Hidden Worlds

by Kristie Cook

  Rina then took each of our free hands and joined them together, then wrapped both of hers around ours. She bowed her head and we all followed.

  “Our Heavenly Father, God of the Universe, Creator of all things, we thank You for this union and the blessings You will provide as its result. We each lay down our lives for You in our continued servitude. Show us Your way and we shall follow. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”

  Rina smiled and gave us a slight nod. Tristan gently tilted my head up with his fingers under my chin, bent over and delivered the most amazing, most loving kiss he had ever given me.

  “I do not know what is above us, exactly, but it would be in our best interests to vacate immediately,” Stefan interrupted, eyeing the unusual storm cloud above us. It wasn’t low enough to threaten rain, but the lightning, thunder and wind continued, seeming to grow in anger.

  We received quick hugs of congratulations and Owen took a quick picture of Tristan and me with his new, high-tech cell phone, the only camera available. Then he, Rina and Stefan disappeared. Tristan scooped me up and ran to Mom’s car, Mom not far behind. He sat in the back seat with me as Mom chauffeured us to a small parking lot where Tristan’s Ferrari waited.

  “Tristan, you have her bag?” Mom asked.

  “In the car. Let’s go, ma lykita.” He opened the door and helped me out.

  The air here was perfectly calm. Still, as Mom drove off, I had an eerie feeling about the next time I’d see her. Just nerves. We’ll be okay now. Well, “we” as in all of us. Now, me, for tonight anyway . . . I wasn’t so sure.

  Chapter 24

  “Where are we going?” I asked Tristan as he held the car door for me. “I thought we couldn’t have a honeymoon yet.”

  “Do you really think I’d let tonight be like any other night?” He kissed me before shutting the door.

  Like that could happen. We could have gone home and watched movies, but in the end it would definitely not be like any other night. Not in my life anyway.

  “So, where are we going?” I asked again when he was in the car.

  “Somewhere special for my special wife on this very special night.” He kissed my hand and winked. “Topless?”

  I stared at him blankly. I wondered if he’d still have that same effect on me in eighty years. Or a hundred-and-eighty years. I hoped so.

  “Guess not,” he muttered.

  “Oh, yes, definitely,” I finally answered. He pushed a button and the car’s roof began to lower.

  We drove south and stopped at an upscale restaurant in Naples, overlooking the water. It wasn’t crowded, but the people there gawked unabashedly at us. I thought it was the car at first, but their stares, from both men and women, continued as we followed the maître D’ to our table by the windows. The table could seat four, so Tristan sat to my right, rather than across from me.

  “Are you okay?” he asked when we were alone.

  “I really didn’t want to be seen in this by other people,” I whispered, tugging at the top of the bodice. He took my hand to stop me.

  “Don’t let their admiration bother you. I’m quite enjoying it.” He kissed my fingers. “I couldn’t wait for people to see you in that dress. Because you are with me. Forever.” He leaned closer, his lips tickling my ear. “At least let me enjoy it now, because I will have you out of that dress soon enough.”

  The butterflies awoke in my stomach. They fluttered throughout dinner and I could hardly eat. They grew and multiplied again in the bathroom when I overheard a couple of young women while I was still in the stall.

  “He’s absolutely gorgeous. And did you see the car they got out of? I think he’s the singer in that one band,” one said.

  “I thought he was that actor . . . the one in that new spy movie, I can’t think of his name,” said the other. I knew whom she talked about. There was a slight resemblance, but Tristan was much more attractive.

  “Oh, maybe you’re right. I don’t know who that girl is. She’s pretty, but, man, he could have anyone. I don’t get it. But love that dress!”

  I blushed, though no one even knew I was in there.

  “Lucky girl, huh? Did you see how his muscles rippled under his shirt?” She sighed.

  Ha! If she only knew the real power . . . .

  “I think I’d come at first touch.”

  They giggled like school girls. I opened the stall door then and strode out to the sinks, where they both stood, staring at me with their mouths hanging open and their faces beet red.

