The last thing I heard was a faint whisper in my mind:
Let it burn …
“Joey!” Tristan’s sharp voice called my attention as I was still dazed and breathless. But the hint of panic in his tone made me snap my eyes open and look at him with a start.
His eyes were wide and fixed on my hands, hands that were grabbing his arms tightly. They were burning with light-yellow flames. I gasped in surprise, but a memory instinctively came back to me. Vigil’s faint words in a distant dream. I knew what to do.
Make it stop.
And the flames extinguished immediately. I looked at Tristan, my eyes as wide as his; then I glanced at his arm, where my hands were still holding on to him.
“D-did I burn you?” I asked, a little shocked myself.
He shook his head. “No. It didn’t burn … It felt a little warmer than normal, but … It was a nice feeling. Kinda hot. But good. Is there something you forgot to mention to me?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Uh … well, apparently – and mind you, this is as new to me as it is to you – I have uncovered this other new treat after the ‘incident’,” I said, sounding baffled even to my own ears.
“New ‘treat’,” he repeated in awe.
“I-I shouldn’t have let it go this far. I could feel it taking over me but it felt so good and I was distracted by … you know …” I explained, giving him an embarrassed smile. “But don’t worry, I can control it. And apparently it doesn’t hurt you, so … I’m sorry I scared you.”
“Has this ever happened before?” he asked.
“I did something like it once, but that’s when I had Vigil’s powers. This is the first time since we switched back. I guess the fire isn’t as much about Vigil’s powers as it is about mine.” He didn’t move, still hovering half on top of me, hands planted either side of me, supporting his weight. He stared at me, a smug smile showing in the corner of his mouth.
“So, you’re saying it only happened because of me?” he asked with a smirk.
I rolled my eyes. Men. “Yeah, Tristan, you made me so hot I burst into flames,” I said, feeling a blush tinting my cheeks. Might as well say it. It was a sort of truth anyway.
“You know … I could feel it too. The heat, taking over, under my skin wherever you touched me. It was kind of an intense feeling. Remarkably good, though. Would you mind trying it again to see how it goes?” he asked, a mischievous smile playing seductively on his lips.
“You mean, have another go at it?” I asked.
“For purely experimental purposes, of course,” he added, still smirking.
“Well, we do need to learn more about it,” I agreed.
He leaned in closer, biting his lips in such a sexy way that I couldn’t help but stare. “It’s kinda dangerous, though. I could set the whole house on fire,” I whispered, my eyes still fixed on his swollen lips.
“We’re right beside the pool; it’s the perfect place to test it out,” he countered, closing in slowly and planting kisses all over my neck. “So … let’s see if I can give you enough pleasure to make you spontaneously combust again.” His hoarse voice vibrated against my neck. “I always knew we were amazing together, but this puts it into a whole new level of amazing.”
“God, you’ll be forever bragging about this, won’t you?” I whimpered, trying to suppress a moan as he skilfully nibbled.
“Oh, yeah,” he murmured, homing in for another hungry kiss.
I must proudly say that I managed to not burn down the house the second time around, but fire still sprouted from my hands at the end of round two. We discovered then that my flames couldn’t really hurt Tristan, which was a huge relief.
And he was quite ecstatic with this newly discovered ability of mine. He said the sensation was better than anything he had ever experienced before.
I had to admit I had never felt like this, either. It was quite a rush, letting the energy out like that. And I guess we were both really comfortable with the supernatural part of us being so present in our lives now; we had both learned to accept it instead of freaking out all the time.
Then Tristan carried me to my room to test it again. He was quite keen on experimenting with fire. And I wasn’t posing any objections, either. Eventually, when the night rolled in, we decided enough was enough and we took a break from experimenting for the night. I rested my head on his chest, listening to his strong heartbeat, our bodies wrapped in the white sheets. We weren’t talking, but lost in our own private thoughts as he grazed his fingers up and down my back in soft, gentle strokes.
