Tristan sits on the end of my bed and waits for me to come back out of the bathroom, this time with clothes on. I comb my fingers through my hair while he sits there, watching me without a word. I’m not sure why he’s here, but it’s clear that he has no plans to leave yet.
I walk around the small room in quick, unmeasured strides, tidying things here and there.
“You’re pacing,” Tristan comments in a calm voice.
I ignore him, busying myself in case that might keep me from having to talk to the fae leader still sitting on my bed. I guess I should be grateful he let Allison leave, especially after she snapped at him, clearly defying his position—and fae law.
Tristan catches my wrist as I pass by him and holds it in a gentle grip, stopping me from whizzing around. “Aurora, come sit for a minute, please. You’re making me dizzy.”
I peer down at his fingers wrapped around my wrist, where my pulse is humming with the energy of being so close to him. “She’s not going to stop seeing him, no matter what you say. She could get hurt, and there’s not a damn thing I can do.”
Tristan lets go of my wrist and slips his fingers through mine. “This isn’t your fight, and she’s not your responsibility.”
I sit beside him. “She’s my best friend. You guys are going to war, and I have no idea what’s going to happen. It seems like she’s not even concerned about the consequences of her relationship. Why would she risk that for one person?”
“You’d be surprised what some people would do for one person.”
I sigh. “Are you really going to throw her in prison?”
He turns toward me and our eyes meet. “Are you asking me to let her break one of our laws?” He regards me with a thoughtful expression. “I can’t do that, Aurora. I’m sorry.”
I nod, understanding he’s looking at the bigger picture. He has the responsibility to take care of his people, and until proven otherwise, Evan is a threat.
Thrusting my fingers through my still-damp hair, I blow out a breath. “You haven’t told me why you’re here.”
He wets his lips. “I’ve been looking into your family history.”
“As most stalkers do,” I quip, trying to lighten the mood in hopes that will ease the tendrils of anxiety wrapping around me.
His eyes glimmer. “You wanted more information, so I did some research.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. “You’re saying you did this for me?”
“Yes, and because of my own interest in the matter.”
“Okay.” I glance at the floor, wiggling my toes. “What did you find?” I’m terrified to hear the answer. It seems crazy to think that I have fae ancestors, but after the way Tristan’s blood affected me, it’s hard to deny my family’s past.
“I’m not sure what you’re hoping to hear. I don’t want to disappoint you.”
My stomach drops. “Tell me, Tristan. Please.”
He nods. “Your father’s fae ancestor had her daughter’s magic deactivated, which is why it didn’t continue down the bloodline.”
I frown, confusion coursing through me. “You said I’d been touched by fae magic, but it was dormant.”
“You’re right. Because the fae whose magic was repressed was female, it only affects females in the Marshall bloodline, and you’re the first since that fae.”
I scratch the back of my neck. “So I’m fae, but not?”
He shakes his head. “You are one hundred percent human, Aurora.”
“Because some old witch or something took my family’s magic?”
His brows draw closer. “That’s right.”
I wet my lips. “Okay. Are any of them . . . ?”
“There’s no one left in your bloodline. They were lost when our world was destroyed.”
My chest aches. “You’re sure?”
“Yes. I would know if they were still alive, especially after meeting you and sensing their dormant magic.”
“If you could sense it, what was to stop any other fae from doing the same? Were they not concerned about that when they screwed with magic?”
He shakes his head. “I wish I had more answers for you.”
The darkness under his eyes and his tired expression makes me think he’d been hoping for more, too. If I have no fae ancestors left, there’s little chance at getting the dark fae to accept me—for my lineage to protect me from those who are against my knowledge of the fae, and the freedom Tristan granted me even though he couldn’t wipe my memories.
I bite the inside of my cheek. “At least now I know.” I meet his gaze. “Thank you for looking into it for me.”
The weather shifts as the daylight hours become shorter, and midterms pass in a whirlwind of studying and hand cramps from writing so much. I’m so sick of lectures and note-taking that my Friday afternoon at the office with Skylar is a reprieve from the chaos. We’ve been working nonstop for hours and have made progress on the charity gala.
Skylar goes to have the financial guy approve some things, leaving me to put the finishing touches on the menu to fax to the caterer.