  “Only a certain kind of woman can handle a man like that,” I said with full confidence.

  No, that didn’t really happen. But I imagined it and wished I’d had the chutzpah to actually do it. Instead, the butterflies transformed into fish flopping sickeningly in my stomach. I stood in the stall until they left, taking deep, calming breaths, grateful that freesia-infused freshener permeated the air.

  The door opened again and I felt the extreme goodness flow into the bathroom.

  “Alexis?” an unfamiliar female voice asked. An Amadis protector, sounding alarmed.

  “I’m fine,” I said from the stall. The door hissed closed.

  I washed my hands while giving my reflection a silent pep-talk. It didn’t work.

  “You’ve been awfully quiet and you hardly ate a thing,” Tristan said once we were in the car and headed for the highway.

  “I know. I’m sorry. I ruined your special surprise.”

  He laughed. “That was not my surprise. I thought maybe we should eat while we had the chance. We have a long drive ahead of us.”

  “Where are we going?” I asked once again.

  “You’ll see.” He put his hand on my thigh where the skirt had ridden up and squeezed gently. I fought back a shudder. He let his hand rest there, absent-mindedly rubbing his fingers back and forth as he drove. The electric currents shot through me like his touch was new again. The shudder won. He looked at me with concern. “You’re not okay.”

  I thought about what he would want to hear, what I should say to him as his new wife. So I gave him the partial truth. “Every time you touch me, it’s like it’s the first time.”

  He grinned my favorite, most stunning smile. That was a good one. He moved his hand to caress the inside of my wrist and forearm. “You mean like this?”

  Goosebumps rose. He moved his hand to my neck and stroked around my jaw line, down my neck and along my collar bone. I shuddered again. He grinned again.

  “You’re making me crazy,” I said giddily.

  “Good. You’ve been driving me insane all evening.” His foot pressed harder on the gas pedal. I didn’t even want to know how fast we were going. “I’ll get us there as fast as I can.”

  We drove in silence for a while, the road fairly dark and empty across Alligator Alley, the stretch of highway connecting southern Florida’s east and west coasts. I wondered if we were going to Miami. It wasn’t long—less than half the time it should have been—before we approached the lights of the city. He drove a little slower with the added traffic, until we hit US-1 and headed south. I realized we were going to the Keys.

  “It’s an awfully long drive for just one night,” I said. I’d checked into going to Key West for after our fake wedding and knew it was nearly a six-hour drive. Of course, Miami was over two hours and it took him less than one.

  “Not when I’m driving.” He grinned in the lights of the dash. “And we can stay as long as we want. We did it, my love. And with no problems. The sooner they know that, the better. It may prevent them from attacking unnecessarily.”

  “That wasn’t the plan.”

  “It’s the best solution I see now. As long as they don’t know, we’re essentially sending an invitation.” A moment passed and he changed his tone. “Listen, this isn’t what I want to discuss on our wedding night. This is a happy time for us. Let’s see how we feel, check in with the others and we’ll play it by ear, okay? You’re done with summer classes and the semester doesn’t start for a few weeks.�
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  “I’m pretty sure I’m not packed for more than a night or two.”

  “No, but that’s okay. I really don’t plan on you wearing many clothes anyway.” He grinned again. And the butterflies, which had been subdued for a while, flew around excitedly.

  We rode in silence again. I couldn’t pull my mind away from the night ahead and almost regretted saving my first time for my wedding night. I felt too nervous to enjoy what should have been the best night of my life.

  “Your silence concerns me,” Tristan finally said.

  “I’m sorry. I’m just . . .” I couldn’t say it. “. . . ready to be wherever we’re going.”

  He glanced at me. “Too much hesitation. That’s not what you’re really thinking.”

  I debated whether to just come out with it or push through it. I’d told him I trusted him. In fact, I’d just vowed tonight to trust him. I thought in silence for a while. What I ended up blurting out was not exactly what I’d been thinking.

  “Tristan, when was the last time you were with a woman?”

