“I like secrets,” Xander said.
“Not that you’re very good at keeping them.” Tristan didn’t even look up at his brother while he spoke.
It was hard not to stare at the way Tristan’s folded arms made his gigantic biceps bunch up or the way his muscled chest rose and fell slowly with metered breaths.
He had to be at least six feet six.
“So you two live together?” She pointed a finger between them. “Alone?”
“Yeah,” Xander said. “We only have each other. It gets super lonely, right, Tristan?” His eyes were mischievous as he put a hand on Tristan’s shoulder, which Tristan glared at, then forcefully shoved off.
“Um, I see.”
“Less lonely with you here,” Xander said, pinning her with that handsome face that was similar yet different to Tristan’s.
Kelsie blinked. “What do you mean?”
“I’ll show you.” Xander strode forward as he spoke, beat-up motorcycle boots clicking on the hardwood floor as he moved. When he reached her, he propped himself on the arm of her couch, looming over her.
Then he gave her what Kelsie could only assume was his take on a panty-melting smile. “So, Kelsie, what do you think about—”
Tristan calmly walked over, grabbed his brother by the shoulder, and threw him roughly on the ground. Then he shoved a sneakered foot onto his brother’s chest, holding him in place.
Xander looked up at his brother with a nonchalant grin. “Ah, is she yours? Sorry about that, Tristan.”
Tristan put both hands up to pinch the bridge of his perfect nose. “She’s not… Just get out the hell out of here. You’re making everything weird.”
Xander pushed himself up and put out his hands, trying to look innocent as he backed out of the living room toward a nearby corridor. “It was nice to meet you, Kelsie. And—”
“Out!” Tristan shouted,
“Fine. But I warn you, Kelsie, this guy is super boring. And uptight. Just saying.”
Tristan glared daggers, and Xander disappeared down a long hallway, chuckling to himself.
Tristan let out a long sigh and slumped down on the other end of her couch, making it shake slightly.
Though he was still a few feet away, she could almost feel his body heat.
“I’m sorry if I caused trouble between you and your brother,” she said, glancing at the hallway Xander had disappeared through.
“He just likes getting a rise out of me,” Tristan said, shaking his head. “Out of anyone, really.”
“I see.” Kelsie moved the now-empty plate from her lap to the coffee table. But without something for her hands to hold on to, she just clasped them together, trying to not fidget.
Tristan had saved her twice and didn’t seem to think anything of it. She wasn’t sure how to deal with the situation.
“So what’s your deal? Aside from using groceries to subdue thugs in dark alleys at night.”
Tristan finally laughed, a warm, reserved sound that gave her the impression he didn’t do a lot of it.
She wanted to hear it again and again. So much.
“I…” He trailed off, running his hand through his hair, mussing it further. Like someone had just taken him to bed. She wanted to be that someone.
He coughed, though she had no idea why.
“Not much to say about me.” He glanced at the window. “I do investment stuff for work. The boring kind, mind you. I like cooking. I collect art.”
“You collect art?” She couldn’t keep the excitement out of her tone. “That’s unexpected.”
“It is?” He raised a thick eyebrow, sounding vaguely offended.
Kelsie waved her hands nervously. “No, no. It’s just I like art too. We have that in common. So it’s unexpected because of me, not because of you. Does that make sense?”
His eyebrow remained raised.
“It’s interesting,” she said quickly. “There. Fixed it. Voilà.”
He smiled, not giving her the satisfaction of a laugh just yet. “I’m glad you think so. And what about you? Do you spend all your time taking on thugs and climbing scaffolding like it’s Everest?”
She laughed. “No, my life is usually a bit more boring than that.” She looked around the place again while she collected her thoughts. So gray. So clean.
So unused-looking.
She sighed. “I’ve been mostly on my own since I became an adult. Worked my way through school to get a degree in something I loved, art history with a minor in photography. But of course, neither of those two things is particularly good at paying bills. So for now, I’m destined to a life of waitressing.”
“And?” He raised both eyebrows, softening the intensity of his expression for a moment.
“And what?”
“A life of waitressing and… insert ‘my hope slash dreams’ here—i.e. I’m an investment manager, but I hope to be a competitive windsurfer someday.”
It was her turn to laugh, the tension of finding herself in a new place gradually melting as she became increasingly more comfortable sitting next to Tristan.
“Yes, you’re right. I hope to be a professional photographer.”
“Fashion? Studio? Portraits?” he asked.
“Art. Both formal art and just art out in the world. I’m not too great at producing it, but I love appreciating it and helping others appreciate it as well. Maybe I just love beauty.”
“I relate to that.” His blue eyes seemed to flash with something, his gaze not turning away for a second. Suddenly, the room seemed a little hotter, and Tristan seemed to be sitting a little closer.
Still not touching, still a respectful distance away, but almost close enough that she could reach out and—
Diffusing the tension, Tristan leaned forward and picked up her camera, asking, “May I?” He waited for her nod of approval before looking the equipment over.
“Nice model, by the way.”
The fairly bulky device seemed small in his big hands as he gingerly turned it over, inspecting it thoughtfully.
