“This,” he motions, indicating my dismal state, “wouldn’t have something to do with our new lecturer, would it?”
I lean further into the desk. “Nope.”
He lifts both eyebrows at me and stays silent for a moment before speaking. “You’re a terrible liar.”
“What are you doing here?” I ask, shifting focus.
“Turns out, I’m Gallagher’s teaching assistant for the semester. I needed to speak to him about my schedule.”
I snort. “Yeah? Good luck with that.”
He chuckles, without humor. “Thanks.”
An awkward beat passes between us before he speaks.
“All okay with Magali? I haven’t seen her lately,” he hesitates. “I think she might be avoiding me.”
I toe the ground. “She’s good. Just busy.”
His expression falls. “Busy?” he repeats, unconvinced.
I lift my eyes to his. “Ryker—”
His features turn grim. “I never meant to hurt her.”
“But you did.”
“I know,” he exhales.
I watch Ryker for a few moments. “Mags just needs a little time to process everything. To figure things out. I know it wasn’t planned, but you and Ireland upset her.”
He sighs. “You can’t help who you fall in love with, Serena. It happens when it’s meant to.”
I stare at the open door where Tristan just stormed out, and let out a rough exhale. “I wouldn’t know, Ry.”
Ryker steps toward me and pulls me into an embrace before placing a light kiss on my temple. “For a badass gargoyle princess, you’re looking pretty pathetic these days, you know that?”
“Hey,” I push at him and giggle. “Mean.”
He chuckles while I rest my cheek on his heart. “You have a lot to offer someone, Serena, and when the universe is ready, it will present you with an epic love. I promise.”
“What the hell is going on?” Tristan growls.
Ryker freezes, and his hands tighten on my waist.
Tristan’s words hang in the air before I manage to look around Ryker and meet his seething expression.
Um, what?
I don’t bristle. Confused at his reaction and annoyed with his new constant presence in my life, I decide I’ve had it with Tristan’s shit for the day. My temper is rising at the accusation he’s making with his irate glare.
Plastering on a fake smile, I use my sickly sweet voice.
“Whatever do you mean, Professor Gallagher?”
“Serena!” He barks out my name.
Ryker moves to the side and opens his mouth to say something, but I step in front of him, interjecting.
“Oh, do you mean, what am I doing with your teaching assistant? I was just offering him sex in exchange for a passing grade this semester. Since—you know—I tend to be tardy a lot and all.”
I smirk at him and adjust my protector bracelet.
Ryker’s eyes slide closed just as a predatory smile forms across Tristan’s lips. He purposely stares me down, while trying to look authoritative.
“Get out!” The demand is directed at my friend.
Ryker’s eyes pop open and he watches me.
I nod my approval for him to leave, but he hesitates for a moment, his nostrils flaring. “Are you sure?”
Tristan grins, wickedly. “She doesn’t need your security, gargoyle. She already has a protector.”
Ryker snaps his gaze to Tristan. “Well, Professor, Rulf isn’t here at the moment, and with the way you’re seething at her, for no reason, I think she just might need one.”
I step in between the two. “I appreciate your concern, Ry, but I can take care of myself. It’s best if you just go.”
He looks down at me, unconvinced.
“There is no need for you to get involved in this,” I add.
After a moment, Ryker nods and heads to leave, but not before bumping Tristan’s shoulder on his way out.
Tristan doesn’t flinch.
His wild eyes stay fixated on me.
“What was he doing here?” Tristan growls.
“He’s your new teaching assistant. He needed his TA schedule,” I answer. “Ryker is a friend of mine. You need to show him some respect moving forward.”
Tristan tilts his head. “Is that so, raindrop?”
My heart surges with irritation at his tone.
When the protector’s gaze settles on me, the look on his face and in his eyes sends shivers across my skin. After a moment, he curses, slamming the door to his office shut and charging toward me in one smooth motion, releasing a roar that causes the walls in my chest to constrict around my heart.
Taken aback by his temperament, I lean back onto his desk as he pushes into my personal space, placing a warm palm to my chest.
“What are you doing?” I whisper, shakily.
“I have the gift of empathy and soul sight,” he explains.
“Gargoyles don’t have souls,” I remind him.
“No, but if I touch you near your heart, it helps me to feel and understand your emotions better,” he clarifies.
I try to move away from his hand, but he shakes his head and keeps me firmly planted against the desk.
“And why would you want to do that?” I ask, losing my willpower to move out of his grasp.
“Do what?” he mutters.
“Understand me?”
He smells like cinnamon, cigarettes and all things forbidden and warm. I bite back a moan.
Tristan ignores my question but I can tell the material between his hand and my skin is hindering his reading abilities because he moves his hand upward, until it’s at the base of my throat. Then he slides it up even farther, until his fingers and palm are flush against my neck.
An overwhelming need to be closer to him starts to take over, but I curb it, having learned my lesson ten minutes ago.
Tristan runs his fingers over my jaw, slowly slipping his hand behind my neck. His palm conforms perfectly to it, as if it were made to hold me. But that’s silly, right?
