heart raced more because of the tension I could already feel tightening inside Tristan and the way Jack’s eyes narrowed as the car stopped in front of him.

Jack got up on his feet and watched in silence as Tristan got out of the car and opened my door.

I tried not to move sluggishly, hoping Jack wouldn’t notice anything was wrong except for the part that I was coming home in last night’s outfit with a different man.

I pulled the shawl over in front of me to cover the stains on my skirt as I slowly walked up to Jack, trying to get a smile out.

“Hey,” I greeted him softly, grateful that Tristan stayed back.

“I’m sorry I left without telling you,” I said, reaching out to touch his arm. “I wasn’t feeling great and um, Tristan’s neice had something to help me with it so I stayed over with her until I felt better.”

God. The lies. I really hated the lies.

“It’s okay,” Jack said gently, his guarded expression softening. “I just wish you’d told me and I wouldn’t have kept you out late. I was worried sick about you.”

My heart tugged at his kindness. “Thanks, Jack, but I’ll be fine after a little bit more rest. Let’s make plans some other time, okay? I promise I’ll make it up to you. I feel terrible.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he assured me, glancing darkly at Tristan. “Do you need to me to hang around?”

“She said she just needed rest,” Tristan spoke up from behind me and I resisted the urge to turn around and glare at him. “I’m sure you’ll hear from her when she requires your company.”

I smiled apologetically at Jack. He looked like he was seriously considering confronting Tristan but I put what I hoped was a calming hand on his chest. “I will call you, Jack. I promise. I just need to lie down now.”

He gave Tristan one last lingering look before taking my hand and giving it a quick squeeze. “Alright. I’ll go. Take care of yourself, Ollie.”

I watched as Jack got into his truck and drove off, my heart heaving at the realization that I was probably never going to see him again. He would think I was totally playing him while I was seeing another guy. 

I glowered at Tristan before turning to make my way up the front steps.

“You didn’t have to scare him off, you know?” I grumbled as I fished out my keys. “He was a really nice guy and I actually liked him.”

His face remained passive but his eyes were harder to read. “Sure, whatever. If you really cared enough about him, you wouldn’t have easily ditched him in your haste to rescue me.”

I shot him a look of daggers. “Don’t make me wish I didn’t.”

I stepped into my house and the familiarity immediately comforted me but it was short-lived because Tristan strode right in and went straight to the kitchen.

He filled the kettle with water and set it on the stove. 

“Don’t you need to be somewhere else?” I demanded, throwing my purse on the couch and kicking off my espadrilles. “Like maybe out hunting down those were-demons?”

“They’re all dead,” he answered simply. “If they keep coming, I’ll just keep killing them.”

I flashed him a sarcastic smile. “How convenient. I’m very grateful that you and your friends saved my life as well last night but I don’t need to be babysat, Tristan. You can go. I’ll take it from here.”

I walked up the staircase and headed for the bathroom. Locking the door behind me, I eased out of my dirty dress. It was ruined for good.

I turned the shower on and let the stall fill with steam as I carefully removed the barrette from my hair and took off the only jewelry I wear—a watch, a pair of white gold hoop earrings and a charm bracelet. I slipped off all of my undergarments and faced the mirror to figure out how to deal with the bandage on my shoulder.

I peeled off one corner to see what it looked like. I expected a horrible bite mark with torn flesh and dried blood but my eyes widened when all that I saw was a brownish, slight pucker of flesh of where the wound was and the just the reddened skin around it.

“Well, that girl is surely a miracle worker,” I murmured as I slowly peeled off the rest of the bandage and dumped it in the trash. 

I stepped into the shower and closed my eyes, letting the warm stream of water wash away the terrifying memories of last night. 

I was alive. 

Tristan and Stigger were alive. 

The were-demons were dead—at least for now. 

I gasped at the sound of a dull thud and wiping the water off my eyes, I turned to look and found Tristan quickly chucking off his clothes. In a matter of seconds, he was standing naked next to me in the shower stall.

“What the hell do you—“

The rest of my sentence died in my throat as Tristan bent to claim my mouth in a brazen kiss, his arms sliding behind my waist and pulling me close against him.

The fire returned between my legs as my eyes closed and let the other senses take over. The water slicked between our pressed skin, his desire making itself known as its warmth and hardening shape rested against my stomach. I could feel his chest rising and falling beneath my palms as I returned his kiss, tasting his mouth and tongue.

I nearly cried out when he pulled away but in the dimness and steam of the shower, I could see a faint smile on his lips as he reached for the sponge and the bottle of body wash on the caddy hanging off of the shower head. 

He worked the soap into a lather as he started gently rubbing it around my neck and arms, careful to avoid the spot of the fading wound. 

“Come here,” he said softly, turning me around so he could start soaping my back.

I couldn’t think of anything else but this moment—just me and Tristan and a perfectly mutual understanding that we needed each other—or that I needed him at the very least.

He must need me. 

Otherwise, why on earth would someone like Tristan Black be in my house, bathing me as if I was as fragile as glass?

I sighed in content as his hands moved down the curves of my breasts, his fingers gentle and attentive as they grazed my hardening nipples. Then they moved down the slope of my stomach, spreading out to trace the curves of where my hips flared.

His hands were everywhere, it seemed. 

I stifled a gasp as he found that warm, aching spot between my legs, his fingers cupping the slight mound. But his hand left as quickly as it had hovered, moving away to slope down the cheeks of my butt and around my thighs.

I slowly turned back around to face him, my eyes searching his through the mist.

“Tristan,” I said in a voice I didn’t recognize, my hand reaching up to anchor on his neck as I stood on tiptoes, leaning against his steady frame. “Kiss me.”

He dipped his head to grant me my wish, his mouth warm and soft and eager.

After a few minutes of slow, torturously pleasurable kissing, he wrapped an arm around my waist and lifted me up slightly, stepping out of the shower as the water stopped with a silent command from him.

He put me down, his mouth still on mine, and without turning, grabbed a towel from the rail on the wall and wrapped it around me. Then he scooped me up and without abandoning our kiss for a second, he carried me to my bedroom and plopped me down on the bed. 

I watched as he stood there at the end of the bed, his gloriously naked and perfect body glistening with water. Light golden hair that darkened with the dampness trailed towards his sex that unabashedly displayed his intentions.

He knelt one knee on the bed and gently cupping my left hip, lifted me as he pulled the towel from underneath me. He quickly dabbed himself dry before climbing on all fours on the bed on top of me. 

His blue eyes were ablaze as he resumed kissing me, one of his hands moving from my neck down to my right shoulder where he tightened his hold to pull me up towards him.

Pain darted on that shoulder, reminding me of the injury, and I cried out before I could stop myself. Tristan immediately backed off, his face contorting with a combination of emotions I’ve never seen before.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered after a moment, reaching behind him to pick up the pink cotton night dress I had left on the edge of the bed. He gently helped me sit up and slipped the night dress over my head.

I couldn’t understand why he was dressing me. I looked up to him searchingly, unable to voice my confusion and protest but he just collected me in his arms and lay down on his side, slipping our legs under the white cotton covers that were just slightly damp. 

“You need to rest,” he murmured against my ear, his arm draped over my side, my back pressed against him, our legs intertwined. “Sleep, sweetheart. I’ll be here.”

I opened my mouth to attempt a weak protest but my lids grew heavy, my breathing slowing down.

I couldn’t clearly remember what happened next. I heard words that sounded like music, whispered like feather kisses. 

His arms were warm and protective around me, his smell familiar and comforting and my last thought was that I couldn’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be.