by Lizzy Ford
Isolde growled suddenly. She glanced at the dog.
“It’s okay, angel,” she purred with a pat.
The dog bared its teeth, clamped them around her forearm, and planted its huge paws on Emma’s body. Emma toppled over backwards into a muddy ditch with a cry of alarm. The dog landed half on top of her, and she started to shove it off when the wheels of a car dipped dangerously close into the ditch as it flew by.
Stunned, she struggled to catch her breath and turned wide eyes to the dog. Isolde righted herself with a few grunts and clambered out of the ditch and flung mud from one paw.
“Oh, Isolde,” Emma gasped. “Oh, you beautiful dog!”
She climbed out of the ditch and hugged the animal, kissing its ugly, large face. Isolde panted and licked her. Emma straightened, shaken, and slung mud free of her arms. She glanced around, afraid to be only halfway down the road. With a tug on Isolde, she raced the rest of the way down the road, pausing for breath when she passed through the gates of the apartment community.
“Okay, Isolde,” she gasped. “Don’t tell … anyone … even Tristan.”
Isolde panted without responding. Emma leaned over to catch her breath and walked forward on spaghetti legs. She wiped as much mud from herself as possible before reaching Amber’s door. She waited outside to steady her breath and create a story of why she and the dog were caked in mud, then removed her shoes and left them by the door.
Emma pushed open the door, pausing at the sight of mail lying piled on the linoleum entrance way. The letter on top was addressed to her. Surprised, she snagged it and closed the door. Her mother and Tristan sat in the living room drinking tea.
“Hey Mama, Tristan!” she called and all but ran through the living room.
“Emma!” her mother exclaimed. “What have you been doing?”
“Cross country … um, walking!” she said and slammed the door to the bathroom closed.
She leaned against it with a sigh and pulled off her muddy clothes. She started the shower and sat down, naked, on the toilet seat. She no longer felt like crying now that she was home and Tristan was in the room next to her. She felt like … suppressing everything and never leaving the house again.
She groaned and reached for her letter. No return address. She opened it.
Adam will be back soon.
The letter fell to the floor.
“No, no, no,” she whispered. “It’s not possible!” I saw him die.
Emma slammed the cork on her spinning emotions and climbed into the shower, struggling to scrub free mud, fear, and memories. She calmed under the warm current of water and rested her head against the wall.
Tristan could fix Sissy. She would face whatever else it was that followed.
She stayed in the shower until the water grew too cold to bear. She escaped to the guest bedroom to compose herself before she joined the two in the living room playing backgammon. Her mother sat on the floor, cross-legged like a youngster, snacking from a bowl of popcorn. Tristan was devilishly mysterious in a cool green, short-sleeved cashmere shirt and camel khakis. His feet were bare, revealing well-cared-for feet and long toes. He smelled of sandalwood, night, and dark spices. Emma fought the urge to move closer, if only to smell him.
“Who’s winning?” she asked.
“I am,” Mama answered. “Wanna join?”
“Don’t really care for games. How’s Sissy?”
“Her color’s returned, and she actually smiled in her sleep,” Mama replied. “Tristan thinks she’ll wake in a day or two.”
“Will she be better for good?” Emma asked, eyes drifting to the solid, silent man beside her.
“Yes. She’ll be weak for a while,” he answered without looking at her. Emma’s eyes lingered on his dark eyes. She recalled briefly how he scared her the night before. Was he enough to counter the black witch? What if Olivia found out she failed, tracked her down, and tried to hurt the rest of her family? Once Sissy was well, and her debt to Tristan paid, would she alone be enough to keep the black witch from attacking her family?
Maybe if she surrendered to Olivia, it would be enough to satisfy the psycho. The thought weighed heavily on her.
As if hearing her disturbed thoughts, Tristan looked up to meet her gaze. His eyes were warm, and she found her face growing warm at his direct look
“Why is my dog all dirty?” he asked. “Something you want to tell me?”
