by Lizzy Ford
“I want to be alone, Tristan. I’m done with this trial thing.” Turning away, I begin pulling more books off the shelves. “I’m not going to fuck up anyone else’s life.” Especially not the lives of thousands of people.
“What’re you looking for?” he asks, growing nearer.
“Answers.” I stand on the lowest shelf and reach for the highest, tugging one book down then another. If they’re magical books, I can’t read what they really say.
Tristan’s light touch on my hip is crippling. I freeze in place. The rocking is one thing, but his touch opens the connection between us that leaves me vulnerable, aware of how we’re sharing so much more than a bed. I can feel him inside me, and it’s both soothing and scary.
He stretches upward, his body brushing mine in the process, and takes down the book I’m reaching for.
“You intend to find them in a book on Renaissance paintings?” he asks, lowering the book.
“No.” I’m about to cry again, fighting the effect of his nearness but wanting to cave to the ache inside me that wants his touch. “Tristan, I’m bad luck.”
“I know,” he says.
“I mean really bad luck. Like you should be running the other direction.”
“And I know that,” he replies calmly.
“How are you not remotely upset with me?” I twist to face him. His hand remains on my hip, his gaze ensnaring mine. “Or didn’t they tell you your clan now has only thirty two thousand, four hundred and sixty five fae?”
His scent and nearness are playing tricks on me while the steady thrum of our inner one-ness is fucking with my head. I’ve fallen into a different kind of hole, one I can’t claw my way out of – and don’t want to. But should.
“Talk to me. Tell me what’s got you twisted up,” he says.
I. Don’t. Want. To.
Except I do.
“The babies. The nurse reported me yesterday, remember?” I wipe my eyes. “I touched Bella and Sean and they’re dead now. I went to their room and they were gone. There are condolence flowers over their beds.”
“What do you think happened?” he asks, studying me intently.
“It’s my fault.” My voice breaks. I suck in a deep breath. “I opened their incubators and poisoned their environments or something. I don’t know how to tell you how sorry I am, Tristan, and if you hate me, it’s okay. And if that’s not bad enough, the Book …” I stop and shake my head. “I don’t think I can do this trial shit.” As before, it’s too easy to talk to him, and I speak almost without thought. “I don’t want to ruin anyone else’s life.”
“Leslie.” He tilts my chin up. “How do I explain this?” He looks away for a minute. “The plant on your desk. What did you do to it?”
“What?”
“Humor me.”
Is he crazy? “I watered it. So what?”
“Did you touch it at all?”
I nod, not at all certain what he’s getting at.
“Water didn’t bring it back to life,” Tristan says. “Water didn’t heal those two babies either.”
For the second time today, I don’t feel capable of understanding my world.
“Your magic fae superpower appears to be healing,” Tristan says. “The fae have been suffering from a couple key diseases, one of which has been stealing the lives of children. All the children in the ward are dying. Except the two you touched.”
I don’t know if I’ve ever been this surprised. I release the breath I’ve been holding and search his gaze. “Are you serious?”
“Very.” He offers a smile. “You didn’t ruin anyone’s lives. You saved two of them.”
This changes everything. Sort of. At least, maybe it helps even out the damage I did in Ben’s life and it debunks my theory that I’m cursed to ruin the lives of everyone around me. Now, I think I’m going to ruin some lives and not others. I don’t know how that can be so much better than ruining everyone’s lives.
Tristan steps away from me.
“If you want me to leave, I will,” he says. “For a week, neither of us has to be alone, if we don’t want to. But I’ll respect your decision. Just tell me what you need, okay?”
His warmth is genuine, his words sweet, and this leaves me even more flustered. I’m relieved about the infants but … Tristan can’t know what I’m supposed to do. That I might wipe out or exile his entire clan.
He’s waiting for me to make a decision of some sort, and it feels more important than it appears to be on the surface. If he were Ben, I’d be wrapped in his arms already. Tristan is letting me decide. I’ve never felt less capable of figuring out my life than I do now. The latest chapter from the Book of Secrets is killing me. Whether it means exile or destroy, one clan is going to suffer, if I do what the Book wants me to.
