Twisted Fate

by Jessi Elliott

  “What . . . ?” I stop. My head is spinning so fast I have to squeeze my eyes shut, or I’m going to throw up.

  Tristan shifts closer and lays his hand across my forehead. The dizziness recedes enough for me to open my eyes again and look at him. He brushes the hair away from my face and assesses my appearance.

  “Am I dreaming? How did I get here?” I ask, trying to figure it out in my head. There’s a chunk of time missing, but I can’t fill in the blanks.

  His jaw clenches, and I wish I hadn’t asked. “You don’t remember?” he murmurs, his eyes on me. “This isn’t a dream, Rory. Evan brought you back to us a few hours ago.”

  I shake my head, confused and unsure whether I’m able to speak anymore.

  “You know Grant Taylor, yes?” he checks, his voice clipped.

  My throat goes dry, and I force another nod. “Is he okay?” I ask in a small voice. Grant and I aren’t all that close, but since I met him in class last semester, he’s been a good friend.

  His eyes darken. “I imagine you didn’t know that he’s fae. Or that Grant isn’t his real name. It’s Jules.”

  My eyes widen, and no words come out when I open my mouth.

  “I didn’t think so,” he says. “It would seem that he has been—” Tristan stops, clenching his fists in his lap. It’s like the night I was poisoned all over again. I can feel the anger rumbling through him like dark, violent waves, and I immediately want to make it stop.

  My hand is shaking, but I reach over and place it over his fist. “Tristan,” I whisper.

  He sighs heavily and looks at me. “The bastard has been feeding off of you.”

  I play that sentence over in my head, and then I lean over the side of the bed and hurl.

  When my stomach calms down, housekeeping comes to clean up the mess, and Tristan and I sit in his living room. The fireplace casts dim light on the room, reflecting off the prints of the hotel on his walls.

  “This whole time . . .” I trail off. “I’ve been friends with him since before I met you. I’ve spent time with him all semester, and I didn’t know he was the leader of the light fae, that he was your enemy.”

  “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, putting his arm around my shoulders.

  I lean against him and try to take a few deep breaths. “I think it’s coming back, Tris,” I whisper, squeezing my eyes shut as images of me attacking Evan and memories of Jules feeding of off me play over in my head like a twisted movie.

  “Shh,” he soothes. “Listen to me, sweetheart. Listen to my voice. You’re okay. Keep breathing.” He runs his hand up and down my arm, trying to help me through the montage from hell.

  The pictures stop, and all I want to do is kill Jules for what he did to me. Some things are still blurry, like how I got here. I remember being in the back of a car and someone carrying me into the back entrance of the hotel. I don’t understand why Evan brought me back.

  “It’s all right, Rory,” Tristan says, grazing my cheek with the back of his hand. “You’re safe now. We’ll figure this out, and then I’ll deal with that bastard. You need to rest and recharge.” He lifts my chin until our eyes meet. “I gave you my blood so that you’d be up to par faster, but you should eat something.”

  My stomach churns, and bile rises in my throat at the idea of trying to put food in my body. “I’m not sure I can.”

  “You can,” he insists. “You’ll get through it, I promise you.”

  I don’t say anything else, but after a moment, I nod.

  I find it difficult to remember what my life was like before the fae. When I think about Jules’s offer to give me that life back, I know I could never take it. I can’t give this life up. I can’t give Tristan up. I won’t.

  All I can do is hope he feels the same about me.

  I spend the following days staying at the Westbrook Hotel, sleeping in Tristan’s bed at night, and working in the office when I’m not in class or studying. He’s calling it an internship now that I’ve finished my placement. I’m glad most of the employees don’t seem to have any issues with me hanging around.

  I’ve come to enjoy working with Skylar, even if she does still boss me around. I think we’ve both decided to pretend that night she helped me in the shower after Adam died didn’t happen, and I’m grateful for it.