Her face grew warmer with irritation.
“Tristan had to take her downstairs and spray her off. Where did you go?” Mama looked up. She couldn’t fault her mother for asking, but she could damn Tristan for instigating.
“Just wandered around and took a detour,” she said vaguely. “Isolde can eat six cheeseburgers.”
“I don’t think you should feed a dog cheeseburgers,” Mama said with a small laugh. Tristan frowned, and Emma sensed he agreed. She looked away from his gaze. “Doodle, why don’t you and Tristan go out tonight? You can get away a little and relax together.”
“We’re here to support you, Mama,” she countered. “Why don’t you take a break instead?”
“Kid, I get the mornings off. Take a break. You always overdo it,” Mama said with familiar firmness. Emma gritted her teeth, seeking some sort of excuse that would not further entrench her mother’s suggestion.
“We’ll go out for a bit,” Tristan said before she found the words.
She wanted to refuse but knew nothing she said would come out tactfully. She needed Tristan here, at least until Sissy was better. She sighed. Tristan’s hand found her wrist, and he drew it to his thigh, caressing its underside again. Her surging emotions faded once more until she felt herself ready to doze. His touch suffused her arm in warmth, his fingers freeing her tension with the slightest touch.
Her eyes closed, soothed. She stayed until their game was over and then went to change for their date.
* * *
Tristan knew she was stalling, but he waited, talking to Mama. Isolde climbed onto the couch and stretched its length, content after a day with some exercise and her bath. Emma finally emerged from the guest bedroom in designer jeans and a blouse that dipped low enough to enhance her full bust. The colors set off her bright green eyes. She was a beautiful girl, her allure as soft as her voice, and her voluptuous figure firm and sultry. She gave him a look that implied she’d rather be on a death march than a date with him.
“Bye, Mama,” she murmured and kissed the plump woman.
“Bye, guys. Have fun!”
Something in Mama’s twinkling eyes assured Tristan that she was rooting for him and not her daughter. He’d never met the mothers of any of the women he dated, suspecting they’d forbid him from speaking to their daughters once they met him and his shadows. He felt grateful to the matriarch of the tiny family for accepting him despite his darkness.
He took Emma’s elbow. They stepped into the soft, cool night, and she tensed, looking around. Something had happened during the day, but he didn’t know what. The foolish woman didn’t seem to understand that he wouldn’t let anything happen to her or her family.
“Do you have a preference where we go?” she asked, tugging away and starting down the stairs.
Tristan trailed, enjoying the feel of night on his skin. A breeze swirled around him, kissing him gently. He closed his eyes as shadows eased towards him, brushing him in a warm-cool combination. Emma stared at him from the first landing, uncertainty and trepidation on her fair features.
“I’d like to talk to you about something,” he said and started forward.
“Why don’t we do this. Why don’t you go out, and I’ll hide in my car for an hour or so.” The resolution in her tone almost drew a smile.
“You want to be alone after today?” he asked.
She turned away and started down the stairs. Tristan joined her at the bottom. Her gaze swept over the dark parking lot, and she shifted uneasily.
“Tristan?” Her voice was hesitant. “Are there more people like you?�
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“I imagine so,” he responded. “Emma, I’m more dangerous than anything else you’ll ever meet.”
“How dangerous, Tristan?” she asked, hurrying to keep up as he started toward her car.
“Nothing bad will happen to any of you as long as I’m around.”
She slowed, deep in thought. Tristan led her into the dark parking lot, aware of her unease. She watched him with as much apprehension as she did her surroundings. He led her to her car and opened the passenger door for her. Emma murmured her thanks and sat, relaxing once in the safety of the car. She was silent again as he pulled out of the parking lot and maneuvered through the complex’s maze.
“You won’t hurt me, will you?” she asked at last. “Or my family?”
“No, Emma.”
“You can see in the dark, can’t you?”
“Yes,” he answered.