If this is what Kingmakers do, then I don’t want to be one anymore.
I don’t want Tristan to leave. I don’t know that he should stay, either. I should just hide upstairs in my room, alone, until this mess is over, so no one else gets hurt. So I don’t get hurt. I’ve never had a real friend, though, especially not one who knows what I feel or anyone I’ve wanted to comfort as much as be comforted by. There’s a part of me that wants to experience him and another that thinks I need to run before the hole I’ve fallen into gets deeper.
“I don’t know,” I whisper.
He opens his arms.
With some uncertainty, I cross to him and melt into his arms. Tristan wraps me in a warm hug, and I relax against his lean frame. The thrum of our connection is strong enough to pull me a safe distance from the emotional abyss, and I sigh.
“You swear I helped them?” I ask.
“Yes.”
Two out of twelve thousand. I squeeze my eyes closed. “I need ice cream.”
Tristan chuckles. “I can make that happen. Let me guess – rocky road?”
I nod. “And a shower.” I haven’t changed clothes since yesterday morning.
Lifting my head from his chest, I find him watching me. He smiles and touches my face before lowering his head to mine.
The second his warm lips meet mine, desire roars to life between us. His kiss is slow, deep. He tastes of coffee and his own flavor, and I explore the depths of his hot mouth with fervor after being denied this ecstasy last night.
God he tastes good. He controls the pace, as before, and I relax into him, content for now to let him take his time. His cock is soon poking my lower belly. When he breaks off the kiss, I’m on fire with lust from a simple kiss.
“Want company in the shower?” he asks and nibbles my lower lip.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Lead the way.”
I take his hand and hurry towards the stairs and up to the second floor. When we reach the bathroom, I face him, and he kisses me again before dropping to his knees. His hands skim my thighs. He pushes my dress to my hips and then nuzzles my pussy through my panties. I gasp and dig a hand into his hair.
He begins kissing a hot path from my pussy upward, his magic rendering each light touch of his lips an almost orgasmic experience. Groaning, I close my eyes and let my head fall back as his mouth makes the journey slowly up my body. He pushes the dress up as he moves, and I lift my arms when his kisses reach my collarbone.
Tristan tosses the dress and kisses me deeply, this time with far more urgency, as if he, too, needs to satisfy the desire playing between us. He breaks off to strip, and I get rid of my bra and panties then start the shower before he sweeps me once more into his arms. I rub the soft skin of his hard cock with my hand.
“Did you forget what happens when you tease me?” he whispers against my mouth.
“For the record, no!” I laugh breathlessly. “Please, Tristan, don’t make me wait. I need you.” My voice cracks on the last note. I’m embarrassed to know how true those words are, how much emotion is bubbling inside me after the horrible day. It’s harder with his subtle emotions layered on top.
“Say it again,” he says and lifts his
head to gaze down at me.
Self-conscious of how little control I have over speaking my emotions to him, I bat my eyelashes. “Please?” I ask hopefully.
“No.”
“Tristan!” I whine.
“You want my dick inside you? Say the words.” He’s grinning.
“I need you.”
My reward is the most incredible shower sex of my life. Tristan doesn’t tease me this time, though his pace remains slower than I’d like. He presses me to the cool tile wall and lifts one of my legs so his dick can slide into my pussy. I moan in pleasure at the simple sensation, enhanced by his magic. Warm water rushes over us, and I explore his perfect body with my hands. He fucks me slowly, in and out, driving me crazy before long and holding me in that heightened state of absolute desire. Passionate kisses, his large hands branding my skin, his long cock thrusting into me … I’m not above begging him. That’s for sure. But all the begging, lust and fingernails in the world don’t quicken his pace.
He turns me around at some point. The cold wall of the shower makes me gasp as he presses me against it. Tristan slides into me once more, kissing the side of my face, with one of his hand sliding between the wall and me to reach my clit. His strong chest is pressed to my back, his scent swimming in my senses.
