He stared at me for a moment. “Kind of.”
A thick rush of worry slashed through me. “At
night?” I said, pulling away from him and sat on the bed. He’d
jumped on my balcony without making noise a few minutes before, so
he could’ve come without me noticing.
He hesitated. “Only two times.”
“While I was sleeping?”
“No, it’s not what you’re thinking.” He
sighed and sat next to me. “The first time I came was the day after
the studio. I felt oddly…drawn to you. Your curtains were open and
I saw the stars glowing across your ceiling. Then you came out on
the balcony—you looked so beautiful—and for a moment I thought
you’d seen me.” I remembered the noise amid the dark wall of trees
that I’d assumed was a deer. “The second time was after Ski Apache.
I wanted to check if you’d come home okay, and while waiting there,
I realized…”
What? Something like, ‘What the hell am I
doing here?’
“That staying away from you wasn’t working as
planned. The emotions were growing more intense instead of
vanishing.” He brushed my hair behind my ear. “Then the foolish
idea of being friends occurred to me. I thought it might solve
things. Which of course didn’t happen.” He looked at me with a
bright, warm sparkle in his eyes. “It was smart of you not wanting
to be friends with me.” He stroked my cheek tenderly.
I stared, lost into his words. “But that day,
after the studio, you came to talk to me at school and all of a
sudden you were mad at me. I couldn’t understand why. Was it
because of Chloe?”
“Yes and no,” he dropped his eyes. “Chloe did
darken my mood a bit. But I was angry at me, not at you.”
“Why?
“Because I was interested in you, fascinated
in fact. And for a moment I dared to consider the possibility of
being with you, of breaking my oath. But when I went to talk to
you, something you said brought me back from my stupidity. You, not
Chloe.”
“Something I said?”
“You didn’t want to face death again.”
I frowned. “I was talking about the wolfdog—I
mean, Chloe. You wouldn’t hurt me.”
He looked up, the sparkle in his eyes frozen.
“No, of course I wouldn’t. But at that moment you made me think of
the foundations of the Covenant, of why it was there and—”
“What…are you saying you’re going to leave
me?” I snapped. I understood his concern and all the reasons behind
the Covenant. After reading all those bloody cases in the book, I
knew why humans felt the need to have it there. But my own
selfishness was the big winner here. I couldn’t let him go.
He laced his fingers with mine, holding them
tightly. “I'm not going to leave you,” he said, gazing deep down
into my eyes. “I’ve studied our situation, and I'm sure that if I
take the right precautions, we can be together. Even if it has to
be a secret. Chloe’s fear of dealing with the Tessitors is bigger
than her jealousy. So we don’t have to worry about that.”
I relaxed. “Are you sure?”
“I'm staying here,” he smiled. “On one
condition, though.”
“What?” I eyed him suspiciously.
“Get some sleep,” he said, cupping my face.
“You look pretty tired.”
Yeah, I was exhausted. Sadness had wiped out
my whole body, left splotchy skin under my eyes and a swollen nose.
My face looked beaten. But I wasn’t going to waste the time I had
with him. I was afraid of awakening and not seeing him next to me.
So I shook my head. “But you haven’t slept all night.”
“I can spend three nights in a row without
sleeping.”
Of course you can
. “But you, on the other hand…”
He stood up and went to plump my pillow.“…need to sleep.” He placed
it up against the white headboard and lay down next to it.
It took me a few seconds to take in the image
of Tristan lying in my bed, waiting for me to lie down beside him.
The butterflies in my stomach were wild with anticipation.
“Don’t make me come and get you,” he said
with a playful smile.
I moved across the bed and instead of placing
my head on the pillow, I chose his warm chest to rest. He wrapped
his arm around me and pulled me to him. I could have stayed like
that forever.
I smiled. “You know, since the first time I
saw you in the parking lot, laughing with Elan, I was hooked. Even
if I didn’t want to accept it.” I twirled my finger over the
muscles of his chest. “The sound of your voice was so entrancing…I
don’t know how to explain it, but something inside of me burst. I
felt this huge need to get close to you. Like you were calling me.
I didn’t understand why. Normally guys that are too good looking
don’t appeal to me much—and you are ridiculously good looking.”