“So I guess this camera is the source of your night-prowling, scaffold-climbing superpowers? If it is lost, then you…”
“Turn into a pumpkin,” Kelsie replied with a playful shrug. “Yup, you got me. Or perhaps even worse, a photographer with nothing to take photographs with.”
“Ah. A terrible fate indeed,” he said sagely. “So do you take photos of specific things or just candids?”
“Everything, really. But I love things that are painted, canvas or otherwise.”
“So is that what you were poking around for? Perhaps a specific kind of art someone might find on this side of town.” There was just a hint of awareness in his voice that made Kelsie wonder if he was on to her.
Getting warmer.
“Or maybe a local artist whose particular style you find fascinating?” His profile as he gave her a sidelong glance was like that of a Greek sculpture.
Hot.
Very hot.
“Either way, you’re very dedicated to art. I can say that.” He handed her back the camera, making her core tighten as their fingers brushed.
With a heave, he stood up, towering above her. “Here, let me show you something.” He offered his hand to her, and she took it, too intensely curious about what this mysterious man might show her to say no.
“What is it?” she asked as he headed down a different hallway than Xander had taken, past the living room and deeper into his apartment.
“If I told you right out, it wouldn’t be a secret, would it?” His hands were in his pockets as he walked, though she had to move fast to keep up with his long strides. “But given your proclivities, I think you’ll like it, Kelsie.”
There was already something she very much liked, right in front of her.
She just didn’t know how to get it.
Chapter 6
You should have sent her home as soon as she woke up. The logical part of Tristan’s brain lectured sternly. You should have told her you
’ll never see her again.
Yes, that would have been safer. The way he had existed all of these years.
But seeing her pretty brown eyes light up when she spoke about art, he couldn’t resist showing his collection to someone who might appreciate it.
They reached two heavy steel doors with a fingerprint scanner to the side of them, and he placed his hand on it. It beeped, and one door clicked, allowing him to swing the two-thousand-pound thing open so they could go inside.
“This isn’t going to be like your crazy sex dungeon or something, is it?” she joked.
He laughed nervously, shaking his head. “No. Of course not.”
There had to be sex happening to justify building a sex dungeon.
Tristan still didn’t know what to think about Kelsie. The first time he’d saved her, it had felt like a fluke. But then he’d been there just in time for her to fall, literally, into his arms.
Or claws, since he’d had to cloak and transform in order to catch her in time.
He motioned to let Kelsie go ahead into the room, and she looked up at him for a moment, brown eyes sparkling with curiosity. The same implacable curiosity he’d seen in her both times they’d crossed paths.
As well as courage. Perhaps too much of it.
That kind of courage was practically addictive for dragons like him.
“Go ahead. I can promise there isn’t a three-headed dog waiting for you inside.”
“Cerberus joke. Classic yet a little weird. I’m sold,” she exclaimed, marching ahead.
She was like no human he’d ever met.
“Whoa. You weren’t joking, were you?” Her footsteps came to a halt as she looked at the dozens of pieces hung around her. Some in antique frames, others without a frame, while some of the more modern pieces were propped on pedestals.
“I mean, I did say art collector when describing myself. It would be slightly underwhelming if there were only three or four pieces here.” He folded his arms, not knowing what to do with his hands when she was so close.
“Oh my God, this is amazing,” Kelsie said, gazing at one piece, then the next, looking almost overwhelmed. Then she turned to him with her hands on her generous hips, a playful smile on her face. “Do you always bring unsuspecting art majors here to impress them?”
“Well, you’d be the first.”
The first everything, frankly.
“No way,” she said, laughing. “You probably say that to all the damsels in distress you bring back here after saving them.”
“No.” He hadn’t said this many words to a human woman in literally his entire life. “Never. Xander can vouch for me. This is the inner sanctum. This whole apartment, really.”
“Why?” Kelsie looked aghast. “This place is amazing. You guys are amazing. How could you just hide?”
She didn’t understand his situation. She couldn’t. It was rare, even in the paranormal world he occupied that she had no idea even existed.
“Well, I guess you have your reasons,” she said calmly, giving him a smile.
Tristan’s eyes followed Kelsie as she walked from piece to piece, occasionally gasping with surprise or delight. He loved how expressive she was, how her emotions seemed to light up the room, bring life to everything around her.
She wasn’t just attractive. She called to something deep within him. Something that had been so dormant he’d been able to ignore its existence. Maybe far too long.
He came up alongside her, feeling that buzzing sensation he felt the first night he’d met her in the alley.
“So what were you really looking for all by yourself? Why the danger? Surely, there’s art to photograph in places that aren’t dangerous,” he said.
She bit her lip nervously, then turned to face him. “Can you keep a secret?”
“Yes.”
“Have you heard of Astray?”
“Yes, why?” His answer was almost instant. Almost everyone knew of the street artist.
She took a deep breath. “So he works New York. Or, at least, he used to. Some people say Chicago before that. But it always stopped suddenly. Well, a few weeks ago, when I was at a thrift store looking for some spare equipment, I went outside and stumbled upon a piece of wall art that I’m certain is his.”
