Aequus

by Randi Cooley Wilson

  “As do I.” I remind him with a pointed look.

  He considers my words before nodding his agreement.

  “We’ll keep it to hand holding and cheek kisses.”

  “I’ll agree to that, but not in front of Tristan.”

  “If it can be avoided.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “Just so you know, as a creature who loves wine, women, and physical pleasure, I’ve never had to practice restraint,” he mumbles. “I’m warning you, I’m not sure how good I will be at it.”

  “Restraint builds character.”

  Zander presses his lips together and leaps off the couch, motioning for me to follow him toward the stairs. “We should get some rest, because tomorrow we seek answers.”

  We climb up the staircase, my heart jumping with each step closer to Tristan’s master suite. It’s silly, but I’m feeling weird and anxious to enter the room again. The last time I was here, it’s where we stayed—together.

  Once we reach the doors, I freeze, unsure if I want to enter. Seeing my hesitation, Zander reaches around me, twists the knobs and pushes them open.

  Silently, my eyes take in the expansive room, lined on one side with open french doors that lead out to the stone balcony, overlooking the realm’s large lake.

  I inhale as a memory—of Tristan and I standing on the terrace, in the rain, kissing—assaults me.

  Quietly, Zander slips away and I step into the room.

  Immediately, I’m hit with Tristan’s scent—citrus and spice. It’s calming. Safe. Frightening. Just like him.

  I walk farther into the room, toward the two chairs facing the lake, and my heart squeezes a little when I see that the blanket I love to curl up in is still in my preferred chair. I pick it up and inhale his smell, letting it wrap around me. It’s then I realize the gas fireplace is lit.

  My brows pinch in confusion, because I remember Tristan saying he never uses it. Placing the blanket back on the chair, I walk over to the switch on the wall to turn it off, but at the last minute, change my mind, deciding I like the warmth, and leave it on.

  Wanting to get comfortable, I turn toward the bed and see my bags placed by the closet. Rifling through them, I pull out what I need to get ready for sleep. When I stand to head toward the bathroom, I notice a T-shirt lying across Tristan’s comforter. Walking toward it, I stop in my tracks when I realize it’s the one I wore when I stayed here before.

  I look around the room and it dawns on me. Tristan’s scent is fresh, as if he were just here. Not dull and lingering.

  Tristan—he put the fire on, knowing I like it. He left the blanket and this T-shirt. I smile, knowing he did all this—for me. I walk toward the bed and run my hand over the soft cotton before picking it up and bringing it with me into the bathroom. Once I slip it on, I feel safe and happier than I have in months. Surrounded by him.

  Tired, I slip under the soft, warm blanket, settling deeper into the oversized chair. My gaze roams over the lake blanketed in darkness before I shut my eyes tight, desperately recalling memories of him.

  His touch. His taste. His sounds.

  The way he looks at me.

  Tristan cups my chin firmly between his fingers.

  “Look at me,” he demands, using an arrogant voice.

  My eyes blaze with fury at his tone. “I am.”

  He smiles. “There you are. There’s the spark of life.”

  His fingers on my face relax my core, bringing me back to myself. I try to pull away, but he wraps his free arm around my waist and wrenches my body against his, locking me to him.

  Tristan’s lips graze my ear as he speaks through the thunder.

  “Trust me. To protect you. To protect us.”

  I stiffen and try to push away, but he holds me tighter.

  His lips brush across my neck in the barest of touches before he pulls back and cups my face with shaky hands.

  Only a sliver of air exists between our lips as his hooded gaze meets mine. He brushes a thumb over the pulse at the base of my neck, as if he’s trying to push life into it to keep my heart beating.

  I tremble beneath his touch.

  “I’ve got you. You. Are. Safe.” He doesn’t release me. He simply waits until I get myself under control and give in.

  “I believe you,” I concede breathlessly.

  My lids flutter open reluctantly, not wanting to let go of the vision. Movement outside has my focus shifting, and that’s when I see him. Like a dark angel covered in shadows and bathed in moonlight, Tristan is standing near the lake’s edge, staring up at me through the open doors.