I glance up from my laptop when Max pops his head into the office.
“Come on, blondie.”
“Come on where?”
“It’s almost ten o’clock.” He takes a step forward and leans in the doorway. “You were done for the day hours ago.”
“Okay . . .”
“We’re going out. Grab your shit, and let’s go.”
“You want me to go out with you?” I arch a brow. “Did Skylar spike your coffee?”
He offers a little fake laugh and shoots me a pointed look. “No, but she told me to invite you, so I am. Plus, it’ll make Oliver feel more comfortable.”
I bark out a laugh. “Wait. You mean my Oliver?”
He rolls his eyes. “Uh, sure.”
“Did Skylar invite him? She better not be screwing with him to get to me.”
Max crosses his arms and sighs so softly I almost don’t catch it. “Skylar didn’t invite him. I did.”
I stare at him for a few beats. “Oh,” I say. “I didn’t know you were—”
“Gay?” he cuts in with a slight smirk.
“Into humans,” I say.
He shrugs. “Just because I don’t like you most of the time doesn’t mean I don’t like humans. You don’t represent them all, blondie.”
I flip him off. “How do you know him?”
“He was fake-dating your fae bestie, and I met him on campus while I was looking into something for a friend.”
My brows shoot up. The urge to make a joke about Max actually having friends is on the tip of my tongue, but instead, I say, “I know it’s not against the rules to be with a human, but I’m still surprised.” Oliver and Max? I try to picture it, but I can’t.
He laughs, and I’m pretty sure it’s the first time I’ve ever heard something so genuine come out of his mouth. “Exactly. There are rules to protect us from being exposed, but none that explicitly say ‘don’t fuck the humans,’ so I think I’m safe.”
I press my lips together against a smile. “All right. So you’re saying Oliver doesn’t know about the fae?”
He nods. “And I plan to keep it that way.”
“Good,” I concede. “Does Tristan know about you and him?”
“He does.”
“Okay,” I murmur. “Where are we going then?”
He grins, another thing that shocks me. “Grab your things. The car is waiting out front.”
I close my computer. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
Max rolls his eyes. “Relax, blondie. We’re going to a bar, not skydiving.” He backs out of the office, and I stare at the empty doorway.
Sitting around a small, round bar table with Max and Skylar isn’t something I ever thought I would be doing, and yet, here I am, sipping on my virgin margarita. With work scheduled in the morning, I figured I’d better play it safe. Max and Skylar don’t seem to care.
The music is loud, but not so loud that we can’t hear each other speak. Not that any of us say much. The large room is lit with dim track lighting and spotlights from the stage at the front.
Skylar glances at her nails and frowns. “This is boring.”
Max takes a long swig of his beer and rolls his eyes. “You’re just cranky. Finish your drink, and you’ll feel better.”
She glares at him but doesn’t disagree.
Oliver chooses that moment to arrive, which puts Max in a better mood. The way his whole face changes the moment Oliver gets here is incredible. It’s something I’ve never seen before. It’s nice. It makes him seem more human.
“Are you ready?” Max asks, turning to me.
I arch a brow. “Ready? For what?”
Skylar presses her lips together against a smile. “You didn’t tell her?”
Oliver throws his arm around my shoulders and gives me a half hug, laughing.
Max shrugs, still looking at me. “It’s karaoke night.” He tilts his chin in the general direction of the stage. “Tristan mentioned you were a singer. Thought we should see for ourselves.”
“Aurora can sing,” Oliver assures him.
Glancing between Max and Oliver, I say, “I’ll sing, but only if Skylar goes first.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “I’m not going up there.”
“Come on,” I say. “I’m sure you’re great. If you get up there, I’ll buy your next round.”
“Fine. Whatever.” She downs the rest of her drink as an employee finishes getting the microphone ready. She gives him a song, and he nods, looking a bit starstruck as he walks away. She leans over the stage to where the bar is and grabs another beer. Max and I exchange amused glances when she walks back and taps on the mic.
“I’m doing this for the free drink. My coworkers are assholes.” She lifts her beer in the air. “Cheers.”
When the song ends, the entire room roars with whistles and claps. She smirks, tosses her hair back, and hops off the stage, coming back to our table.
She waves the bartender over, and he brings her another drink. “You’re up, Aurora,” she says, grinning like a cat.