His chest meets mine and it creates a sensation so powerful, I can’t help but shiver in response. My hands white-knuckle the edge of the desk when his breath falls in waves across my mouth. Tristan’s gaze drops to my lips, which I part slightly.
“Since you’re not an empath, Serena, I guess your erratic behavior around me can only mean one thing,” he rasps.
I try to swallow. “What’s that?”
A cocky smirk crosses his mouth, but it doesn’t match the serious tone he’s using. “You’re attracted to me.”
I don’t respond, and Tristan’s body pushes mine further into the desk. It’s like he’s trying to mold us into one being so I won’t disappear. And holy crap, it feels incredible.
His fingers slide into my hair, pulling me closer. The small sound of pleasure I make causes his mouth to immediately connect with mine, and as our lips move across one another’s, relief floods me—I can finally breathe.
His kiss is deep and heart-stopping, but with an edge of something that fills me with nervousness and heartache. I sink into his warm lips as he parts mine, allowing our tongues to explore one another. Never in my life has something felt so good, and at the same time ached so badly.
Almost as quickly as it began, it’s over.
Without warning he pulls his lips away from mine, causing me to whimper in protest at the loss of contact. The small sliver of space between us is too much, and I move forward to take his mouth again, but he jerks back.
His eyes, clouded with hunger, stay on mine, but the desire in his face clears, and a frown creases his brow. Tristan looks sad, lost, almost broken. My heart skips a beat at the sudden change in him.
The need to soothe his unhappiness overtakes rational thought. Slowly, I lift my hand to his stubble-covered jaw and allow my fingertips to follow the tight line comfortingly.
The shift in his mood triggers a flash of something behind his gaze. Recognition of his actions, maybe. Wi
th a sense of urgency, he immediately removes his hand from me and steps back, creating a gap.
Ungracefully, I try to stand on my own. Once I’m steady, Tristan takes another step back, allowing more space to come between us.
After a moment, he leans in, his breath warming my ear.
“The next time you’re overcome with the need to kiss me, raindrop, either do it correctly or not at all.”
Mortified at my own actions, my eyes squeeze shut.
When they reopen, he’s gone.
Tristan
The sun crests on the horizon as my bike makes its way over the winding cobblestone roads, passing the rugged coastlines, toward Torc Mountain.
My mind replays what happened this morning between Serena and me, over and fucking over.
I’m an idiot.
All logical thought escaped me the second she first pressed her lips to mine. I returned to my office, with every intention of apologizing and setting her straight, only to walk in and see her in her friend Ryker’s arms.
That’s when I lost my shit, and apparently, all sense of right and wrong. The need to taste her, to consume every part of her, flared within me. My second lineage pushed to the top of my blood, causing me to act without thought.
I can’t control my mind, as more images of Serena pressed against me flash through my head. I really need to get this shit under control. I can’t keep letting who I am override why I’m attached to this assignment.
Pressing my lips together in annoyance, I let out a small growl of irritation at my own moment of weakness earlier.
I continue to weave my way through the hidden paths of the Killarney National Park, but the lush green ride through nature, which is usually soothing, isn’t calming me today. Once I’ve climbed to the middle of the mountain, I park my bike behind a large tree and look out over the lake.
“Got your message.” Zander appears out of thin air.
“Thanks for coming.” I hold out my hand and pull him into a one-armed hug when he takes it.
“Anytime.” He claps my shoulder and steps back.
I pull out a cigarette and light it. He’ll hate it, but right now, it’s the only thing that will calm my jittery nerves.
“What’s going on, Trist?” He watches me.
I blow out a long stream of smoke through my lips.
“I need your help.”
“What’s up?”
“I want you to help me run a hand-to-hand combat training session—at the Academy.” I bite my bottom lip.
His eyebrows shoot up. Zander glances at me, then at the ground, like he isn’t sure if I’m being serious or not.
“You’re not serious?” he asks.
I remain silent, regarding him. After a second, he swears and runs his hands through his hair, watching me closely.
“I’m a satyr, Tristan.”
I dip my chin. “I’m well aware of your bloodlines.”
He leans against a tree trunk. “In case you’ve forgotten, the supernatural world tends to view those with my bloodline as second-class citizens who are only good for bedding. I’m not sure the Royal Protector Academy would approve of my assisting you in training their elite protectors. Especially in hand-to-hand, which tends to require a hands-on approach.”
My eyes turn angry. “I don’t care what they think. You’re my best friend and brother. You command an entire army that we’ve trained together—the finest across all the realms. You’re smart, strategic and skilled—”
“And full of sexual prowess,” he finishes.
“Which can be controlled,” I state.
“You and I know that. Do they?” he huffs.
“Twice a week, for two hours, over the next four months,” I say slowly. “That’s it.”
“Why this training session?” I ask.
“You know why,” I reply.
I wait for him to say more. Instead, he takes a step back.
“Is there another reason you need my presence?”
Damn. He knows me so fucking well. “No.”
He nods in disbelief. “You sure?”
No. Not at all.
“What are you getting at, Zander?” I growl.