  Holding his stare, I stand and walk out onto the patio, adjusting the blanket around my shoulders as the cool air caresses my bare legs.

  When he sees me, his expression turns wounded at the same time his eyes slide down my body. Over his shirt, slipping down, taking in my bare legs before gliding back up and landing back on my unwavering stare.

  Then he’s gone.

  Just when I’m ready to turn and head to bed, he reappears on the balcony in front of me, breathing hard, as if he sprinted up here instead of teleporting.

  Within seconds, his large, warm hand is at the base of my throat and he walks me backwards until my back hits the side of the house. I still, understanding what he’s doing.

  As an empath, he’s reading my feelings. His hand slides up even farther, until his fingers and palm are flush against my neck. His eyes close as he scans my emotions.

  I let him, unmoving, because the feel of his skin against mine is an overwhelmingly welcome sensation. I shiver.

  “Are you cold?” he whispers, his breath fanning my lips.

  “No,” I breathe.

  “You’re shivering,” he observes.

  “It’s not because of the chill in the air,” I barely manage.

  He steps closer, and when his chest meets mine, our gazes lock. Tristan runs his fingers over my jaw, slipping his hands behind my neck. His palms conform perfectly to me as he drops his forehead gently to mine.

  “You’re wearing my shirt,” he speaks hoarsely.

  My hands white-knuckle the blanket and my lips part slightly when his breath falls in waves across my mouth.

  I’m afraid to move.

  Afraid if I do, he’ll scare and run away.

  “What if I said I just want you? What if I just want that one thing?” He croaks as if in pain. “What would happen?”

  “You have me. I’m yours. But you have to fight for us.”

  I tremble as the coolness from his rings soothes my neck. Stepping closer, I wrap my hands around his wrists and cling to the leather of his protector bands, searching his eyes. “I’m yours,” I whisper again, firmly this time.

  Tristan

  ONE HUNDRED SEVENTY-THREE DAYS. THAT’S HOW fucking long it’s been since my last cigarette. I swallow the last sip of my fifth cup of coffee, wishing it were laced with nicotine to soothe the edgy twitching that’s overtaken me.

  I shouldn’t have gone back to the cabin last night. But I had to be sure that Serena slept in my room and Zander in his. The moment I saw her, wearing the shirt I’d laid out for her, my shirt, I lost it. All self-control—gone. Right out the fucking window, which is why I banished her in the first place. I can’t focus on anything else when she’s around.

  Then I left.

  She declared herself mine and my response was to run.

  I literally disappeared from her arms without so much as an explanation or warning. Just like Gage does.

  “Goddamnit!” I growl aloud.

  A silvery hand slides over mine. “Are you all right?”

  Blinking several times, I come back to reality and see several faces watching me with concern, including Freya’s.

  “Sorry. I just wanted pancakes and I don’t see any,” I lie.

  The nymph’s eyes dart around wildly, as if on a mission, and after a moment, she places her napkin politely on the table and pushes herself into a standing position, squeezing my h
and. “It’s nothing to fret over, I’ll fetch you some.”

  I clench my jaw, feeling like a jerk. “You don’t have to.”

  “Nonsense. You’re to be my husband and the king someday. If it is pancakes that you desire, then you shall have them.” She flutters away as Zander enters with Serena.

  My gaze narrows at their intertwined hands. Zander leans toward her ear and murmurs something that causes her to laugh. My blood boils. I can handle a lot of things, but my brother whispering sweet nothings in her ear? No.

  I play with my brow piercing as I watch them, trying to shake the feeling that this is my fault in the first place.

  I knew better. If I had just stayed away from her in the first place, we wouldn’t be here right now. Instead, the pull she had on me was so magnetic, I found myself falling for her. Hard. And now, here I sit, watching her grace my brother’s arm, contemplating throwing it all away and starting an all-out war just so that I can have her.

