by Kristie Cook
“Not that you can heal,” I finally said. “But you didn’t tell me.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been holding back, too. We’ve both known that about each other.”
“I know,” I admitted. “It’s just, well, it seems you’ve known all my secrets. At least the two biggest ones. You’re not surprised at all by my ability to heal. And I know you know Sophia is really my mom.”
There. That’s out now. He narrowed his eyes for a second, then nodded. “You’re right. But a secret is a secret. A lie is a lie. You didn’t tell me either.”
I lay back on the floor with a groan and stared at the ceiling, tears stinging my eyes again. He’s right. Now what? His face came into my vision as he leaned over me again. He smiled and the gold sparkled in his eyes.
“I don’t care, though,” he whispered. “I’ve known Sophia for a long time and I know these things about you and I don’t care. Even the secrets and the lies. I know it comes with who we are.”
My brows knit together.
“I don’t even know who we are, though,” I admitted. “I don’t know who I am and I really don’t know who you are. I know I have these stupid, freaky things about me and I’m glad you don’t care. But you apparently have quirks, too. I love the person I’ve known for the last several months, but . . .” My voice trailed off.
“But you want to know the rest of me,” he finished.
“Yes. I want to stop the lies and the secrets. I want a real relationship with you, Tristan. But I need to know.”
His eyes darkened. “You’ll change your mind.”
I shook my head, rocking it on the tile floor. “I’m not changing my mind. I need to know. For us.”
“I meant about loving me,” he muttered, his eyes dropping so I couldn’t see them.
Is it really that bad? I couldn’t imagine it being too horrible—he was just too good. Good like Mom good. And I knew he wasn’t just good to me, but good for me. Whatever secrets he kept, I thought I could get over them. And regardless, our relationship just couldn’t go on any longer like it had been.
“Just tell me,” I whispered. “Tell me who you are. Tell me everything.”
He raised his eyes and held mine so I knew he was serious, then simply said, “Okay.”
“Okay? For real?”
“Yes. Okay. You deserve to know . . . and I’ll deal with whatever happens.” He smiled, but it was sad. “But . . .”
“Of course there’s a ‘but’,” I moaned.
“But,” he continued, “I can’t do it alone. You have to get Sophia to agree, too.”
“Why? What does she have to do with it?”
“Well . . . to understand me, you need to know more about yourself. And only she can tell you that.”
I groaned with frustration. Of course, it had to be the ultimatum I knew would not be met.
“Trust me, she’ll do it,” he said.
“I doubt it,” I muttered.
“She knows it’s time. She’ll do it.” He sounded more confident than he should. I wondered how he could know, but he distracted me with his intense gaze again. “Right now, though, I really need to know if you love me.”
As I looked into his eyes, I knew what I felt, at least for now. And I didn’t know if anything could change my mind.
“Yes, Tristan, I love you.”
He leaned down and kissed me. “Good. Because I’m going to make you better . . . but now things are going to get really weird.”
Tristan removed the towel from my thigh and I propped myself on my elbows to watch. He lowered his head and placed his mouth over the wound.
The pain immediately subsided, replaced by those strange but pleasurable jolts shooting up and down my leg. His hands gently held my upper thigh and calf, spreading electric tingles along my skin, as his mouth moved around the edges of the gash like passionate kisses. It was the most sensual thing we’d done so far—this was so unlike him. He looked up at me, sparks in his eyes.
“There’s so much blood,” he groaned quietly.
He lowered his mouth again and I felt a stimulating, tugging sensation as he sucked. A distant voice way back in a far corner of my mind tried to tell me something, but I ignored it. I wanted his mouth on me, doing whatever he was doing because it felt so good. Warmth spread through my lower body, his hands caressing my leg. I’d never had an orgasm before, so I didn’t know what it felt like. But I thought this might be close.
“Tristan!” Mom gasped, suddenly behind him in the hallway, yanking me out of the oblivion.
“Oh! What the hell are you doing?” I shrieked, lurching my whole body away from him.
I stared at him, my eyes bugged as I realized exactly what he’d been doing. My stomach tilted. He stared back at me, an unreadable expression on his face, the sparks in his eyes dimming to just gold flecks.
“Tristan, what were you doing?” Mom asked.
“He was sucking my blood like a freakin’ vampire!” I answered for him.
Tristan actually laughed. Laughed.
“I thought you like vampires,” he said.
“Not for real! Is that what you thought? That I’d like it?! You’re a bigger freak than I am!”
He shook his head as he rocked back on his heels at my feet, a smile still on his face.
“I didn’t purposely suck your blood. It was just . . . in the way.” The smile disappeared as he turned to look at Mom. “She’s not healing, Sophia. At least not fast enough. I was trying to help.”
“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?”
“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 me into the sack 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 peered 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 ca
n 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, but not nearly as sensual as the first time. 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 backroom 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. “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,” 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 11
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 in
sane.”
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. “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.
