Authors: Kristie Cook
Tags: #alexis ames, #amadis, #angels and demons, #contemporary fantasy adult, #daemoni, #fantasy adult, #kristie cook, #paranormal, #paranormal adult, #paranormal romance, #promise, #tristan knight, #urban fantasy, #urban fantasy adult, #urban fantasy romance
"What? You think your saliva heals? Like a
dog
?" I snarled.
"Actually, yes…it does," Tristan said
quietly. I stared at him, waiting for the humor to return. It
didn't.
"He's right," Mom confirmed with a nod.
"
What?
" I shrieked. "How do
you
know?"
"Alexis, relax." Mom squeezed into the tiny
bathroom, sat on the tub's edge behind me and smoothed my hair.
"There's a lot to explain, but right now, I just need you to trust
us."
"
Trust
you?"
How could I trust
anything right now?
"You trust me, right?" Mom asked.
"Yes," I said automatically. "But…"
Does she really expect me to believe all
this? Does
she
really believe it?
"Alexis, does your leg still hurt?" Tristan
asked.
I narrowed my eyes at him. I didn't
want
to tell him the truth. I was too stunned…and mad at
him. I could feel something in my heart starting to crack,
realizing he really was too good to be true. I'd known all along
there had to be something wrong with him, for him to like
(
love
) me. I'd just never imagined this. He turned my
fascination with vampires against me in a bizarre, sick way to try
to get into my pants after all. Either that or…his secrets really
were worse than I ever thought.
What have I gotten myself
into?
But I couldn't deny that the pain in my leg
was gone. It wasn't that my leg was just numb, either.
"No," I admitted quietly. "Actually, it feels
good."
Mom leaned over and looked at the injury. "It
looks like it's trying to heal."
Tristan examined it, too, holding my leg
gently but firmly when I tried to pull away from him. "It looks a
lot better already. It finally stopped bleeding."
Mom scooted down between my back and the
bathtub. "Finish, Tristan."
"
What?
" I tried to get up and away
from them both.
Is she
crazy
?
But Mom wrapped her
arms around me and held me tightly. She nodded at Tristan but he
didn't move, except to shake his head.
"No. Not if she doesn't want me to."
"You are
not
doing that again!" I
squirmed in Mom's arms. My thigh hit against her leg and the wound
seared with pain again. "
Ouch!
"
"If you don't be still, it'll start bleeding
again," Mom whispered calmly in my ear. "If there's no blood, he
doesn't have to suck it out. He can just heal it. Or, you can sit
here in pain for a few hours and hope it heals itself. If it
doesn't, I'll have to sew it and you can be in pain for a few days.
So…you can be miserable or you can trust us. The choice is
yours."
Tears welled in my eyes again as the
throbbing returned. I stared at Tristan through the tears and his
face looked just as pained as I felt. His eyes were dark, the gold
dim.
"Lexi, I can make it go away," he said
quietly. "But only if you want me to."
I knew then he was honestly doing it for me.
To help me, not to take advantage of me. I leaned back against Mom,
squeezed my eyes shut against the tears and nodded. As soon as his
mouth was against my thigh, the pain disappeared, replaced by the
exciting tingles. My eyes still shut tightly, I tried hard not to
envision what he did. I didn't feel any sucking. It just felt like
warm, wet kisses. It wasn't nearly as sensual as the first time,
though. Perhaps because Mom was there.
Or because now I realize
how freakin'
weird
it is!
The kissing sensations stopped and all I
could feel were the lingering tingles and the familiar sensation of
my body healing. I slowly opened my eyes.
"Much better," Tristan said, studying the
injury.
Mom leaned over me to check it out. "Yes.
Much."
I couldn't look at Tristan, not sure exactly
how I felt at the moment. Disgust, guilt, fear… Curiosity won and I
eventually gave in and looked at the wound.
"Whoa," I breathed. I watched with
fascination as the deep fibers knitted themselves back together,
the wound closing from the inside outward. I could only watch for
so long, though—it was pretty gross and nauseating.
After a few minutes, Tristan ran his hand up
and down my leg, sending currents under my skin. "See. Your leg is
nearly as sexy as it was this morning."