“Like a bat?”
“Bats use sonar. Mine is more like night vision. You have an odd obsession with vampires, but I’m not one.”
“I know,” she agreed. “You’re something even more unholy and foul.”
“Like what?”
“A man.”
He chuckled. She shook her head. They were quiet again. Tristan followed the signs to a highway, deftly recalling Mama’s directions to a clump of restaurants.
“I saw four freaks today that looked like they belong on Demon’s Alley,” Emma said and leaned her head against the seat rest, gazing at him warily. “They followed us.”
“Ignore them,” he advised. “Whoever you’ve pissed off doesn’t want you dead yet.”
She stared at him, her look demanding him to explain what he knew. He settled a hand on her thigh, and she looked at it before settling her hands over it.
“You don’t know what you’re dealing with, Emma,” he said softly. “Why didn’t you answer the phone when I called?”
“Maybe I didn’t hear it,” she retorted. “Or maybe you scare me as much as they do. Or maybe I feel guilty for bringing you home with me. Or maybe, all of the above. “ Her fingers tugged at his hand, and she flipped it over, tracing his palm lightly before flattening it again.
“You don’t need to fear me, Emma.”
“I know, but I can’t help it. My luck with men is awful. You have nice hands, Tristan,” she said absently. “I noticed them when we met. I mean, apart from the whole demon eyes glowing in the dark and morphing from shadows display.”
“I really like you, Emma, and I adore your family,” he said. She was quiet. He felt her eyes on him, her thoughts loud enough for him to hear her debating whether or not she could trust him. He drove the rest of the way in silence before pulling off the highway and easing the car into a crowded parking lot next to a massive building.
“You’re sure Sissy will be okay while we’re gone?” she asked.
“Positive. She’ll wake up soon and be healthy as ever,” he replied. She ducked her head, hiding the sparkle of tears in her eyes. He got out of the car and walked slowly around to her side, giving her a minute. “Do you like miniature golf?” he asked as opened her door.
A small smile crossed her face, but she looked at him quizzically. They walked into the crowded foyer teeming with adolescents and families. Tristan ignored the way people moved from his path and the looks he received, instead approaching the main ticket counter. Emma followed, and he turned when he reached the end of the line.
“This doesn’t seem to be your kind of place,” she said.
“How would you know?” he challenged.
“You just seem like a loner who probably doesn’t like people.”
“That’s accurate. But I happen to like fitting in a round of putt-putt when I’m not roasting humans on the spit in my kitchen. That was what you were thinking, wasn’t it?”
She gave a startled laugh, her face reddening with embarrassment. Her smile pleased him. It faded and was replaced by a flicker of concern. Sissy and the shadows were heavy in her thoughts.
“We’ll get through this,” he assured her.
“I hope so, Tristan.”
They played a round of putt-putt. He sensed a thaw as her smiles came more frequently. He didn’t try to question her again about her skeletons in the closet, instead distancing himself. He liked the smiling Emma and wanted to enjoy the moment away from their worries as much as she did.
She’ll trust me when she’s ready.
They played another game of nine holes, and he was pleased to see her relaxed by the time it was done. They hadn’t spoken since they started, and Tristan remained wary. No shadows or darkness dared approach her with him there, and he suspected she sensed this. After a few hours of quiet enjoyment, they left. He offered his hand as they walked through the parking lot. She hesitated but took it.
“You don’t have to, Tristan,” she said as they reached the car.
“Don’t have to what?”
“Well, court me, I guess. I agreed to your terms, so there’s no need to … I don’t know, romance me,” she said awkwardly.
He raised an eyebrow as he opened her door. Emma paused between door and car, awaiting his response. Her gaze was guarded but hopeful. He knew what she wanted him to say, that he wasn’t doing this because of their deal but because he wanted them to be more.
He wasn’t sure he was ready for such a statement, however true it was. He still had his evil to contend with. He nudged her, and she sat with a disappointed look. She rested her head against the headrest, quiet as they left the parking lot.
