“Then we can continue on with our lives as if nothing threatened to pull us apart in the first place.” She planted a kiss on the top of his nose.
Nodding, Tristan agreed. “In order to convince your father I had nothing to do with your disappearance, you’re going to have to stay behind.”
“There’s no other way around this, is there?” she asked, her eyes filled with undisguised worry.
“No. Either I go alone or I go alone,” he said. “For now, we have no choice but to hide.”
“I don’t like this,” she murmured, burying her face in the hollow of his neck. “But I want to trust that everything is going to be okay. I don’t want to lose you, Tristan.”
He wrapped both arms around her, holding her as close to his body as possible. “I don’t want to lose you, either,” he whispered.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Tristan hoped that Victoria was right and that all would be well. For both their sakes he wished that the Bonvalet would forget about her and didn’t care enough about what had become of her to pursue their search anymore. As much of a stretch as that was, he could only hope it would be so. He didn’t even want to think of what he would do without her. Life would have no meaning, he knew that much, and if he lost Victoria, he wouldn’t go on existing in a world that had no need for someone like him. He’d been alone for long enough and now that he’d found his better half, he didn’t want to continue a lonely existence.
He reached up to caress her face, the back of his hand slowly touching the side of her cheek. Just looking up into those orbs of hers caused his manhood to stir and rise to the occasion. Hot, melting desire pooled in his groin, and he reacted by pulling her down and devouring her beautiful lips. He had the sudden urge to make love to her. To claim her as his once again. To stake his claim on her if only to reassure them both that she was now his wife, his mate, his eternal companion.
It could be their last time and he wanted to savor every second of it.
Without uttering a single syllable, he grabbed her buttocks and kept a firm grip on them as he lifted their bodies off the chair and then carried her to the bed. Within seconds they were both naked and desperately stroking each other. They were a mess of tangled limbs and meshed body parts. When Tristan finally entered her, he took his time. There was no hurry, just a need to take it slow.
They reached the summit together, quietly finding release as they passionately held each other, as if fearing that by letting go they would disappear and never see each other again. Once their ragged breathing slowed and returned to normal, Tristan planted one quick peck on her lips before lying on his back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as she lay comfortably next to him.
Moments passed and neither of them spoke. They just laid still and listened to the rhythm of their breathing pattern, each lost in their own thoughts. Although they were both concerned over their predicament, neither voiced their preoccupations, instead, they opted to keep them to themselves.
A second later however, Victoria reached out to touch his chest and Tristan tensed when the tips of her fingers began to trace over the many scars that marred his upper torso. Though she had noticed them before, she hadn’t remarked on them and he’d found some sense of relief at that. He knew however, that she wondered about it often and it was only a matter of time before she voiced her thoughts.
As if on cue, she said. “Tristan?” He could hear both the hesitation in her voice and the accelerated rhythm of her heartbeat as she looked at him.
“Yes?” He turned to look at her. She balanced her weight on one elbow and stared down at him. “What’s on your mind?” he asked, encouraging her to free her mind once and for all.
Sheepishly almost, she asked, “Are these the result of your days as a blood slave?”
Tristan’s mind was instantly flooded with the memories of those days, so many years ago, when he spent agonizing pain filled days at the hands of the vampire lord and his mistress. He couldn’t help the sudden upsurge of bile and hate he tasted in his mouth as he recalled the torture he’d endured in order to satisfy their lust for blood. He could still hear their maniacal laughter as they used a blade to cut into him, deviously mocking and laughing as he writhed in agony, praying over and over again for death to claim him once and for all.
It had been particularly bad because he’d been awake throughout most of his ordeal. To top it all off, although he prayed for death often, he outlasted all the other blood slaves that were in the dungeon with him. By the eighth week, Tristan couldn’t really tell how he was even alive. He was fed daily, but only enough to keep him alive. The conditions he was kept in weren’t exactly sanitary either, and by the end of his human life, he was pretty sure he had contracted some sort of infection—if that bad fever he had suffered from was any indication.
“Yes,” he mumbled, squaring his jaw as he fought to keep his anger under control. “They cut me often.”
Picking up on his discomfort, she said, “It’s okay. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want.”
He spared a glance at her and inhaled softly. “I’m not mad at you.” He reached out to touch her face. “I’m angry at the memories,” he said. “I’m angry because I couldn’t do anything to stop it.”
She nodded her understanding. “I can’t imagine—”
“It was the worst thing I ever had to go through.” He sat up and drew her to his chest, holding her tight as he inhaled the scent of jasmine that usually accompanied her. “Not even the transformation from human to vampire was as painful. Yes, it hurt, but I was unconscious most of the time so I didn’t feel all of it.”
“Have you ever regretted turning into a vampire?” She draped one arm over his chest and sighed. “Do you still regret it?”
“I did. But now, I’m convinced it was all worth it.” He planted a soft kiss on the top of her head. “I have you.”
Victoria smiled. “You had to wait a long time for me.”