“If it’s any consolation, I need you, too,” he whispers before his fingers begin circling and stroking my clit. “And you better never tell anyone I admitted that.”
I’m too lost in my senses to respond.
His dick moves faster in and out, his hips pumping while his fingers mirror his growing urgency in harder strokes that wring cries of ecstasy from me.
“Say my name, my little Kingmaker,” he whispers seconds before he releases us both from his hold.
I cry his name as the wave of pleasure sweeps me away. Tristan’s release is quieter, and he wraps both arms around me, pulling me into his body to steady me while we both tremble and shake. I can’t breathe, can barely think, for some time.
This time, I feel his pleasure. It’s as strong as mine yet distinctly doesn’t belong to me. We’re sharing again, and I’m intimately aware of where I end and he begins – and how that line is blurring.
With his dick inside me, and his quivering frame at my back, I experience that sense again. The oneness. Except I know it’s more than that. It’s … wholeness. As if he’s replaced the pit at the center of my being I’m always debating whether or not I want to throw myself into.
“Stop,” he whispers.
My eyes open, and I nuzzle his cheek. “Stop what?”
“Stop fearing it. We both need this.”
I swallow hard. It scares me to know how affected the candidates are in the trials. I soothed Ben’s pain, and I’m soothing Tristan’s.
I don’t want personal connections, commitments, or intimacy.
Thus far, these trials appear to be about just that. And a side of judgment as I determine who to lead and whose clan to exile.
I’ll never go that far. Maybe Tristan’s right. Maybe I need this more than I know, so I don’t turn into the kind of Kingmaker who can fuck up twelve thousand people.
I turn around in his arms and hug him. The steady stream of water is soothing. I’m terrified of what I feel, of this level of intimacy. But I hold him, and he holds me, and we stand together until the water turns from warm to cool.
Without speaking, we gently wash each other before leaving the shower.
I’m a little freaked out at the bond that seems to be growing stronger between us. Watching him dress, I don’t know what I feel or how to lift the heaviness of all I learned today. Fortunately, the powerful emotions are mostly sedated, the effects of his magic.
“Can I see Sean and Bella?” I ask.
Tristan pauses in buttoning his shirt. I sense a flicker of something cross his eyes without being able to identify it. “Yes. We can go to the nursery when we get back.”
“But …” I prod, not sure what it is he’s feeling.
“I don’t want you visiting the sub-basements without me.”
Surprised by the firm rebuke, I can’t help being a little disappointed, too. I tug on jeans and a soft t-shirt. “Can I ask why? I know it’s your company and all.”
He’s dressed, down to his shoes and suit jacket. Standing from my bed, he appears as serious as I’ve seen him. “I cannot give my people false hope. You healed two fae, but you’re only here for a week.”
I get it. Sort of.
No, actually, I don’t. If I had a week with someone who could heal my clan, I’d put him or her to work doing just that. Doesn’t that seem like the smarter decision?
He’s hiding something more than whatever he’s supposed to keep from me during the trial. Determined to find out what, I finish getting ready and then lead him downstairs. Grabbing my backpack, we leave the row house for his motorcycle parked out front.
Chapter Six
I don’t think Tristan would lie about the two babies, but I can’t help sighing when I see them again. Their recovery is miraculous. Neither requires monitoring by any kind of medical equipment, and they appear healthy with pink cheeks and bright eyes.
They’re located at the other end of the hallway from where they were, close to where the hoof prints turn into lion paw prints.
“Hi, guys!” I greet them quietly.
As before, they both look at me.
I’m happy they’re better but god, that’s scary.
“They’re perfectly fine?” I ask, glancing at Tristan. One of his arms is around my hips, and he’s smiling.
“They were cleared to go home earlier today. Their parents should be by before six or so,” he replies.
“I did that,” I murmur, fascinated. “It wasn’t them zapping me. I zapped them.”