A silver chain glinted around his neck, catching my eye.
“What’s this?” I asked curiously, touching the thin silver chain between my fingers. Tristan was never much a jewelry type of guy, unlike Harry, who was always jingling with, like, a thousand necklaces and wristbands. Tristan glanced down and when he realized what I was asking he blushed a little, clearly very embarrassed.
“Oh, hmm … it’s, uh, nothing. I forgot I had it on me. I’ve been wearing it for some time now and … you know, I was supposed to take it off before getting here, but it must have slipped my mind …” He trailed off.
I pulled at the chain and it tugged back. Something was weighing it down. A pendant of sorts. He leaned on his elbows, pushing me away from his chest and preventing me from investigating any further.
I sat on the bed, clutching the sheets close to my body, and gave him a baffled, hurt look. He sighed, giving up and reaching to unlock the chain. Then he pulled it from his neck to show two silver rings swinging gently. I raised a very curious and surprised eyebrow.
“I’m sorry. I know how you freak out about the wedding subject. I’d asked for these to be made after we had agreed to go public. They were finished a few weeks ago and I’ve been wearing them since then …” he said, sighing loudly and handing me the chain. “Please, don’t freak out.”
I slid one of the rings off the chain and examined it. It didn’t look like a traditional wedding ring. For starters, it was silver instead of gold, flat in shape instead of rounded, and had two engraved lines running parallel on its surface. It looked custom-made, very beautiful, clearly made by a talented craftsman.
“It’s beautiful,” I said honestly, and that encouraged him to keep going.
“I know you don’t like golden stuff, so I asked for it to be made in white gold instead. The two lines running alongside each other represent us, together on the same path. And I got it engraved. Look inside.”
I squinted, peering inside. It was kind of hard to read in the semi-darkness of the room, but I could still faintly discern the words engraved in beautiful cursive letters:
T. J. Until the End & From the Start.
The other ring was smaller and bore the same inscription inside, and at the end of the text there was a small diamond incrusted in the metal.
“There is a diamond in your ring. I put it inside because I know you don’t like wearing things that glint on the outside,” he said, chuckling a little, but then he switched quickly to an apologetic expression. “But you were not supposed to see them. I know how strongly you are against marriage.”
I handed him back the rings and chain. “I’m not against it, Tristan, it’s just … I think the whole concept is fake: the white dress, the church, the nonsense rituals. I don’t believe in anything a priest can say to me … It won’t mean anything, the whole thing is just too … pointless. I’m sorry.”
“You’re talking about the ceremony. Marriage has nothing to do with dresses or priests or traditions. Or even about what gods you believe in. It’s about believing in each other and committing. It’s about the vows we take, the promises we make. It’s about giving up my heart and being worthy enough to hold yours. About pledging to be together and always being true to our love, no matter what. The rest is just … for show. I don’t care about the show,” he said, closing his hand firmly around the two rings.
“So are you saying that all that matters is love and commitm
ent, and there’s no need for anything else? The ceremony doesn’t really matter?” I asked, uncertain.
“Yes. If the love is true, and we vow to it with all our hearts, then yes. That’s all it takes to be married. At least to me.”
“That sure makes sense. That kind of marriage I can understand.” I glanced down to where his hand clutched mine and then back to his face. “That I can do,” I said, smiling. “Ask me again.”
He blinked, suddenly awestruck. “W-what?”
“Ask me again,” I said, grinning.
He looked absolutely baffled, surely never expecting this sudden turn of events.
“Ask …? Y-you mean …? Really?” He bolted upright on the bed so frantically that the sheets fell to his waist.
“If you don’t, I will,” I warned him playfully.
He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, gray eyes glinting in surprise.
“Tristan, I would gladly ask, but I know you are sort of a traditional guy, and I know you’d be upset if I did it for you, so …”
He snapped out of his stupor and gulped a couple of times before looking down at the rings on his palm. “Right. Okay. No, I can do this.” Then he picked the smallest ring and held my hands in his, trembling a little. “Joe Gray … w-will you marry me?”
