Anew: The Archers of Avalon, Book One (19 page)

Kick back?

Relax?

Was he
crazy
? Some weirdo broke into her house while she was sleeping and now she was being forced to hang out with a guy who hated her in the middle of nowhere.

How was she supposed to relax?

Scarlet watched his eyes fill with reassurance and she let the fight drain out of her. There was no convincing him to stay. He was trying to help her—to save her. And she should let him.

So, why did she feel like Gabriel was giving her over to the wolves?

Probably because big bad Tristan lives downstairs.

After saying goodbye, Gabriel left Scarlet standing barefoot and alone in the cabin’s big entryway. His car faded down the driveway until all that was left was a trail of dust and an empty cabin.

Well, empty save for the two people inside.

Scarlet looked around for a minute.

She hated that she was, essentially, trapped in the woods with Tristan.

Sure, he was beautiful and enticing in an inexplicable way.

But he was also a jerk.

Scarlet sighed to herself, sucked it up, and headed upstairs to Gabriel’s bedroom.

She needed to find a way to make her time in the cabin not suck.

Starting with a shower.

Tristan gathered his arrows from the bull’s-eye for the fifth time that morning.

Target practice wasn’t helping.

It should. It usually did. But something was off.

And Tristan knew exactly what it was.

The cold morning wind whipped around his head as he walked back to his aiming point. He could stay outside all day, if necessary. And he would, if that would keep him away from Scarlet.

Gabriel was a fool.

The more Scarlet was around Tristan, the faster his blood would break her heart.

He just needed to keep his distance for the next twenty-four hours and pray her heart didn’t weaken anymore than necessary.

Whoosh.

Bull’s-eye.

Whoosh.

Another bull’s-eye.

He heard the upstairs shower turn on—Gabriel’s shower.

Scarlet was in Gabriel’s shower.

Tristan swallowed and drew back another arrow.

Whoosh.

Miss.

He hung his head.

The next twenty-four hours were going to be harder than he thought.

Scarlet roamed around Gabriel’s room for a few hours, trying to keep herself occupied. Her heart was still thrumming away relentlessly inside her, but she’d almost gotten used to its nonstop jumping.

Almost.

After her shower, she put on some of Gabriel’s clean clothes, but they were too big and felt…wrong.

So, she put on her pajama pants and T-shirt from the night before instead.

Gabriel had a few books on his dresser that she flipped through, but they were all about gourmet food and sporting events and the stock market.

Bor-ing.

His schoolbooks were on a desk in the corner and Scarlet briefly entertained the idea of studying, but quickly dismissed it.

She wasn’t
that
bored.

She did, however, grab a notebook and a pen from his schoolbook pile and start doodling.

She sketched the symbol burned in her brain over and over until she’d filled up two pages with its design. It was weird she remembered the design so clearly, yet Gabriel—who’d known her for five hundred years—hadn’t recognized it.

Scarlet thought for a moment.

Or…
had
he?

He’d been interested in it at the beginning of the year, before he’d told her their history, so maybe he knew what it was and hadn’t told her yet.

When Gabriel got home, she was going to ask him again about the symbol’s meaning.

Scarlet stopped doodling and started making a list of things she needed from her house.

Clothes.

Shoes.

Makeup….

Why do I need makeup? Who am I trying to impress, Tristan?

Not in this lifetime.

She scratched out makeup and replaced it with
new phone.

Scarlet shook her head as she thought about how casually Tristan had thrown away her phone—her lifeline.

She set the notebook down and left Gabriel’s room.

Tristan owed her a new phone. Today.

Her bare feet padded down the stairs and wandered around the living room and kitchen in search of Tristan.

When the kitchen and living room proved empty, Scarlet made her way down the hallway. She passed the flight of stairs leading to the basement and immediately rejected any idea of venturing down into Tristan’s turf. She could wait him out upstairs all day if she had to. She wasn’t going into the Archer dungeon.