Tristan cocked his head, waiting for more info.
“So I’ve been looking for other pieces. I did my final project in modern art on him, so I know what types of mediums he uses and where he tends to work.”
“So when you endangered yourself at the alley and the construction site, you were looking for his work?” Tristan couldn’t help but be exasperated at the reason she had put herself at risk.
“Yeah. I don’t want anyone to know because the online community hasn’t seemed to have picked up on it yet. I’m hoping to find as many of them as possible, then release pictures to the world all at once before anyone else finds them.”
“Why? You can’t make money off them that way.”
“I mean, I’m not trying to. If people like my photos, then great. But really, I just want to preserve Astray’s art. So everyone can enjoy it. I mean, I assume you know what happened in New York.”
“Yes, but—”
“I want to prevent that. His work is too good to lose.”
He took a deep breath in, praying for patience. “So when you leave here, you’re going right back out on the hunt.”
She bit her lower lip, a habit he couldn’t help finding adorable. “I know I probably shouldn’t. Maybe the universe is trying to send me a message. But I can’t just give up.”
She moved on to the next painting, but her face was tense.
It did suck for her. The world should be safe for everyone. Not just certain genders at only certain times of day in certain parts of town.
Perhaps if someone helped her…
He had an idea then, one that lit up in him, too bright to possibly ignore, though it was probably a bit stupid. And definitely out of character for someone who enjoyed privacy as much as he did.
“I can’t let you keep doing this,” he said firmly. “Next thing I know, you’ll be cruising the sewers, and I’ll have to save you from mutant aberrations lurking beneath the city.”
She folded her arms, pushing up ample cleavage it took everything in him to look away from. “You can’t stop me. I’m sorry you’ve had to get involved, but—”
“Who said I was stopping you?”
“But you said—”
“I meant I can’t let you keep doing this. Alone.”
She blinked at him, long lashes fluttering, and pushed an errant curl behind one ear. “What? I don’t understand—”
“If it helps, I know where a few of his pieces are,” Tristan said. “Just since they’re in my part of town. I could take you to them.”
Her eyes lit up, but then she hesitated. “I don’t want to cause more work for you.”
“Not at all. It would save me the trouble of trying to rescue you at an inconvenient time and hopefully cut down on my grocery bill.”
She laughed at that, a tinkling sound that echoed in the vaulted art room. And in his heart. “I can see that. I’m really sorry about your groceries, by the way.”
He waved a hand. “It’s fine. So what do you think?” Deep down, he knew he just wanted to spend more time with her. Maybe she felt the same.
It was just for a while. Just because he wanted her to be safe.
No other reason, no matter what the dragon inside him said.
“I guess so,” she said. “I should probably just take a few days off, get a motel room so we can get it done quickly.”
“No, that’s—”
She cut him off, waving a hand and grinning up at him. “Don’t worry about it. I actually checked on a couple places when I first knew I’d be exploring this part of town. Just in case I stayed out too late to catch a bus back. The guy at the Home Inn on Balor said he’d give me a great rate.”
Tristan could feel the blood leaving his face at the
image of her staying in such a disgusting, vermin-infested, and, frankly, dangerous place.
“I’m guessing that’s a bad idea, just based on your general reaction,” Kelsie said, looking amused.
“Yes, it’s bad!” He threw his arms up in exasperation as he spoke. “It’s probably the best place to get murdered, next to sketchy back alleys and construction sites.”
“You have a good point.”
“Please, please do not stay in any hotel, motel, or any overnight lodgings this side of the interstate.” He put his hands on his hips, feeling stern. “I forbid it. I will track you down, beat off the drug addicts in the hallways outside your room, and carry you back here if you do.”
She frowned. “So should I just bus in every day, then?”
He didn’t like the idea of that either. “You should stay here. With me and Xander.”
“You mean in your place?” Kelsie was aghast. “Fancytown?”
“I…” He had no idea what to even say to that. “Fancytown?”
“Because it’s so beautiful,” she said, looking around the room. “Besides, I can tell you really value your privacy. It’s okay. I can take the bus or the subway in every day. It’s not a big deal.”
But it was to him. He didn’t want her going back and forth to this dangerous area all alone. The dragon in him forbade it. “Please just stay here. It might be nice having someone around.”
She stared at him then, and he felt too seen by her. Like she pierced through the façade that surrounded him and looked right at his lonely heart. “Well, if you really don’t mind…”
“I don’t.”
She sighed. “I don’t know how to repay you. Or why you are doing this for me.”
Tristan glanced around the art gallery and was struck with a quick idea. One that might help both of them. “You could photograph my collection. I’ll even pay you. It would cover the missing work.”
“What? I couldn’t let you do that.”
“I insist. You do quality work, and I can’t let just anyone in here.”
“Well, if it would help you.”
“It would. I’ve been looking for a photographer for some time. Maybe it’s fate.”
It would be nice to share his collection with someone. To share his life with someone. Just for a little while.
Dragon Next Door: Forgotten Dragons Book 1 Page 4