He chuckled.
"What?"
“Kind of an overstatement, don't you think?”
he asked with a smile.
I lifted up my eyebrows. “Really? Tell that
to all the girls in high school, to all the girls that go and watch
you at the pool, and tell that to your lovely Gollum wannabe.”
He put his other hand to my chin and held it.
“You can come and swim with me whenever you want to.”
“Like I could keep up with you.”
“I’ll slow down.”
I snorted. “Your
slow
wouldn't be
enough. I’ll just sit there and watch you—and fend off all those
voyeurs.”
He cracked a soft laugh, and then, as if
remembering something, became serious. “What about that…Dean?” he
said a little annoyed. “Or all the rest of that stupid football
team? They all seem to be in line, waiting for their turn with you.
Maybe I should be the one pushing away fans.” He freed my chin.
I smirked, wrinkling my forehead. “Talk about
overstatements.” Then I remembered that flirt, Smith, and the two
Warriors that had approached me during my first day and acted
really sweet with me. I’d taken it as nothing more than being nice
to the new girl. But I’d always had trouble figuring out guys, so
it could be true.
“I wish it was an overstatement,” he said
soberly.
I had to swallow back a smile. He was
jealous. He was jealous over me. An abrupt sensation of victory ran
through my body.
He leaned my head against the hollow of his
neck and kissed my hair. I buried my face against his skin, the
warmth penetrating my pores, and his scent…pines and sunlight? It
was very good.
“I couldn’t stand the idea of your skin being
this close to someone else. That’s what made me come at once.” He
sighed with a small tremor. “I'm really selfish…”
I pressed my lips against his throat and he
shuddered. “I like your selfishness. I'm counting on it,” I
whispered against his skin, breathing in his intoxicating
scent.
Then our roles switched. He rolled on top of
me and tilted his head. He pressed his soft lips right beneath my
ear and brushed them all the way down to my throat, slowly, long
and sweet. His hot breath whispered over my skin and strange
vibrations rocked my entire body.
“Er…” I struggled with eyes closed, the blood
almost exploding in my veins. “I don’t…” What was I going to
say?
His warm lips continued to trace my neck,
exploring and going back again and again, as if he couldn’t get
enough of my skin beneath his lips. He stopped at my ear to
whisper, “Your skin tastes as good as your lips.”
Oh. Perhaps the idea of being tasteful to him
should’ve been hideous and gruesome, but it was the total opposite.
“Like what?” I asked dreamily.
He pulled back, his eyes burning me. “Like
the finest chocolate. The taste melts in my mouth.”
Then I was like dessert. Not bad. “And…being
a chocolate, is it good or bad?”
He narrowed his eyes, contemplative.
“Chocolate is a powerful aphrodisiac, so in my case, you tasting
this good isn’t that convenient.” He slid his finger over my collar
bone. “But since today, I'm on a candy diet, so there won't be any
problems.”
“Willpower wavers sometimes.”
“Not when the candy is so good—and
dangerous.”
I stared at him, looking at his soft, ripe
lips. I really wanted to kiss him, but doing it in bed was against
all rules, Shifter world or human world.
As if reading my thoughts, he smiled and
eased back to lie on the bed. He pulled my head close to his
shoulder and wrapped his arm around me. “You should sleep,
princess,” he said with his honeyed voice.
“Promise me you'll sleep a bit,” I told him,
resting my palm on his chest.
He leaned his head over mine and whispered,
“I’ll try.” He slid his hand up and down my spine, brushing lovely
caresses on my back.
I closed my eyes and cuddled closer against
him, hoping the dream wouldn’t come to an end.
A cold, gentle breeze ruffled the sheet
beside my leg. It would’ve made me shiver, but my feet were twisted
around Tristan’s, wringing the soothing warmth out of his skin.
Would the dream never end? Was he truly here next to me, holding me
tightly against him?
Tristan’s chest moved slowly beneath my face,
rising and falling as softly as a baby. I opened my eyes and turned
my head to watch him. He looked like an angel resting peacefully in
a cloud. He’d listened to me after all and fallen asleep. I
smiled.