  He looked at me in shock and let off the gas. I thought at first he’d slowed down out of surprise, but then he made a turn off the highway. And he still hadn’t answered me.

  “You’re not going to tell me,” I muttered. “It’s not like I ever thought I was the first. You’ve been around for . . . a long time.”

  “This is another subject we shouldn’t be discussing tonight.”

  “I’m just curious.”

  “Why are you suddenly curious on our wedding night?” He sounded angry and his jaw muscle twitched.

  He turned the car into a private driveway ending at a large house. The moon reflected on the water behind it and bounced off the house’s metal roof. He parked. I didn’t move. All I could see in the darkness was a two-story house with the front door on the second level and stairs and a deck in front of it. I stared out the window at the lattice that wrapped around the ground level.

  Tristan turned to glare at me and I finally looked at him.

  “I know you don’t like talking about your past and I’m sorry I made you angry. It’s just . . . I’m just . . . nervous,” I finally admitted.

  His face softened and he sighed heavily.

  “Not for over twenty-something years and only when it was necessary. That was my old life, before . . . I hate that’s how it is for us, but it is.” He watched me for a reaction and I gave it.

  “So, at least it’s not the blind leading the blind,” I blurted.

  He laughed, apparently caught off guard. “You are so . . . different.”

  “That’s what I’ve been told.” I scowled.

  He leaned over and kissed me, then murmured, “I have never made love.”

  “It makes me happy to know I’m your first in that way.” The butterflies only strengthened, though, and I sighed. “But it’s not helping with the nerves. I seriously don’t know what to do.”

  He gave me a strange look. “Who are you and what have you done with my Lexi?”

  “Huh?”

  “How many times have you started something with me and wanted to finish it?” His eyes danced playfully as his hand caressed my face and neck.

  I smiled sheepishly. “A lot.”

  “So why the nerves now?”

  “Because I know it’s actually going to happen and I’ve had way too much time to think about it.”

  “Ah. Maybe you need to stop thinking then.” He leaned over and kissed me again. “You know more than you think you do. You certainly know how to turn me on.”

  He brushed his lips against my neck and up to my ear. I shivered.

  “That’s you turning me on,” I breathed.

  “Good. That’s how it starts, by the way.” He kissed my lips before I could retort. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

  He jumped out of the car and was up the stairs and at the front door so quickly, I was sure he flashed. He opened the door, pressed a code into the alarm system just inside, and flipped on a couple lights. I knew he flashed back down to me because he stood inside the doorway and then instantly he stood right next to me. I laughed as he bent over the car door and scooped me out, carrying me up the stairs and inside.

  “The tradition is you carry me over our own threshold,” I said as he set me on my feet in the small foyer. The smell of fresh paint and lumber told me the house was either new or recently remodeled.

  “This is. Well, yours anyway.” He took my hand and pulled me through a doorway into a fabulous kitchen open to a dining area and family room. He put his arms around me from behind and nuzzled his face against my ear. “My wedding gift to you.”

  He nodded at a small pile of papers on the counter with keys on top.

  “What?” Then I came back to reality. “You mean while we’re here. This little trip, right?”

  “Well, that, too. But I mean the house. It’s yours.”

  “Tristan,” I gasped. “A house? Are you crazy?”

  He grinned and kissed my temple. “Thank you for being my wife.”

  I shook my head. “This isn’t right. I didn’t even have time to get you anything yet and you got a house? You can’t give this to me.”

  “Will you please stop being difficult on this night of all nights? Just relax and enjoy it, okay?”

  I turned around and stared at him in disbelief. He cupped his hands around my face.

  “Think of it as an investment for our future. I just had to put it in your name for tax reasons . . . among others. Okay?”

  I relaxed and smiled, knowing this was his area of expertise.

  “Ours, then,” I said.

  “If you prefer . . .” He gave me a quick kiss. “Stay here while I get our bags and then I’ll show you my favorite room.”