I smiled and squeezed his hand reassuringly. “Yes, I will. With all my heart.” He slid the ring onto my finger, still trembling with emotion. “I promise I will honor you and love you always,” I said, my eyes locked with his. “And now, my turn. Tristan Halloway, will you marry me?” I asked, and he smiled, elated.
“I will. With all my heart. Until the end and after,” he said, and I pushed the bigger ring onto his finger.
“This means we’re married now?” I asked, light-headed all of a sudden.
“I-I suppose we are,” he said, smiling like a fool in love.
“Huh,” I said, and extended my hand to appreciate my beautiful white gold ring. “I guess we’ll have to sign legal papers to make it official, of course, when we get back home. But we’re pretty much married, aren’t we?” I felt like giggling, but I stopped myself just in time. “No hospital will ever block you from seeing me ever again, sir. You’ll be my husband.”
The look on his face was indescribable. “Can I kiss my fiancée now? Even though you hate traditions, it is said to be customary.”
My heart fluttered and butterflies erupted in my stomach in anticipation. It felt like this would be the first time he’d kissed me in my whole life. I tried to steady myself and still my beating heart.
Why does this feel so much like a first kiss?
“Maybe it’s because it will be your first kiss as my future wife,” he answered, his grin wide, his eyes glistening with emotion.
“Oh, oops. Did I say that out loud?” I blushed, embarrassed. My heart was still pounding like crazy in my chest. What was going on with me?
You’re in love. You’ll be married to the man of your dreams, your one and only, the love of your life. Your soulmate. Your miracle ghost boy.
You’ll finally be his wife. You’ll be Mrs. Halloway. That’s what’s going on, a tiny voice in my head told me.
Oh. So that’s what’s happening.
I’m happy.
Undeniably, incredibly, breathtakingly happy.
My eyes met his, which shone with an unmeasurable happiness as well. And then he closed the remaining inches between us and gave his future wife her first kiss.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Honeymooning
I woke up early the next morning and stared at the white ceiling above me in blissful joy.
I had the oddest of illnesses. I had a permanent smile plastered on my face and it wouldn’t go away, no matter how hard I tried to make it. The cause: extreme happiness. It was a most vexing condition. A silly smile was stuck to my lips as if glued there. I must have looked like a loony. A very, very happy loony.
I yawned and stretched, looking at the breathtakingly gorgeous man sleeping peacefully by my side, belly down on the mattress, one arm sneaking under his pillow. A hint of a smile was creeping to the corners of his lips even though he was deep in sleep. His smooth back was laid bare for me to admire, the sheets only covering a small part of him. I would never get used to how beautiful this man was.
Not man, my husband. I have a husband now.
In the eyes of the world there were some papers still to be signed, but in our hearts we were already husband and wife. I extended my hand and surveyed my wedding ring in the light of the day. The white gold ring looked even more beautiful in daylight.
God, I was a wife now. The word made me feel strange inside, but so excited at the same time.
I shuffled slowly out of bed and went to stand by the window, surveying the view outside. Even though I had only slept for a few hours, I had woken up filled with energy. I grabbed a light-yellow summer dress that was tossed over one chair and pulled it on, deciding to go downstairs for an early breakfast. I could prepare a tray of food and bring Tristan his breakfast in bed.
I’ll bring breakfast in bed to my husband, I thought, smiling to myself.
I was gathering a breakfast tray when Harry and Robin bustled inside, all merry and chirpy, with identical goofy grins on their faces.
“Hey, guys! You are up pretty early,” I exclaimed, and noticed their hands clasped together as they headed for the table.
“Up? We’re just getting back from our date, dude!” Harry said, sitting on a stool at my side and taking a piece of toast from my tray.
“You’re still on your date?” I asked, surprised.