I chew on my bottom lip, take another sip of my drink, and then head for the stage. When the music guy looks over at me, I lean away from the mic and pick a song before clearing my throat. Tapping my hand against my thigh to catch the beat, I start singing when the music comes on. My voice echoes through the room, getting louder as I go into the chorus, and the audience claps along. My eyes shut, and the lyrics flow through me. I grip the mic with both hands and sway with the music.
When I open my eyes, I almost stumble going into the last chorus. My eyes lock with Tristan’s where he stands with Max, Skylar, and Oliver. When the hell did he get here? Why the hell is he here?
The song ends, and the room gives me the same send-off as Skylar, hooting and hollering. I walk toward the stairs and trip over a cable on the stage. I’m heading for the floor—I’m going to fall right off the damn stage—but then Tristan’s arms are there catching me. He hauls me up against him with an amused glint in his eyes.
“Shut up,” I mutter.
“I think the words you’re looking for are ‘thank you,’” he murmurs.
“Not likely.”
“You’re feisty tonight.” His arm tightens around my waist, and parts of me like that way too much. “I was surprised to hear you left the office with Sky and Max.” His lips brush my ear when he speaks, making my skin tingle.
We shift to the side of the room as another person takes the stage to give karaoke a go, the crowd giving this guy the same attention Skylar and I received.
“They kidnapped me,” I mumble. “That seems to happen a lot around you guys.”
His breath tickles my skin when he chuckles. “That’s because we like you,” he says in a low voice. “Let me get you out of here.” The idea that he’s offering to save me from Max and Skylar makes me smile.
“I can’t,” I say. “Skylar wants me to work in the morning. We still have a lot to do for the gala.”
“You’re going to spend time with Skylar on a weekend?” The glint in his eyes makes it look as if he almost doesn’t believe me. Playful Tristan makes me giddy as a freaking teenager. Seeing him outside of the office, away from the constant fae issues he’s forced to deal with, it’s nice. Normal. Part of me is attracted to the mystery of him, but I find myself craving moments like these where I can look at him without seeing the leader of the dark fae and just see Tristan.
“I am.”
“Stay at the hotel. You’ll be an elevator ride away from the office in the morning.” He squeezes my hip, making my breath catch.
“If I say yes . . .” My voice trails off. I don’t know what to say next.
“Say yes,” he whispers.
Part of me is nervous, but another part feels I owe it to myself—the constant thoughts of Tristan, the way my body responds to him—to explore what this might be. My cheek grazes his chest as I tilt my head up to meet his gaze. “Okay,” I say.
He slips his arm from around my waist and grabs my hand, lacing his fingers through mine as we approach the table.
“You done feeling her up?” Skylar quips.
Tristan smirks at me. “Not nearly.”
“I’m going to head out,” I cut in. “Tonight was . . . fun.” I pull out enough money to cover the drinks.
“Damn, blondie, you’re packing the cash. We have to bring you out more often.” Ha. I wish I were ‘packing the cash.’ I’d gotten lucky when my parents sent me some money for food, most of which I just spent on booze I didn’t drink.
I laugh, giving Oliver a quick hug. “Goodnight, guys.”
“You better be in the office by nine tomorrow morning,” Skylar grumbles.
I mock salute her. “Yes, ma’am.”
Tristan leads me away from the table. Once we’re outside, I pull away, needing room to breathe for a minute.
“Rory.” His nickname for me sounds so smooth rolling off his tongue. “You need to relax. I can feel your anxiety. It’s pouring off of you in waves.”
Spinning around to face him, I cross my arms over my chest so he can’t reach for my hands. “This isn’t a good idea.” I glance around the street to make sure we’re alone.
He tilts his head, regarding me with a thoughtful expression. His eyes alone make me want to give in. “You’re in control here. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to,” he says.
My jaw clenches as my eyes flicker across his face. “You want me?” I whisper.
Taking a step toward me, he dips his face closer. “For some time now,” he says as if he has no qualms about admitting it. “You have a fire in you. It’s something I admire. While you tend to put yourself in unnecessary danger, sticking your nose into fae business as of late, your perspective on certain things is refreshing, to say the least.”