  Max is still a total asshole, but I accept that as his nature now. I’ve tagged along with him and Oliver at lunch a couple of times since the two of them became an item. It’s taken a while, but I can look at Max and see someone separate from the fae who kidnapped and almost killed me all those months ago. Oliver doesn’t know any of this, or anything about the fae, and I’m glad Max plans to keep it that way.

  It’s been three days since I was returned from Jules’s clutches, and we have yet to hear from him. No epic battle has broken out; no more dark fae have been killed. Nothing has happened. I think we’re all going a bit crazy waiting for something. I’ve tried to think about the time I spent with him, as hard as that is, to remember exactly what happened, but I haven’t come up with anything.

  In the office boardroom, I glance up from the stack of papers on the table in front of me when the door flies open, and Allison charges in with determination in her eyes.

  “We have a problem,” she says, setting her hands on her hips. Allison has been spending time at the hotel since she ended things with Evan over his involvement when Jules kept me captive. I think him helping me escape was his way of trying to make things right, but Allison didn’t care. I don’t blame her, but I’m also sorry she got hurt. She didn’t deserve that.

  “Is it a dire emergency? I’m swamped with paperwork right now, but we can get drinks later and chat.”

  She shrugs. “That’s the thing. I don’t know.”

  I frown, flipping through some of the papers, and pull out the one I’m looking for. “This problem. Is it human or fae?”

  She curls her fingers around the belt loops on her washed-out jeans. “Fae.”

  Before Allison can answer, Tristan walks through the other door from his office and flicks a glance between us. He smiles. “Ladies.”

  “Perfect,” I say, jerking my thumb toward where he stands. “Allison, I’m sure he’d love to help with this problem, as he is the beloved leader of your kind.” I drop my eyes back to the marketing report I was reading and uncap my pen to make some notes. “We can talk about this later, I promise, but until then,” I point at Tristan again without looking up, “fae leader,” I say, then point back at Allison, “fae problem.”

  She sighs. “Okay, but I’m holding you to that drink. I think we could both use it.”

  Tristan chuckles. “Why don’t we step into my office?” he suggests, and the two of them walk through the door, closing it behind them.

  I’m still buried in paperwork when they come out almost an hour later. Allison says a quick goodbye before she leaves, and I offer her a wave.

  Tristan approaches and perches on the table next to me. He watches while I work, and I can only ignore his presence for so long.

  “What’s with the lurking?”

  “Am I distracting?” he inquires in an amused tone.

  The crispness of his cologne tickles my nose. I want to envelop myself in that fresh scent like a soft, comforting blanket of Tristan. I knock the thought out of my head and say, “You’re blocking my light.”

  “My apologies,” he purrs, leaning down so his lips are in line with my ear. “You’ve been sitting here for hours.” He shifts so he can place his hands on my shoulders, and massages them slowly. “You look like you could use a break.” His breath is warm against my lips as his eyes search mine.

  I swallow, my chest rising and falling fast. “Tris,” I mumble.

  His mouth curls into a wicked smirk, my only warning before he drops his hands, gripping my hips to pull me up, and lifts me onto the table. I suck in a sharp breath, and my eyes land on his. He dips his face close to mine and presses his lips against my jaw, trailing his mouth along the le
ngth. He sucks my earlobe into his mouth, and I gasp, pressing my lips together to muffle a moan as my eyes drift shut.

  I grab his waist to steady myself and lean into him as he ravishes me with his mouth against my skin. Goosebumps rise on my arms as he takes his time exploring each inch of bare skin, bringing heat to my cheeks knowing someone could walk in at any moment.

  We should stop.

  Oh god, I don’t want to stop.

  He pauses briefly before his lips collide with mine, and my belly gives a happy flip as I move with him. He groans, and we fight for control, always pressing closer.

  I wrap my legs around him, and he responds with a growl and teases my lips with his tongue. They part, and his tongue grazes against mine, sending a pleasant warmth deep into my belly. I grip the material of his suit jacket as our tongues dance, and he gives my hips a gentle squeeze before dragging his hands up my sides. One hand dives into my hair, holding the back of my neck while he kisses me slow and soft, and my body jerks forward when his other hand skims my breast over my shirt. His lips curl against mine as his thumb deliberately brushes over it again. I gasp, but the sound is muffled by his insistent mouth.