“She’s like that energized bunny rabbit advert,” Harry said, resting his head sleepily on the table. “You won’t believe half of the stuff we’ve done since we left yesterday … She never gets tired!” he whined, but there was a smile in his voice.
“I told you to drink that coffee in the middle of the night,” she jeered at him.
“I’m never making that mistake again. Next date I’ll gulp down as much coffee as I possibly can,” he promised, yawning, his blond hair falling over his face in disarray.
“Next date, huh?” I teased, wiggling my eyebrows suggestively at Robin, who giggled a little and nodded, smiling happily at the news.
“I might need some time to recover from this first date, though,” Harry mumbled, crossing his arms over the table and resting his head on them. He looked like he was ready to sleep right there and then. “Just wake me up in a couple of days and we can go on our second date,” he grumbled sleepily, and closed his eyes.
Robin chuckled and silently mouthed “best date of my life” to me. I beamed, happy for her. They deserved this awesome date. They deserved to be happy.
“Oh, hey, speaking of happy, Robin. I need to ask you this big favor,” I began. “I need you to let Harry stay at your house for a couple of days.”
“Sure, he can stay. There are a lot of empty guest rooms there,” Robin said, and looked quizzically at me, not understanding why I would toss Harry out in such an outrageous way.
“I want to have some privacy in the house with Tristan,” I explained.
Harry’s head snapped up and he stared at me with wide eyes. “Oh, right! Tristan. I forgot all about him. You and lover boy want the house all to themselves, you naughty thing you,” he sniggered teasingly. “I take it you two finally worked things out, then?”
“I guess you might say that,” I hinted mischeviously, twirling my wedding ring underneath the table. “But you have to ask him about it.” I didn’t want to drop the bomb yet; I was waiting for Tristan to wake up before breaking the news.
“Where is he?” Harry asked, bouncing on his seat, all sleepiness forgotten now.
“Sleeping upstairs.”
“I’ll wake him up; I need to hear this from him!” Harry exclaimed, already darting out of the kitchen and running upstairs, shouting as loud and obnoxiously as he possibly could. If I knew Harry’s tactics well – and I’m positively sure that
I did – he was probably going to bounce on the bed until Tristan gave in and woke up.
“Oh, so do I finally get to meet the famous and mysterious boyfriend after all?” Robin teased, wiggling her eyebrows at me.
“He’s not my boyfriend any more,” I mumbled, glancing down at my toast with my best poker face. She frowned, not understanding what was happening.
After a couple of minutes, during which Robin tried desperately to catch my eye so she could read what was going on, we heard Tristan’s and Harry’s voices coming from the living room, chatting happily about something. Then they wandered into the kitchen. Tristan was wearing sweatpants, but he was shirtless and barefoot. His hair was a bit of a mess, but not as much as usual as it was really short now.
“Oh, hey.” Tristan halted, a little surprised by Robin’s presence in the kitchen. “Sorry, Harry didn’t tell me we had company …” he apologized, passing a hand through his hair, embarrassed at his lack of clothing and general state of dishevelment.
“It’s … fine,” Robin squeaked, wriggling on her seat, her eyes bugging out of her sockets as she stared at Tristan’s bare chest. I couldn’t blame her for staring; a half-naked Tristan had that effect on most people.
I chuckled and turned to Tristan. His attention was fixed only on me as he leaned in to give me a light peck on the lips.
“Morning, sweetheart,” he murmured in a low, raspy morning voice. “Did you tell Harry?”
I shook my head, giggling. “I didn’t. I thought you’d want us to do it together.”
Harry was watching us with a curious frown, and was about to ask what that was all about, when I chipped in, grinning like a mad woman. “So, Tristan, this is Robin. She’s an old friend of Tiffany’s and we’ve been hanging out these past weeks. Robin, this is Tristan,” I introduced. “My fiancé.”
Both Harry’s and Robin’s eyebrows shot up.
The Lost Girl Page 31