In front of her, the office door was cracked open. Scarlet peeked through.

Tristan sat at the large desk, his eyes scanning a computer screen.

She tapped on the door, chastised herself for being so meek—especially considering she’d known Tristan for centuries—and let herself in like she belonged there.

She wasn’t going to act like a scared mouse around him.

“You owe me a new phone,” Scarlet said, demanding Tristan’s attention. “Today.”

He glanced at her before looking back to the computer. “Not gonna happen.”

Scarlet plopped down on a chair across from the desk and leaned forward. “Listen, I understand that you couldn’t care less about me, but I’m stuck here and I’d like a way to communicate with the outside world.”

Tristan closed his laptop screen and met her gaze. “The ‘outside world’ is trying to hurt you. So, forgive me, if I’m not jumping to accommodate your request for a new phone.”

Scarlet squared her jaw and stood up. “You
will
get me a new phone. And also, I need to run home and get clothes. I didn’t exactly get to pack a suitcase last night.”

Tristan looked her over.

He was probably just making a note of what clothes she
did
have, but it felt more personal than that.

His eyes ran down her pajamed body. Slowly. Intimately.

Scarlet’s heart kicked up a notch as desire shot through her.

She wanted to slap him.

Or herself.

She wasn’t sure.

“Nope,” Tristan said, looking away from her and opening his computer back up. “No field trips to the outside world.”

Scarlet pressed her palms flat on the desk above Tristan. She was angry. And he wasn’t her boss. “You can’t just keep me here like some prisoner.”

“Then leave.”

She narrowed her eyes, but said nothing.

“If you want to go running around the backwoods of Georgia while some crazy person is hunting you down, by all means, go.” His green eyes flashed. “I’ll tell Gabriel you said goodbye.”

Scarlet pursed her lips.

She was barefoot, without any money or a cell phone, and wearing thin cotton pajamas in the cold autumn of Georgia.

Leaving the cabin by foot wasn’t an option.

Was he bluffing?

She leaned in to examine his challenging eyes more closely.

The smell of leather and soap met her nostrils, shooting warmth and need through her veins.

What is
wrong
with me?

Her eyes burned as she tried to keep her gaze steady.

Tristan leaned across the desk, his face mere inches from hers. With a menacing voice he said, “You need to leave.”

Scarlet held his gaze a moment longer, before swallowing and pulling back.

She was trapped and there was nothing she could do about it.

“Agh.” She huffed and stormed out of the office.

Even as she walked away, furious and frustrated, there was still a hint of longing in her stomach. Something inside her wanted to run back to Tristan and…hug him.

Or more.

Scarlet shook her head and climbed back up to Gabriel’s room, where she spent the rest of the day flipping through boring books.

And, yes, studying.

Tristan woke up in the middle of the night. Hungry.

Which was impossible, since he’d eaten right before he’d gone to bed.

His hunger could only mean one thing:
Scarlet
was hungry.

He groaned.

His connection to her was getting stronger by the second. And more and more ridiculous. Now he could feel when she was hungry? Ugh.

Tristan stared up at his bedroom ceiling and thought about the girl two floors above him. She was probably still sleeping peacefully, dreaming of Gabriel and rainbows or something.

He closed his eyes in a futile attempt to fall back asleep.

No success.

With a sigh, he got up and trudged upstairs.

He should just stay in bed. He should at least pretend he didn’t feel hungry—he knew he wasn’t.

So, why was he headed into the kitchen to make pancakes?

Because he was weak.

And because Scarlet loved pancakes.

In the kitchen, he quietly got out all the ingredients he needed and tried not to over-think his actions.

Maybe if he hurried and just left a plate of pancakes on the counter, he could go back to bed and pretend he wasn’t a pathetic fool.

He looked at the clock: 1:00 a.m.

That’s what he would do. Make pancakes and flee.

Scarlet awoke late in the night to hunger pains.