Tristan thought of Sissy. The girl would be awake in a day or two, at which time he would begin a thorough cleansing of the apartment. He needed Emma’s cooperation to discover what had been tagged and the person who tagged it, but he knew that would take more than a few days to earn her trust enough for her to tell him.
“How dangerous are you, Tristan?” she asked.
“People have an innate sense of danger,” he said. “I’m as dangerous as you think I am.”
“You read minds.”
“That’s one of my skills,” he said. “Do you want to know how?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll trade you one of my secrets for one of yours.”
She hesitated and shook her head. He drove for fifteen minutes before pulling into the apartment complex. Immediately, he noted the shady characters at the main gate. He glanced at Emma. Her eyes were closed.
Tristan whispered a command, and darkness swallowed the figures as he drove by.
“Did you say something?” She roused herself at his voice.
“We’re here.” He parked in a lighted area, and they exited.
“Tristan, I’ll trade you something else for an answer,” she said as she slammed the door.
He waited, watching her. Apprehension slid over her features as she watched the darkness and shadows welcome him, play around him. He wished he wasn’t this way, but he’d long since resigned himself to the knowledge he was. No one else had ever accepted this about him, even his mother, who preferred to ignore his dark half. He hoped Emma would be the first willing to conquer her fear and accept even the dark side of him.
“I’ll trade you a kiss,” she said.
Warmth and surprise flared in response, the shadows and man within him responding to her words. He joined her, moving until their toes touched, and she was forced to arch her neck back to meet his gaze.
“Dangerous,” he murmured, breathing in her scent. “You’re not afraid of me?”
“I am, Tristan, but there’s something about you …” She drifted off, gazing deeply into his eyes. She shook her head to focus. “One kiss for an explanation about reading minds.”
“I agree,” he said. “Kiss first.”
Emma nodded bravely. Tristan lowered his head.
The gentle meeting of their warm lips sent an unexpected spark of warm energy through him. He coaxed her slowly, satisfied that it took little encouragement for her to respond, for her to shake off the sense of restraint th
at bound her normally. It was an unhurried kiss, a long, deep kiss, of two lovers exploring each other for the first time. Emma’s full lips parted unbidden, and he tasted her, the taste of dark honey and spices, a taste that rivaled her intoxicating smell. She did not hesitate to taste him but leaned forward until her body rested against his. Warmth flared as their bodies met, and Tristan placed his hands on the full rise of her hips as she rested her fingertips on his cheeks.
He could get lost in such a kiss with her taste and scent weaving magic around him. Sleeping with this woman would be like none other. He drew away, aware he was becoming too aroused to retain control much longer. The shadows within him were restless, clamoring for a deeper taste with a need stronger than any he’d ever felt. His shadows normally ignored his sexual needs. Not with her, as if they, too, wanted her to accept all of him.
Emma gazed at him, green eyes sparkling and unguarded in the lamp light. Her face was flushed, her lips red and plumped, her breathing shallow. The woman was incredibly appealing, enough so that Tristan pushed her away until their bodies no longer touched.
“Don’t tempt a demon,” he said huskily. He clasped his hands behind his back, twitching with his need to touch her. She blinked, awareness crossing her face, and regained her balance.
“Explanation,” she commanded.
“There’s a sense, rather like ESP, that I have honed,” he said. “It’s like picking up the phone; if you’re not listening, then you don’t hear anything. If you’re listening, you hear what you want to. With you, your thoughts are strong enough to intrude on my privacy, but only when you’re thinking of me, which you do often and not always in glowing terms.”
“You can choose not to listen, right?” she asked pointedly.
“Yes, which I normally do.”
“We lesser mortals appreciate it,” she said, clearly uneasy with his admittance.
There’s nothing lesser about you, Emma. He said nothing and offered his hand, walking with her to the apartment.