  Breaking away before I’m even close to wanting it to end, I succumb to the need for air. I rest my forehead against his chest, and he slides his hand out of my hair to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing across my skin. I lean back and meet his deep blue gaze, unable to help the grin that touches my slightly swollen lips as I push my fingers through the mess of soft blond hair hanging across his forehead.

  “I’m never going to get this paperwork done,” I mutter as I catch my breath.

  “Keep talking about work, and I’m going to take you to my room and give you something else to do with that mouth,” he warns, making the warmth in my belly spread lower.

  I arch a brow, pressing my thighs together as if that’ll relieve the pulsing between them. “I might believe you if I didn’t know you have a meeting tonight,” I say with a sweet smile.

  His eyes narrow. “You think I won’t cancel that to be inside you?”

  My heart wants the world to know how that makes my blood warm. “Do it,” I say in a defiant tone.

  He smirks. “You’re adorable when you’re feisty.”

  I scowl, but it’s halfhearted. “You think I’m not serious?”

  “Oh, I know you are.” The hand holding my hip slides down and grazes my thigh. I watch his fingers move lower before he tips my head back up. “You’re never one to miss out on a challenge.”

  I sigh. “For someone who was complaining about me talking, you’re sure slow to shut up.”

  He raises a brow. “Clever.”

  I nudge him back far enough so I can slide off the table and straighten my shirt. “If you’re not going to follow through with your threats, you shouldn’t make them,” I mumble as I reach for my notes to get back to work.

  Tristan grabs my wrist and pulls me back against him. His lips are quick to find my neck, and his teeth graze my skin, sending shivers down my spine. “Upstairs,” he breathes.

  I manage to nod before he shifts, transporting us from the boardroom to the master bedroom of his penthouse. I lean up on my tiptoes and brush my lips over his bottom one. His arms come around me, sweeping me off my feet as his mouth closes over mine. He presses me back against the closed door and nips my lower lip, making me suck in a breath. He chuckles as I wrap my legs around his waist. I bury my fingers in his hair, tugging at the ends as my lips move against his. Our mouths are frantic, losing coordination in our desperation for more.

  His lips leave mine for a second, and I drag air into my lungs while he trails his mouth along my jaw, kissing and nipping gently. His hands grip my hips, his thumbs moving in slow, sensual circles.

  “Aurora,” he breathes.

  “Kiss me,” I demand.

  “This isn’t the slow pace you mentioned before.”

  I lean back enough to look at him. “I don’t want slow,” I say. “I want you.”

  The hue of his eyes darkens into a look so filled with desire, heat floods through me. My entire body is tingling with a wicked sensation, a need to be touched.

  “You’re saying—?”

  “I’m saying kiss me, Tristan.”

  I don’t have to ask again. His lips are on mine in an instant, pulling soft whimpers and moans from me with ease. He spins us around and walks across the room, setting me on my feet when we reach the side of his bed. My heart surges forward, and my eyes snap to his.

  “Are you sure?”

  I nod, reaching for him.

  He catches my hand and presses it flat against his chest, over his heart. I can feel it pounding against my palm. “I need to hear you say it, sweetheart.”

  A smile touches my lips. I lift my free hand to his face and cup his cheek. “I want you, Tristan Westbrook, so much it terrifies me. I want you so badly it hurts.”

  His eyes go wide. “You can’t possibly understand how long I’ve waited for this moment.”

  My breath catches. “Then stop talking and kiss me.”

  He slides his hand up my neck, cradling my head as his lips seal over mine. He lays me on his bed and leans over me, planting short, soft kisses along my jaw, down the side of my neck, across my collarbone. My skin heats at his touch, pulsing between my legs each time his lips brush across a new part of me.

  He lifts his shirt over his head, dropping it on the floor before reaching for the buttons on my blouse. “I need to know you’ll tell me to stop if this gets to be too much,” he says.