“You would’ve felt the use of your magic somehow. A headache, loss of energy, or similar.”
“Yeah. I felt that.” I look at him. “Tristan, what’s wrong with them?”
I feel his mood dampen. His mood swings are nothing like mine. He doesn’t go from extreme to extreme. His shifts are as subtle as his magic.
He studies me, as if not entirely certain he wants to share this part of his life, before he takes my hand and leads me to the door. We walk down the hallway to the nursery. Instead of standing outside it, he leads me into the interior. One nurse is checking the charts of each baby and steps aside as we pass.
“Daily checks, Viola,” he tells the nurse.
“Yes, sir,” she answers.
Tristan releases me and goes to the baby nearest us. He rests his hand on the newborn’s chest lightly and closes his eyes, tilting his head as if he’s listening. Whatever answer he hears, he steps away to the next then the next, doing the same.
He checks all twelve babies. The skin around her eyes and mouth tight, the nurse is watching him, clutching and releasing her clipboard in what I take to be anxiety. I can’t sense her emotion, but I can that of the babies. Or ... I almost can. They all seem sad.
Tristan moves before the nurse, who searches his face hopefully. He takes one of her hands and squeezes it.
“None,” Tristan says.
The light in her eyes disappears, and her shoulders sag. And then she starts crying.
I can’t quite understand what’s going on. Tristan is gentle with her. He wraps an arm around her shoulders and escorts her out of the nursery while she sobs.
Whatever just happened, it’s not good. This much I can figure out. I lean over the fae-by nearest me and study the plump face of the newborn girl. She looks nothing like Sean and Bella did. She seems healthy, but what do I know?
“What’s up?” I ask her softly.
Her eyes go to me, along with those of every other baby in the nursery.
“You guys are cute, but it’s really freaky when you do that shit,” I tell them.
The baby nearest me raises her fat little fist and kicks her feet. She doesn’t seem like she’s diseased or in danger of illness like the ot
hers. However, Tristan said all the babies on this floor are dying.
I hesitate and glance towards Tristan and the nurse. His mood is darker, though he shows absolutely no emotion on the outside. He appears to be trying to comfort her. They’ve been joined by a second nurse who is, thankfully, not the redhead who yelled at me the other day.
The baby makes a weird baby-sound, a tiny yell of complaint.
Fuck Tristan’s false hope. If I can help someone, I will. He can deal with whatever shit his people give him, but I definitely won’t lose any sleep knowing I’ve saved a few fae-bies.
“Okay, okay.” I step to her bed and reach in to take her fist.
At once, the dizziness sweeps over me. Tristan’s explanation makes sense, and I count to five then release the baby’s hand. I have no idea how this works or how a Kingmaker, who nobody remotely likes, lands such an incredible gift.
I shake my head and step away. The hands of two more fae-bies rise, and I go to them. It’s kind of cool they volunteer, that they can sense what I can do. Standing between their two beds, I take their hands and brace myself.
The wave is stronger this time, but I also feel stronger, as if being bonded to Tristan has helped stabilize the effects of my superhero magic. I release these two and shake off the spell. I’m dizzy when I walk. It seems like a small price to pay to help these kids.
A flicker of anger resurges, and I grit my teeth. Who the fuck does the Book of Secrets think it is? I’m in charge of my life! I’m not going to exile thousands of people let alone do anything that makes them perish. There’s no way in the world, in any world!, where that happens. The last I heard, I still have some control over my life.
“I bet your daddies never told you to get rid of twelve thousand people,” I say to the newborns.
Five more fists are raised. I move between another two beds and take two fists. This time, I almost crash into a bed when I stumble away. More hands are raised. My head pulses and I’m starting to see spots. All I can think of is the thousands of lives whose fates I’m supposed to decide.
What if I can’t save whichever clan it is? What if I can’t break the Kingmaker curse, whatever it may be? I don’t have to know what it is to understand no curse can be good, and one that requires the sacrifice of thousands has got to be horrible.