I touched his face, tracing his strong
jawline with my fingertip. I could’ve studied his features for
hours and never gotten bored. He was breathtaking, perfect. But
more than his striking beauty, it was the reflection of his soul,
of the aura that surrounded him that made him so unique.
How many gorgeous guys had I seen but still
hadn’t been really…attracted to? There were a lot of swoon-worthy
people in the world, but more often than not, their beauty was only
skin-deep. It lacked that unique essence that could transform
itself into a powerful emotion.
Beauty is more than a pretty
face. It’s the nature of someone’s soul
. And Tristan had them
both.
I noticed the light in the room was dimmer.
The prismatic rainbows faded. I turned slowly, trying to not wake
him up, and saw the clock in the desk. I’d slept more than five
hours. I slid out of bed and shut gently the balcony doors. I was
about to draw the curtains together when two warm hands glided
around my waist from behind.
“Already awake, princess?” he whispered,
brushing back my hair to press a kiss below my ear.
I released the curtains. “I thought you were
asleep.”
He pressed his face beside mine. “The touch
of an angel awoke me.”
I smiled.
He tightened his arms around me. “If somebody
would ask me my definition of heaven, this would certainly be
it.”
I turned inside his embrace to gaze at him,
the orange beam of the twilight sky warming his exquisite
features.
He grinned and, without giving me time to
blink, bent down and scooped me up into his arms.
“Why are you carrying me?”
“I like to have you in my arms,” he said with
a smile in his eyes.
Ah, this is too good
. “Okay…but are
you taking me somewhere?”
“Your stomach is pleading.” Not the answer I
was expecting.
A deep growl suddenly reverberated from my
belly. “Oh," I said, looking down at my grumpy stomach.
He smiled and took me downstairs. The
birthday banner was still hanging on the wall. The flowers and
balloons saluting from the middle of the table—everything keeping
its post in a remembrance that seemed so far away now.
He let me down and asked, “What would you
like to eat?”
“It’s not what I would like to eat but what
is left to eat,” I said, walking toward the fridge. “I can’t afford
that luxury. I don’t cook.” I took out the cake. I knew I should’ve
started with the ravioli from yesterday first, but I was really
hungry and heating it required too much time. “I can’t even do
basic stuff like boiling eggs. Seriously.”
He cracked a laugh and stepped beside me.
“Actually, I was offering to cook something for you.”
“You can cook?” I asked, amazed, taking a
large piece of cake into my mouth.
A guy that cooks
. He was
definitely my perfect match in every sense.
“Of course, the French culinary art runs in
my blood.” He slid his finger into the whipped cream to taste it.
The way his lips encircled his fingertip sent tingling waves to my
stomach. “It’s very good by the way,” he added, looking down at me
mischievously.
I gulped. “I know, my dad did it.”
He put his finger once more into the whipped
cream and gently smashed a tad of fluffy white on the tip of my
nose. He leaned forward and pressed his mouth to it. “Delicious,”
he murmured, licking any trace of white left on his lips.
I envied the whipped cream so much.
“Do you want something to eat?” I realized he
probably hadn’t eaten for several hours. Guys couldn’t go too long
without food in their system. Specially the one who was looking at
me with blazing eyes right now.
“Yes, but something I shouldn’t,” he said in
a playful voice and pulled me toward him by the waist.
A sizzling shiver stole through me. “You
wouldn’t dare,” I told him with narrowed eyes, struggling not to
grin.
A sly smile quirked up the side of his mouth.
“No, I wouldn’t. Even if you are”—he dropped his head to my neck
and started nuzzling my throat—“a big temptation. I do have a
weakness for sweets.” He placed his hand behind my back, which was
now slightly arched.
I lost my appetite. My mind zeroed into the
touch of his breath against my neck. “Isn’t that a problem with
your candy-free diet?” I asked dizzily.
The tip of his nose nuzzled my ear now, a
soft, soft, whispery caress. “Since today I’ve decided I'm
diabetic,” he breathed, sending goose bumps all over my arms.
“So…no, there’s no problem at all.” He pulled up his nose to my
forehead and pressed his lips against it.
Was it normal to hate his imposed diabetes?
“Then if I'm forbidden…aren’t you going to cook something for
us?”