  “I will,” I assure him.

  He undoes each button with care until he can push it off my shoulders, then tosses it on the floor with his shirt. He dips his head and licks along the top swell of my breasts, making me gasp. I grip the waistband of his pants, tugging on his belt until I can get it to unbuckle. He steals my hands and pins them above my head with one hand, using the other to unclasp my strapless bra. It falls away, leaving my upper half bare and bringing a new heat to my cheeks.

  His eyes catch mine as he releases my wrists, and he smiles. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs and brings his lips back to mine in a sweet, slow kiss. He drops his mouth to my chest and kisses around my breast, flicking his tongue across it, hardening the nipple before he sucks it into his mouth. I groan as he circles his tongue around it while tweaking the other with his fingers. I arch my back, and he answers by switching sides and delivering the ministrations all over again. The heat between my thighs pulses with need, and almost as though he senses it, he presses his knee higher, and my hips jerk in response.

  He trails his lips the length of my stomach until they reach the edge of my pants. His eyes flick to mine, and I nod. He smirks and pulls them past my knees. I kick them the rest of the way off, and Tristan helps me slide back further so my head rests against the pillows. He hovers over me, kissing each of my cheeks, my forehead, my nose, before his lips return to mine. His hand presses against my stomach and slides lower. My hips buck when his fingers brush over my panties, making me gasp against his lips.

  “You like that?” he murmurs.

  “Yes,” I breathe.

  My head spins when he slips his hand into my panties, and I grip the black silk sheets on either side of me as he slides a finger inside. His thumb circles my bundle of nerves while his finger thrusts in and out, making me writhe against the sheets.

  He takes his time stroking me, stealing my moans as his lips move against mine in a feverish kiss.

  Shifting his body, he trails his lips down my neck and across my collarbone. My pulse kicks up when I realize where his mouth is heading. His free hand slides down my side as he moves his lips lower to my stomach while his fingers still move slowly inside of me, eliciting small, soft moans from me. He kisses just below my navel, then lifts his eyes to mine. The sight of him before me almost does me in, and when a smirk touches his lips, my heart races.

  He pulls my panties off and tosses them behind him, then lifts my leg o
ver his shoulder, and raises a brow at me. An invitation.

  I take the cue, and lift my other leg. He lowers his gaze to my core, his dark lashes fanning his cheeks. His fingers slow and slide out, making me sigh, but before I can protest, his tongue replaces them. I press my lips together so I don’t make a sound, and my eyes shut on their own accord as he flicks it against my bundle of nerves.

  I let out a breath that sounds more like a moan and bite back a string of expletives when he pushes his tongue inside. Holy shit. Doing this has never felt this amazing before. You’ve also never had Tristan Westbrook between your thighs. If I’d known it would feel like this, I don’t think I’d have been able to hold off this long before admitting what I felt for him.

  “Tristan,” I murmur his name, my hips jerking off the bed. He chuckles, shooting vibrations straight to my core, and holds me against the mattress with his hands. My fingers grip his hair, holding him there while he pulls more moans from me, making my head spin and setting my body on fire.

  My breath comes in short, quick gasps, my heart pounding in my chest as my hips grind against him even as he holds them down. He flicks his tongue over me once more, thrusting in deep, and I explode, crying out my release.

  He presses a kiss to my stomach and gets off the bed, giving me a minute to catch my breath while he steps out of his pants and boxers. My mouth drops open, in awe of him.

  Sliding his hands up my thighs, he crawls over me and reaches into the nightstand, pulling out a condom. He tears it open and rolls it on with ease, kissing the corner of my mouth. He tilts my chin up until our eyes meet. “You’re still sure?”

  “Yes,” I say, running my fingers through his hair.

  His leg nudges mine apart as he settles between my thighs. His lips find mine as he leans forward, and I feel him against me. He dips inside of me, and I wince at the discomfort, squeezing my eyes shut. I may not be a virgin, but it’s been a while.