  Am I really that selfish? To put love in front of duty?

  Zander runs a hand through his dark hair and I can’t help but wonder. I know why Serena agreed to Zander’s courtship, for no other reason than entrance into the realm. Because after last night, one thing is for damn sure: regardless of what’s happening outwardly, she’s still mine.

  The real question is why my brother agreed. Last I knew, he had strong feelings for Serena’s best friend Magali.

  Something about this feels off. What are they up to?

  I observe as he makes her a plate of breakfast items. A smile crosses my lips because he adds pineapple, which she loathes, passionately. That alone confirms this is a hoax.

  He hands it to her with a small kiss on the cheek, and I curb my desire to teleport over there and break off his face.

  Like a stalker, I stare as they take seats next to Rionach and my mother, smiling and engaging in polite conversation.

  Serena pushes the pineapple with her fork to the side of the plate while fixing it with a dirty look, and I laugh.

  My moment of triumph vanishes when Zander notices her distaste for the fruit. He picks it up off her plate and tosses it with great dramatics over his shoulder into the woods. Serena tilts her head and smiles at him like he’s her fucking hero. I try not to appear as irritated as I feel.

  I’m two seconds away from losing my shit.

  Her auburn locks fall over her slender shoulder and my chest tightens. I can’t decide if it’s from her sheer beauty or the fact that Zander gets to be her knight in shining armor.

  Hell, maybe I did this. Maybe I pushed her into someone else’s arms, knowing mine are the worst ones for her to be in. I’m not the good guy. Zander is. He’s everything good and safe. He’s someone she deserves.

  I, on the other hand, can barely look at myself in the mirror anymore. With the way that I’ve treated both Freya and Serena over the past few months, fucked up doesn’t even begin to describe my situation.

  A steaming plate of pancakes is waved under my nose.

  “Pancakes.” Freya chirps and places the plate down in front of me. “I apologize for the delay. The chef had to make them special. For some reason our mothers did not want them present or offered during brunch,” she explains.

  I force myself to look at Freya and fake a smile.

  She frowns at the gesture and looks at Zander and Serena before returning her uneasy attention back to me.

  “Thank you.” I try to appear nonchalant as she retakes her seat. “I appreciate you doing that on my behalf.”

  “No thanks are necessary,” her voice is small.

  “Still, I appreciate the effort,” I add sincerely.

  “We’re to be married. Pleasing and taking care of you are part of my duties. Your happiness brings me great joy.”

  “Frey—”

  Her eyes glide back to Zander. “Does it bother you?”

  “What?”

  “That your brother is romancing the gargoyle princess?” she asks. “I mean, if they marry, she will be around all the time, here at court. As your brother’s wife.”

  I flinch. “I’m sure their courtship will end as fast as it began. Zander prefers—variety over commitment.”

  “A cruel trait that appears to run in your family. No?”

  “It’s not something to agonize about. We don’t know what the future holds. Worrying helps no one,” I state.

  Her expression becomes crestfallen. “Do you not worry how it will affect me, having her here, all the time?”

  I place my fork down and lower my tone, trying not to take this out on her. “Our engagement is strictly business.”

  Freya fidgets with her napkin. “Do you have any idea how it feels to watch him parade your lover around court?”

  I grunt in frustration and stand, trying to escape.

  Freya grabs my hand. “Where are you going?”

  “Somewhere other than here.” I answer in a calm tone, removing my hand, because gods help us all if I truly lose my shit in front of everyone at our engagement brunch.

  “You are not the only one with a realm to consider. I’m sure my father will disapprove of Serena’s continued presence here at court and within the realm,” she threatens.

  In the blink of an eye, I grab her elbow and use my protector gifts of speed and teleportation. We disappear so fast that no one has time to see us even leave. Seconds later, I reappear on the top of the castle, overlooking the ocean.

  I release her with enough force that she stumbles to catch her footing. “If you are ever going to become queen someday, you should understand something. Kings don’t tolerate threats made by their wives. Especially me.”