  It took him longer than I expected. I walked around the island kitchen with its smooth granite countertops and into the family room, admiring the perfection throughout. Everything was exactly the way I’d design and decorate it myself, if I had any talent at all. Sand-colored walls, sun-bleached wood floors and furniture, fabrics in cerulean blue, coral, aqua and shell-pink—the feeling of the beach brought indoors. A wall of sliding glass doors led out to a screened-in balcony. The darkness swallowed anything beyond except the water still reflecting the moon.

  “Sorry,” Tristan said, appearing in the kitchen. “I had to get an update.”

  I looked at him expectantly.

  “We’re fine. We can just enjoy ourselves. So, what do you think so far?”

  I walked over to him and stood on my toes to kiss him. “It’s perfect!”

  He let out a sigh of relief and smiled. “Good. Come on.”

  He took my hand and led me across the family room and through a door leading into a large bedroom suite. A big bed faced a small sitting area with a chaise lounge and more sliding glass doors. Everything was white except for splashes of jewel-tone colors, primarily amethyst, my favorite. It felt like a tropical island.

  “I call it the Caribbean room,” he said.

  “I love it!”

  “I hoped you would.” He beamed, reminding me of a little kid proudly showing off his artwork.

  “Oh! Tristan . . . did you design this house?”

  His grin widened.

  I stared at him in disbelief. “You’re amazing!”

  “You are amazing, ma lykita,” he said, taking me into his arms. “And for some reason I still don’t understand, you are mine.”

  I placed my hands on the sides of his face, tilting it down toward me, and gazed into his sparkling eyes. “You don’t need to understand. Just know.”

  I pulled his face down to me and pressed my lips to his. The passion, pent up for the last several weeks, rose quickly in both of us. Our lips moved together longingly, kissing and tugging. Our hands caressed each other’s faces and necks. I pushed my fingers through his hair and pulled him closer, separating my lips and welcoming his tangy-sweet taste on my tongue. I slid my hands down his strong neck, over his
broad shoulders and along his hard chest.

  As we kissed more fervently, his hand moved down my back, sliding between the bodice and the skirt and resting against the small of my back. His other hand caressed my neck and slid down slowly along the plane of my chest and back up. His mouth traveled over my chin and down my throat. I arched my back, lifting my chest against his lips. His mouth was warm and wet on my skin. His hand felt along the straps, up and around the collar.

  “How do I get this thing off you?” he murmured desperately.

  I smiled. “It’s complicated.”

  I unhooked the choker and pulled my arms through the straps and then brought his hand to the hidden zipper in the back. The bodice fell to the floor. He cupped my breasts in his hands and my nipples hardened as he kissed and licked, electricity surging everywhere he touched me, rippling across my skin. He rolled one tip with his thumb, while taking the other into his mouth, suckling and pulling it into a hard nub. My lower body squeezed as if there were a direct line from my breasts to my groin.

  I frantically pulled his shirt off and my skirt fell next. He lifted me up and I pressed against him, running my lips and tongue along his smooth neck, tasting, kissing, sucking. He carried me over to the bed and gently lay me down.

  “You are dangerously beautiful,” he murmured, appraising me as he slid off his slacks.

  Keeping my eyes from wandering, I looked into his eyes and saw no fire—just beautiful emerald green and sparkly gold.

  “You’re . . . okay,” I said quietly.

  “I am truly Amadis now. The monster is buried deeply . . . maybe gone forever.” His smile faltered. “Of course, we do still need to be careful. You’re still so very fragile.”

  My heart raced as he climbed onto the bed and lay next to me. He placed his hand lightly around my neck and kissed my mouth with renewed fervor. His hand glided down, over and between my bare breasts, along my stomach, around the curve of my hip and along my thigh, leaving shocks of electricity along the path. His hand encircled my calf and he hitched my leg over his hip, then slid his hand up the back of my thigh. My body warmed and quivered with both yearning and fright.

  My hands ran along his bare chest for the first time in way too long, feeling its smooth planes and curves. They trembled as they moved lower, along his perfect lines, his muscles flexing under my touch. He hooked his thumb under the elastic of my panties and, with a slight jerk, tore them off.