My mind races. “I don’t think . . . we can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m terrified!” The words fall out before I can clamp my mouth shut. “I don’t feel like I’m in control when I’m around you.” It’s not something I ever wanted to admit. This moment feels different, as if it’s setting us on a new path.
He laughs. “You don’t think I feel the same? You challenge my every word. You go against everything I know.”
“You don’t know enough about me,” I say as if that might have the power to deter him while part of me hopes it won’t.
“You’re providing a weak argument.” His dark-eyed look sets my body ablaze. “I can hear your heart,” he murmurs.
“Good to know I’m still breathing,” I mutter. Sarcasm, my automatic defense against anxiety.
When he chuckles, a wicked shiver runs through me, and my mind goes places I wish I could say it hasn’t before.
“There’s that fire I told you about.”
I uncross my arms and let them fall to my sides. “Can we not talk about this anymore?”
“Why? Because you know I’m right about what’s going on between us?”
I shake my head.
“You’re afraid because you can’t control how you feel.”
My eyes narrow. “You’re talking like this isn’t affecting you.”
“I’m not the one fighting it,” he says.
“Don’t you wonder why I am? This isn’t—I can’t see any way for this to work out well. I don’t understand why I feel whatever this is for you because I know I shouldn’t. You would think that might deter me, that I might be able to walk away from this because of everything that’s happened.” My heart races while my chest rises and falls in quick successions.
“But you can’t,” he says.
“Shut up,” I snap, breathless, grabbing his face in my hands. “Just . . . shut up.” My lips collide with his in the same moment his hands drop to my hips and pull me closer. Eyes closed, I deepen the kiss, sliding my fingers into his hair, tugging at the ends. He growls, gripping my hips tighter as his mouth devours mine. My lips part in a moan, and his tongue slides in, brushing against mine and flicking across the roof of my mouth. My pulse pounds in my ears. My breasts tingle. Pressed flush against his body, a delicious warmth spreads through me, and the world fades away.
I spend the ride to the hotel in a daze. All I can think about is how everything feels so right after I’ve spent weeks trying to convince myself it’s wrong.
It’s silent between us from the time we get into the car until we reach the penthouse. I glance around the place. The simple, sleek, and modern elegance of it catches me off guard every time, even though I’ve been here before.
Tristan steps into my line of sight with dark eyes and a wicked curve on his lips. “What are you thinking about?”
I press my lips together, trying to form an answer. “A lot, to be honest.”
“Can I help with that?” he purrs, slipping his arms around me, pulling me toward him.
A smile curls my lips, and I lean into him, sliding my arms around his neck. “This is weird to me,” I say.
“What’s that? Me touching you?”
I laugh. “Me letting you touch me.”
“Any time you want me to stop, you say the word.”
“Okay,” I whisper, but I don’t want him to. In fact, I’ll be disappointed if he does.
“Do you trust me?” he asks, his eyes locked with mine.
I swallow, trying to alleviate the dryness in my throat. “I trust you,” I answer, and I mean it. Had he asked me that a month ago, I would’ve laughed in his face, but now? Things are different between us, so yeah, I do trust him.
“Good,” he says, and then his lips are on my skin, trailing up my neck. Kissing. Licking. Sucking.
I hold onto him, sighing softly, which encourages him. He kisses my jaw, my temple, and the corner of my mouth before his lips close over mine. I gasp into his mouth when his lower half presses against me, my mind swimming in a pleasant haze. My eyes close and my hips press into him, making him groan against my lips.
I jump when his phone goes off in his pocket, and we break apart. He pulls it out with a growl and swears. “I have to take this,” he says. He swipes at the screen and barks into the phone. “What is it?”
There are several beats of silence, and then, “God dammit. I’ll be right there.” He shoves the phone back in his pocket. “I’m needed downstairs.”
“What’s going on?” I ask.
He thrusts a hand through his hair. “A group of light fae attacked Skylar after Max left with your friend.”
Jules is attacking fae who mean something to Tristan, striking closer to home.
My eyes widen. “Is she . . . ?”
“She’s alive. Barely.”
“I’m so sorry, Tristan.”
He nods, his posture stiff. “Stay here. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
I stop him before he can turn away. “Be careful,” I say in a firm voice and lean up to kiss him. He returns the kiss chastely, and he’s gone.