I looked again and, sure enough, the gash had
completely disappeared. A long, dark bruise marked its
place—bruises took longer to heal than cuts, something having to do
with blood vessels in the deeper tissue. It'd be gone by
Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow.
"Is
that
your medical training?" I
demanded.
He laughed. "No. That comes naturally."
I narrowed my eyes and jabbed my finger at
him. "
You
have a lot of explaining to do."
He grabbed my finger and kissed the tip of it
before I yanked it away. He sighed and his eyes dimmed. "Yes, I do.
Sophia?"
I dropped my head with defeat, knowing her
answer.
"Yes, we both do."
My head twisted around as far as my neck
allowed to see her face. "
Really?
"
She closed her eyes and exhaled sharply, as
if she didn't like the idea. "Yes, really."
"You're really going to tell me all about
me…us?"
She shook her head and opened her eyes. "No,
not everything. I can't provide a lot of details. My soul's
existence relies on keeping our secrets until you are
able
to understand. You'll just have to wait for most of it, but I will
tell you what you need to know to understand what Tristan has to
say."
Her soul's existence?
She'd never put
it like that before.
"First, though, we have some things to deal
with at the store," she continued, squirming to stand up without
success.
Crammed into the tiny bathroom, we had to
stand one at a time, Tristan first. He held his hands out to help
me up. I ignored him and stood on my own, gingerly putting weight
on my right leg. It felt fine. Mom squeezed past me, already
heading for the front door.
"I need to get back there. I told the police
I was just going in the back room to make some phone calls and
right now Owen is handling everything."
"Oh! How's the driver?" I asked. "Is he
okay?"
She frowned, shook her head and whispered,
"No, I'm afraid he's…dead."
"
What?!
How?"
"I don't know yet. Just wait about fifteen
minutes after I leave, then come to the store, as if I'd called
you. We can talk about everything while we clean up."
I couldn't believe all the bombshells dropped
in the last ten minutes and now I had to wait…again.
"
Mom
…?"
"I guess that one's out, huh?" She turned to
look at me and Tristan, her hand on the doorknob. "Finally. It's
about time we stopped the charade. Alexis…I've known Tristan a long
time. Well, our family has. He's familiar with who I am and what
that means for you."
"Our
families
know each other?" I
didn't even know our family.
"I don't have any family," Tristan muttered
bitterly from behind me.
"Actually, my relatives—
our
relatives—have known Tristan for a long time. I'll explain later.
For now, well…you can trust Tristan. I wasn't sure at first, but I
know now."
Before I could ask anything else, she was
gone, the door shutting behind her. I stared at it for a long
moment.
"I need to go home," Tristan said quietly
from right behind me.
I spun around and glared at him. "Oh, no,
you're not! You're staying here and explaining yourself, just as
you said. You're not running away from me now, Tristan! You
will–"
His glorious smile stopped me.
"What?" I asked with bewilderment.
What is
he smiling about now?
As far as I was concerned, there was
absolutely no reason for it.
"You really don't want me to leave?" he
asked.
"Of course not!" I blurted.
He placed a hand against the door on each
side of me, leaning close. My back pressed against the door as his
eyes penetrated into mine. "Why? Because you want to hear what a
freak
I
am? Or because you really want me to stay?"
I hated how he looked at me so intensely. It
disarmed me. I forgot to be mad. "Um…both?"
He sighed. "I really need to go."
"Please don't," I said quietly, "don't leave
me."
"Why?" he demanded again, his eyes searching
deeply into mine.
I swallowed hard.
"Because…because I'm afraid you won't come
back," I finally whispered, dropping my head so he couldn't see my
eyes. "Just like the others…."
"Alexis," he murmured, lifting my chin with
his thumb to look me in the eye. "Lexi…I'm not like the others, but
I
do
have to go now."
The corners of his mouth twitched, like he
wanted to smile, but his eyes were dark, serious. And when I felt
that crack in my heart again, I knew it didn't hurt because I was
scared of who he was. It hurt because I was afraid to lose him. I
jerked my face away from his hand and ducked under his arm. I
didn't want him to see the betrayal and sadness quickly rising to
the surface.