“Now that I have you, the time I spent alone doesn’t even matter anymore.” He watched, amused, as Victoria yawned, trying to keep him from noticing how tired she actually was. “Sleep, Victoria.” He caressed the side of her face with the tips of his fingers. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”
“You promise?” she asked, barely able to keep her eyes open.
“I promise.”
***
Tristan waited a few minutes after Victoria fell asleep before slipping out of bed. Carefully though, as to not disturb her peaceful slumber, he covered her with a thin blanket, observing quietly the rise and fall of her chest as she succumbed to sleep. Once he was certain she wasn’t going to wake up, he hurried to his walk in closet and dressed.
Fully intending to be back before Victoria awoke, Tristan quickly faded back to his cave where he found his belongings ransacked. The huge boulder covering the entrance had been partially moved to the side and by the strong scent lingering in the air, it was obvious at least a few werewolves had been inside, rummaging through his things, trying to find clues as to who he was or where he could be heading next.
Frowning, Tristan swallowed his anger, knowing that although he wanted to beat the beast to a living pulp, he couldn’t allow his rage to take the best of him. He’d come back to do a job and he wasn’t going back to Victoria without making sure Victor no longer suspected him.
The thought of hiding from others didn’t appeal to him at all. He wasn’t one to hide from those pursuing him, but in this case he had no choice but to swallow his pride. It wasn’t his life he sought to protect, but that of his beloved wife.
As he caught the sound of movement outside, he quickly exited through the gaping hole left by the boulder being moved to the side and found himself face to face with a tall, black eyed, dark skinned man and at least six other werewolves in full wolf form. The six wolves growled ferociously at the sight of him, but Tristan ignored them and focused his attention on the man who seemed in charge.
“So, you’re the
resident of his cave?” the man said, keeping his predatory eyes locked on Tristan. “We’ve been looking for you.”
“Yes, and it seems you beasts have made yourselves at home in my cave.” He flicked his long white hair over one shoulder. “I don’t appreciate you mutts making yourselves comfortable in my place.”
Ignoring Tristan’s remark, the man simply glared. “My name is Tyrone, and I’m from—”
“The Bonvalet pack,” he interrupted. “I heard Victor’s looking for me.”
“He has something important to discuss with you.” Tyrone then glanced back over his shoulders and said, “Luke, go fetch the alpha.”
A slightly smaller werewolf with greyish fur took off into the woods.
“What’s this all about?” Tristan asked, pretending not to know.
“You’ll find out in a little bit,” the man said curtly.
“Not much of a talker, huh?” Tristan bit back, forcing a scowl out of the tall man.
“I have nothing to say to you,” Tyrone bit back. “The alpha will be here soon.”
Tristan ignored the obvious hostility and smiled, amused by the absurdity of the situation. Leaning back against the boulder, he crossed both arms over his chest and quietly waited for the alpha’s arrival, which, judging by the loud barks and snarls echoing across the woods, was just seconds away.
The awkward silence that surrounded him was more than welcome, especially because the atmosphere was already tense and he knew things were bound to get worse once the alpha arrived. Though he tried not to, Tristan couldn’t help but think about Victoria. He couldn’t be sure that he would ever see her again, but he certainly hoped so. However, now that he was moments away from facing the most despicable parent he’d ever heard of, he needed to consider the possibility that perhaps the little happiness he found in the beautiful werewolf’s arms was over.
The sight of a tall pale man with short reddish brown hair and green eyes brought him out of his reverie. Had his resemblance to the young beauty Tristan had left behind at his estate not been enough to identify him, his arrogant demeanor alone would have given away who he was. It was obvious by the way the man carried himself, that he was none other than the blood thirsty alpha himself. To his left side, a relatively tall man with long black hair and dark eyes kept pace with Victor. To the alpha’s right, Tristan caught a pair of green eyes staring back at him, whom he recognized as those from the same werewolf from days before, the one Victoria claimed to be her best friend. Behind the trio, at least fifteen more werewolves dangerously trotted toward him. Not one of them took their gazes off him and Tristan immediately recognized the threat behind those eyes. If he moved so much as a muscle they would tear him to pieces.
Mentally preparing himself for what could be his final demise, Tristan lifted his head slightly and smiled. Though he wasn’t afraid, he didn’t want to show them any sign of weakness.
Once Victor came within six feet of him, he stopped, glared, and arrogantly lifted his chin. “I see you have returned to claim what is yours,” Victor said, meaning his words as a threat.
Realizing that the alpha wanted to be challenged over the territory, Tristan scoffed. Though there was no doubt in his mind he could take several werewolves down, he hadn’t come back for a fight. “Actually, I came back because a little birdy told me you wanted to talk to me.”
Victor laughed. “I see the message found you after all.”
Tristan shrugged. “Word gets around fast.”
“In that case, you know why I wanted to talk to you?” Victor practically hissed.
“Refresh my memory; I’ve seem to have forgotten,” Tristan retorted.
The long haired man stepped forward, oozing hostility as he stared at him. “Damn you! This isn’t a game. Where is Victoria?”
Unfazed by the man’s anger, Tristan asked, “And who are you?”
“Armando DeWitt,” he growled.