“I think you’re afraid to be all touchy-feely with the princess you’re protecting. You’re scared that she’ll start seeing you as her prince, instead of the villain,” he replies.
I shift on my feet, uncomfortable because he’s right, and irritated that he can read me like a book.
“I’m not her Prince Charming,” I counter.
“What makes you so certain?” His eyes hold mine.
“I don’t love, or get attached to anyone or anything. That includes a charge that I’m blood bonded to. The. End.”
“Ringing endorsement for your future bride.”
“Zander,” I growl out.
“Fine. I’ll help,” he exhales.
“Thank you.”
“For the record, the darkness you carry around with you—it doesn’t mean you don’t need or deserve love.”
I force away the black stain on my heart and vow to take control of my actions moving forward around Serena.
Zander scans the lake. “So can Princess Serena fight? Or are we starting from square one with her?”
“If I had to guess, she doesn’t have a right hook.”
Serena
MY HANDS TIGHTEN INTO FISTS BEFORE I pop off a right hook, landing it solidly into Tristan’s left cheek.
A satisfied grin appears on my lips as I watch him blink a few times out of confusion.
His expression registers shock that I wailed on him.
Standing straight, he rubs his cheek, looks down, and sighs. “I guess I deserved that, raindrop.”
At the use of the annoying nickname, I wind up to repeat the punch. Catching me off guard, he grabs my wrists and places them above my head, backing me into the wall.
With a moan, he lowers his head to mine. Right before our lips touch, I gasp and yank myself out of my daydream.
God. I need to stop fantasizing about Tristan.
Tired, Magali and I make our way across campus in silence. I’d forgotten how long the Academy’s days are.
Continuing on with the rest of my day was cruel after tasting Tristan’s lips on mine. Our brief encounter this morning left me feverish, longing, and moody.
And evidently, a bit violent.
I know Mags senses something is off but surprisingly, she isn’t pushing me for information.
A flash of Tristan’s forlorn expression hits me. The haunted look in his eyes shadowed me throughout the day. I need to guard my reactions and keep it together around him. Cringing, I remember that he lives with us, and I’ll have to face him again when we return to the suite.
As darkness falls, a cool breeze plays with my hair, lifting and twirling the strands as it carries a barely audible whisper over me. There’s a raw edge to the hum, almost like it’s a cry of distress.
I stop walking and my focus shifts to the direction the sound came from. My eyes scan the silhouettes of trees and bushes that line the lush, grassy forest located behind the old gothic stone buildings.
“Did you hear that?” I ask Magali.
“Hear what?” The crease between her brows deepens.
I become silent and wait a moment longer, for the murmur to resonate with me again.
But there is only quiet. Confused, I turn and face my friend before brushing it off.
“Nothing, I guess.”
Had I imagined it?
“Are you sure?” she presses.
Another light gust pushes between us, and this time the murmur is hypnotic and woeful.
I study Magali’s face for any hint of a sign that she might have heard it too, but she’s just looking at me with a concerned expression.
“You’re acting weird. What is going on, Ser?”
Another compelling sigh draws near and my head snaps back to the forest. A strange urgency bubbles within me to comfort whatever is hurting.
Without thought, I start to move toward the wooded area. Magali grabs my elbow, stopping my movement, forcing my attention to her before letting go so she can sign.
“Where are you going?” her fingers fly.
My gaze shifts between her and the trees. I don’t know for sure what’s making the despondent noise, and since she can’t hear it, I’m not about to put my friend in danger.
“I . . . um . . . there’s somewhere I need to be.”
She glances past me to the tree line.
“Are you about to do something insanely stupid?”
“I don’t think so.”
Mags cocks her head to the side, assessing me. “You don’t think so?” she repeats, slowing her hand gestures.
Another whisper emanates out of the woods, beckoning me. “I’ll explain later.” I rush toward the forest, before Magali can stop me again.
As I draw closer, a flash of purple catches my attention. The logical part of me demands that I turn around and go back to the suite, but my gut is telling me to continue until I find the source of the forlorn cry.
The smell of pine and wet, decaying leaves assaults my nose as I make my way through the overgrown forest.
Darkness has fully descended, and the night air is cool in my lungs. I take in a deep breath and seek out the amethyst hue.
My eyes close and I focus on my heightened hearing, listening for movement. But the only sound that greets me is the soft sound of water babbling in the stream.
Reopening my gaze, I wander toward the creek and take a seat on one of the large river rocks. The shadows crawl in farther, settling deeper around me, blanketing the forest.
The inkiness causes the exposed bark on the trees to appear black as it curls and folds into itself.
A gentle wind sweeps through the trees. In the distance a crow softly caws, and crickets begin their nightly song.
With a quick twist of my wrist, I summon a thin, steady stream of water to flow out of the brook and into my palm.
Like my mother’s, my powers thrive in nature, allowing me to control and manipulate earth and weather elements.
Once the cool liquid connects with my skin, the stream begins to glow amethyst. The color is a peace offering for the xana I know is lurking around the inky woods.
Vernal Page 6