"Fine, if that's what you want," I muttered,
my back to him.
"Yes, it's what I want," he said and the
crack grew larger, making my breath catch. "Because if we're going
to the store, I think I should have a shirt on. I promise I'll be
right back."
And, just like Mom, he was out the door,
shutting it behind him before I could respond.
I spun around and slammed my fists against
the door.
How does he
do
that to me?
I could imagine
the huge, smug grin on his face.
"Who
are
you, Tristan Knight?" I asked
the empty house as I slumped against the door.
Chapter 10
After a minute or so, I finally straightened
up and locked the door.
If he comes back, he'll have to
beg
me to come inside!
Then I stomped to my bedroom to change
out of my own blood-stained clothes. I never heard the motorcycle
come or go, but Tristan was back by the time I'd washed the dried,
matted blood out of my hair and dressed. He sat at the kitchen
table, waiting for me, when I skidded to a stop in the doorway.
"How did you…?" I asked with wonder, looking
at the front door I knew I'd just locked and back at him.
"You should really lock the doors when you're
home alone," he said.
"I did!"
He nodded at the back door, off the kitchen.
"Are you sure?"
I groaned. "Don't do that to me! For a second
there, I thought you could just magically appear out of nowhere,
too!"
He chuckled. "Are you ready?"
"Absolutely. I need some explanations before
I go insane."
The phone rang just as we reached the front
door. I considered ignoring it, but thought it could be Mom,
needing us to bring something. Tristan followed me back to the
kitchen.
"Alexis, honey, you can't come here," Mom
said when I picked up. "You and Tristan both need to stay
away."
"Why?"
"The media is here," she said, as if that
were enough explanation.
"And…so?" Since we supposedly hadn't been
there, they wouldn't have anything to ask us.
"Honey, you both just need to stay out of it.
Owen and I will finish up and I'll be home as soon as I can." Her
voice was firm and I knew there was something more she couldn't
tell me. "We'll talk about everything when I get home, okay?"
"Promise?"
"I promise, honey. You deserve to know. Can
you please start a pot of coffee? We'll need it."
"Yeah, sure." I hung up and headed for the
coffee pot, telling Tristan about the media.
"Hmm…yeah, wouldn't be a good idea," he said,
leaning against the counter. "We need to stay under the radar."
"Why?"
"You and I, well, we don't need to be
broadcasting we're together. Certain…
people
…don't need to
know," he said cryptically. I stared at him, waiting for an
explanation. "You'll find out soon. Tonight. Just wait for
Sophia."
I groaned with frustration and impatience.
Coffee grounds spilled everywhere as I sloppily scooped them out of
the can and practically threw them into the filter basket. I took a
deep breath to calm myself and thought of a question I could ask
and not have to wait for the answer.
"So, what kind of medical training do you
have, anyway?"
"Well, um, to be completely honest…pre-med
and some med school."
I looked at him, confused. "How did you do
all that already? You're only twenty, right?"
He grimaced. "Um, yeah, about that…"
"What?" I asked with trepidation, quickly
realizing this wasn't such a safe topic after all.
"Well, uh…you know how Sophia doesn't
age?"
"Yeah." I waited for him to finish, but he
just looked at me with his eyebrows raised. "You…?
No
way!
"
He smiled weakly and shrugged.
"
Really?
So how old
are
you?"
"Well, um…" I'd never heard so many "well,
um's" come from Tristan, never seen him so uncomfortable. He really
didn't want to tell me. "…I was, uh, born in 1743, but I don't like
to think of it that way. I prefer to be somewhere between nineteen
and twenty-four…for a very long time."
My mouth dropped as I held the coffee pot in
mid-air.
What the…?
Then several things flew through my
mind… his quick reflexes and uncanny physical abilities on the
basketball court…his travels all over the world…he could heal…his
strength…how he appeared in my kitchen when there was no reason the
back door would be
un
locked…the fire in his eyes…Mom at the
store, stressing how much blood there was…. I inhaled sharply.
He sucked my blood!