Ah, so this is the thwarted mate-to-be. No wonder the man is furious, he thought.
“Well, Armando, this matter is between the alpha and me.”
“This matter concerns me,” he barked. “Victoria is my intended.”
Doing his best to stomp down the anger he felt at hearing the possessive tone Armando used in reference to Victoria, Tristan simply ignored the man and directed his attention back to Victor.
“What is it you want from me?” he asked.
“I want to know what you did with my daughter.” Victor’s eyes studied him, hoping to find any indication that Tristan lied in any way. What he didn’t know however, was that Tristan was good at keeping his cool.
“What makes you think I even know your daughter?”
“Our Trackers followed her scent and yours and it’s obvious at some point you two met.” Victor immediately pointed out, as if by not doing so Tristan could deny he’d ever run into his missing daughter. “As a matter of fact, we’re sure you met more than once,” he stated.
“Did we now?” Tristan straightened up, uncrossed his arms, and took a step forward. The second he moved, the twenty-one werewolves snarled menacingly. Ignoring the threats, he placed one hand on his hip and shrugged. “I might have stumbled upon a lone female werewolf a while back,” he said. “What does the missing princess look like?”
What are you playing at?
Tristan spared a glance at Danero, knowing it was his voice invading his thoughts.
There is no game; Tristan sent the message telepathically, careful not to arouse the other werewolves’ suspicions.
Danero did the same. I want to know one thing and one thing only. Is she okay?
She’s fine, Tristan responded.
Did she go with you willingly?
Of course, Tristan assured him. And just in case Danero doubted his words, he sent the image of Victoria’s sleeping form to him to clarify any lingering doubts. The werewolf appeared satisfied with what he saw and looked away.
“I suspect you know exactly what she looks like,” Victor snapped.
“Ah, I seem to recall running into a red haired fury a while back,” he retorted.
Irritated by Tristan’s behavior, Victor took a step forward and growled, putting his pearly white canines on display. “Enough of this game, leech! Where is my daughter?” he demanded.
“I don’t know where she is,” Tristan responded with a smug smile.
“Oh, you will tell me where she is even if I have to peel your skin straight off your bones over and over again,” he threatened.
Unperturbed by the show of testosterone, Tristan tossed a bored look Victor’s way and added, “I don’t know where she went. I bumped into her in my territory, yes. But I told her off and after she apologized for hunting in my grounds, she took off. I don’t know where she went, neither do I care.”
Victor’s eyebrows arched suspiciously. “And you did nothing to harm her?”
“I would have, but after talking to her it was obvious she didn’t know the territory was off limits, so I cut her some slack.”
Victor nodded. “I would believe you, leech, but you see, I have a problem.”
Fighting the need to roll his eyes, Tristan sneered. “Now what?”
“My daughter’s scent is all over you.”
Tristan’s face sobered up pretty quickly after that.
“If you don’t know where she is, how come I can smell her on you?”
Tristan wanted to kick himself. How could he forget something so important? What the hell was he thinking? He should have showered before fading back to face Victoria’s father. After all, who better to recognize her scent than her own flesh and blood?
“Have you grown mute all of a sudden?” Victor snickered.
Though he hated to admit it, he didn’t know quite what to say. How could he deny the accusation without jeopardizing Victoria in any way? Or revealing her location, for that matter?
“Don’t worry, by the end of the day you’ll be singing like a bird,” Victor warned and deep down, Tristan knew the b
astard meant it. “Arrest him.”
Tristan didn’t struggle as the pack pounced on him, putting up a fight would have just made things worse. Before he could even form a protest, the tall dark skinned man and a young boy grabbed a hold of his arms and ushered him forward. With two pairs of hands on him there was no way he could fade away, not without taking the werewolves along for the ride, so for the time being, he had no choice but to quietly follow the men leading him into what he suspected would be his end.
Chapter Thirty
As the pack led the white haired vampire away, Danero slipped away unnoticed and ran as fast as his feet could carry him to the one place he assumed he would find some sort of assistance. Since Madelia had made a point of keeping the vampire’s identity secret, Danero thought that perhaps she cared for him. He only hoped his assumption was correct. After all, if there was one person that could help the vampire lord, it had to be her.
Using his determination to gain momentum, Danero plowed through the woods as if his very life depended on it. Though he didn’t know where Victoria was, something told him that wherever she was, no danger could befall her. It was apparent that the vampire lord had left her safely tucked away somewhere. And though he couldn’t understand it, Danero was almost certain that the white haired blood sucker had just forfeited his life for dear old Victoria. It was clear to him at least, that if the man had risked his own neck for her then he must be either really foolish or deeply in love. A man with a simple infatuation wouldn’t put his very life on the line for a woman he simply desired.
What Danero didn’t understand was the reason why Victoria would allow her mate to come alone. Did she even know he was here? Had it been part of the plan all along? Somehow, Danero doubted that. He didn’t think Victoria would allow the vampire to battle a pack of werewolves alone, so that could only mean the blood lord must have slipped away while she slept. Of course, the man had no way of knowing he would be taken prisoner in the process.
Fierce Awakenings Page 22