Amidst all her pouting earlier in the day, she’d failed to eat. And now her stomach was mad at her.

She rolled out of Gabriel’s comfortable bed and rummaged through his backpack, hoping to find a candy bar or banana or something.

Nothing.

She looked back at the warm bed. Did she really want to go downstairs and hunt for food?

Her stomach growled.

Yes. She did.

Scarlet sighed and rubbed her eyes before heading downstairs. She’d find a quick bite to eat and hurry back to Gabriel’s room.

Her heartbeat was loud but her footsteps silent as she stepped onto the main floor and rounded the corner into the kitchen.

She blinked.

There, with his back to her, stood Tristan.

Quietly cooking in the middle of the night.

Scarlet’s first instinct was to run back upstairs and avoid him altogether. She’d find a piece of gum or something to hold her over until morning.

But the smell of pancakes stopped her in her tracks and made her mouth water.

Tristan turned around and, seeing Scarlet at the far end of the kitchen, paused.

Neither of them moved for a moment as they locked gazes.

Scarlet felt something twitch inside her.

Something about the darkness outside, the comfort food inside, and Tristan looking at her like he’d been expecting her, made Scarlet feel….

Loved?

I’m insane. Obviously, my hunger has taken over my body and devoured all my brain cells.

She tucked her lips in and eyed the pancakes Tristan pulled from the pan. “Making a midnight snack?”

She tried to sound light and casual. Normal. Friendly.

Not because Tristan deserved it, but because she wanted pancakes. And Tristan, apparently, was keeper of the pancakes.

He looked away from her. “Something like that.”

He was tense. She could almost…
feel
it.

Scarlet shifted her weight. “Oh.”

Tristan didn’t look at her. “Are you hungry?” He moved around the stove to a plate piled with pancakes.

“A little,” Scarlet lied. She was starving.

Tristan nodded with his back to her. “Feel free to eat, then.”

Scarlet’s mouth watered even more, excited at the prospect of delving into a buttery pancake mountain.

Not wanting to stand around like a princess waiting to be served, Scarlet walked up behind Tristan to grab a plate off the counter and serve herself.

But when she neared his back he turned around, unaware she’d been so close behind him.

Their chests rubbed together for a split second, and Scarlet’s eyes went blind with a flash of colors.

Click.

A memory grew in her head.

Tristan was dressed in modern clothes and making her pancakes.

It was nighttime, and his hair was longer but his eyes were still a brilliant green. He was smiling as he put a plate of pancakes before her and she was laughing. On top of the pancakes was a smiley face made of fruit….

“Sorry,” Tristan mumbled, moving away from her, and pulling her out of the memory.

As Scarlet’s eyes regained focus, she blinked and looked at Tristan. “I remember you….”

Tristan’s eyes widened.

She cocked her head to the side. “I remember you…making pancakes for me…before.”

Tristan’s chest fell with his slow exhale. “Yes, well,” he looked away from her and brushed his hands against the pants he had on, “I’ve made food for you before.”

Scarlet raised her eyebrows, wondering if maybe Tristan hadn’t always hated her.

Maybe he’d even…
liked
her…in the past?

In last night’s memory, he’d held her in the forest. In tonight’s memory, he made her food and seemed happy to be with her.

So, what had changed between them?

Tristan rubbed the back of his neck. “Gabriel’s a lousy cook. So, you know. I help him out sometimes.”

Scarlet wrinkled her brow.

Something in his words didn’t ring true.

She nodded and pulled two hot pancakes onto a plate for herself. “Can I ask you something?”

She set the plate down and leaned against the counter, facing Tristan.

He hesitated.

She could tell he wanted to leave, she could feel him debating it inside himself.

Their “connection”
had
to be both ways—it was the only way to explain how she could feel what he felt.

His voice was strained like he had to force words out of his mouth when he slowly answered, “Uh, Sure.”

Scarlet wrinkled her brow and innocently asked, “Did you always hate me?”