  Angrily, the nymph stomps closer to the castle’s wall. She falls silent, her eyes fixating on the castle grounds, her hands resting on the stone railing.

  I release a long exhale, calming myself. I need to stop taking my anger out on her. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  Silence.

  “There were other ways of handling it,” I continue in a gentle manner, “than how I did. I’m sorry, for my temper.”

  “Handling me, you mean?” she replies, with an edge in her voice, and faces me. “It’s what you truly meant, is it not?”

  When I don’t respond, the Nordic beauty presses her lips, displeased with my silence. “You do realize we’re to be married. It is not a maybe, or perhaps, but it is indeed fact.”

  My eyes roam across her face, admiring the white branches that frame her slender appearance. She’s stunning, smart, and kindhearted. Freya is everything any king could want or be lucky enough to have in a queen and partner.

  Except she’s nothing I want.

  She isn’t my heart’s choice.

  She peers at me angrily from under her overly long, thick lashes. “I’m to be your wife. Your realm’s queen.”

  “Believe me, I’m aware.” My tone is bored.

  Her silver eyes narrow. “We’ve been engaged since childhood. Do you not think we owe it to ourselves, our families, and our realms to give us a fighting chance?”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  She rears back. “What is not simple about this, Tristan? It’s already all arranged. All you have to do is accept it and open your heart to me. Learn to love me, as I do you.”

  “STOP!” I roar. “My realm comes first. Nothing else matters beyond that. Right now, a war with your father could destroy not only the supernatural dimensions, but every realm that relies on the woodland and water lands to maintain their survival. This marriage is nothing more than a business agreement. Please, accept that. My heart has never been, is not now, nor will it ever be open to your love.”

  Freya regards me, considering my words before lifting her chin in defiance and speaking again. “Well, it’s not your decision. It’s Queen Ophelia’s, and her decree has been made. You and I will be wed. We will exchange vows that will not, and cannot ever be broken. You will be mine and I yours. You will learn to love me, as I do you. And nothing will stop that
,” she bites out, attempting to sound unkind, but in truth, she simply sounds frightened, fragile, and weak.

  I cock my head to the side and offer her a cruel smile.

  “You don’t see my mother rushing us to the altar anytime soon. As a matter of fact, I’m beginning to think these extensive celebrations and closed-door meetings are her way of stalling. Your father, however, certainly is in a hurry, which can only mean the water realm isn’t as strong as you think. I’d be careful if I were you, nymph. You want to threaten me? Declare war on me? Go ahead. I’m waiting.”

  Silence falls over us before her gentle voice cuts through it, “I have loved you since I was a small child. Even then, your interests lay elsewhere. I knew this when I agreed to my father’s terms.” She takes a small step toward me and interlaces her fingers with mine. “In time, if you allow it to be, our marriage could be more than just an alliance. Our love could be great. It doesn’t have to be this way.”

  I study her face and recall the carefree girl who used to chase me through the woods for hours on end. “I know it’s not what you want to hear, Freya, but our marriage is meant to hold an alliance. That is all it will ever be to me.”

  Her expression becomes crestfallen as I pull myself free of her tight grip. “It’s because you love her, isn’t it?”

  I look her straight in the eyes so there is no misunderstanding. “With every breath that I take.”

  “It matters not,” she whispers. “You’ve made it clear that love is irrelevant here,” she motions between us. “All I am asking you to do is wait and see how things develop between us. To be sure. To keep the peace and prevent war.”

  “There is no us,” I state firmly. “There is only her.”

  Her shoulders sag and her expression turns defeated. “You’re a fool whose heart will get us all killed,” she argues.

  I stiffen. “Are we throwing insults now, nymph?”

  “Do you really think it’s love for her you feel? It is not. It is the bond only,” she claims, her voice void of emotion.

  I curl my hands into fists. “Our connection is severed.”

  Her gaze grows intense. “Not the protector bond.”

  “What?”

  “The emotional link is what tethers you.”