It wasn’t a fair question, and it was a bit immature, but she didn’t care. Tristan had made her feel unwanted and unwelcome…but he was willing to share his pancakes with her?

It didn’t make sense.

Tristan’s face held no expression. “You think I hate you?”

Scarlet shrugged. “Do you?”

Tristan looked at the floor, then at the wall, and finally at Scarlet. “No.”

Their eyes locked for a minute and Scarlet’s chest tightened. He was so beautiful and guarded, like he had a thousand secrets and no one to trust.

She watched his green eyes and felt…sad. There was something hollow and hopeless about the way he was looking at her and she wanted to fix it.

Scarlet’s voice was soft when she stated, “You don’t hate me.”

He looked at her steadily. “No.”

Something warm and safe came over her as she scanned his face, trying to figure out just who Tristan Archer was.

He was more than Gabriel’s brother.

He was more than a guy with immortal blood.

In the back of her head, and the center of her heart, he was something…more.

Her eyes searched his for a long moment, before falling along his square jaw line. They traced down to his chin…then back up…eventually landing on his lips.

Lips just like Gabriel’s; full and perfectly shaped.

But something about Tristan’s mouth seemed…sexier….

Tristan shook his head, his voice raspy when he said, “Scarlet.”

It wasn’t a question, or a demand. Just her name. On his perfect lips.

And it made her stomach wild with butterflies.

Was he breathing harder than before?

Scarlet looked at his chest, covered in a white T-shirt, as it rose and fell with each breath. It was a lovely chest. So strong and sure. So familiar…yet different than Gabriel’s….

She took a step closer to him, sliding her eyes along his collarbone and broad shoulders.

She expected him to take a step back, to shy away from her approaching body, but he didn’t. He stood perfectly still, his breath uneven.

Scarlet looked back up at his eyes, now only inches from hers, and softened her face. “Who are you, Tristan?”

His eyes looked hopeless as they dove into hers. A moment passed, filled only by the sound of breathing. “Nobody,” he said.

Scarlet slowly shook her head. “No…you’re not nobody…you’re…somebody….” She could feel his body heat humming against her neck and chest as she stood before him. He was big and warm and she wanted to touch him.

Not in a bad way.

She just wanted to…press her hand…against his chest….

Scarlet didn’t move, but she thought about it.

She tried to tap into whatever connection she had to him—if any. She wanted to sense what he was feeling.

She let her soul reach inside his and felt….

Hesitation…conflict…danger…

His gaze darkened as his eyes left hers and slid down the side of her face to her neck. She could feel his eyes linger there, like her throat—her very
pulse
—belonged to him.

And the thought made her heart kick.

Still searching inside him, she felt...

…Desire…possession…

His eyes floated upwards…slowly and methodically…until they reached her lips. She watched him study her mouth and desire sparked in her cheeks before spreading into her chest.

…Longing…

And suddenly, the feeling—the
feelings
—were mutual.

She wanted him.

Tristan’s green eyes flashed, still fixated on her mouth, and Scarlet felt her heart squeeze.

Why did she want him?

Her eyes were burning.

Tristan’s eyes lingered on her mouth and, without thought or reason, Scarlet parted her lips….

His eyes shot up to hers, full of hunger and need—

Suddenly, he stiffened.

A look of alarm crossed his face as he examined her eyes.

His feelings morphed into…
fear…anger…pain
…and Scarlet blinked, confused.

He didn’t move. He didn’t back away from her. He just stared at her eyes. “I have to go.”

A beat passed, Tristan swallowed and then moved away from her, taking his body heat with him.

“I thought you were hungry.” Scarlet shifted her weight.

“I was.” Tristan turned to leave. “But I’m good now.” Without looking back, he left the kitchen.

Scarlet blinked.

What just happened?

As crazy as it sounded, Scarlet felt abandoned.

But worse than that, she felt heartbroken.