A Demon's Promise, page 18
part #1 of Soul Savers Series
We’d just bought drinks, and the man behind us argued with the clerk about why his credit card didn’t work at the pump. He carried on about how he needed to get to Miami to see his kids for Christmas. Tristan tucked something into my hand, nodded at the man, and strode out of the store. I looked at the folded one-hundred-dollar bill in my hand, smiled, and stepped over to the man at the counter.
“Here, go see your kids,” I whispered. I pressed the bill into his palm and hurried out the door before he could stop me.
And nearly collided into a tiny woman with severely creased skin, a raised mole on her chin with several strands of hair sticking out of it, and half of her teeth, bared as she smiled at me. At least, I thought it was a smile. But she didn’t look up at me—she gazed intently at my necklace.
“Keep that close, child,” she said, her bent finger lifting to point at it. “To lose it would be devastating to all.”
She mumbled more that I couldn’t understand, but sounded like something about breaking his heart. I wrapped my fingers around the pendant, and it warmed again at my touch. I opened my mouth, but the man came running out of the store and Mom’s horn blared at the same time.
“I have to go.” I hurried away for the car.
“Wait! I can’t take this,” the man called after me.
As soon as I slid into the backseat, Mom hit the gas.
“Did you give a bill to that old woman?” I asked Tristan. He looked over his shoulder at me from the passenger seat.
“What old woman?”
I turned to look through the back window. She was gone. Only the man and the store clerk stood outside, gawking at us. When I turned back around, I caught Mom and Tristan exchanging a glance.
“Sorry, love,” he said. “I didn’t see her.”
“Me neither,” Mom added.
I picked up my pendant again and rubbed my thumb over the stone. “I think she warned me about breaking your heart.”
“Then I’m sorry I missed her. I think I love her already,” he joked.
He and Mom shrugged the old woman off, and by the end of the day, she became a memory. The pendant, however, I would cherish forever. It was special, and it was mine. Just like the man who’d given it to me.
Chapter 16
As December slipped into January and January disappeared into February, I spent as much time as I could writing . . . when I wasn’t in class or with Tristan. I was surprised at how easily most of the story came to me, almost as though it wrote itself and I was just a tool. My Aikido lessons didn’t go quite as well—I struggled with anything but the most basic moves—but I kept with them, if anything, because even as bad as I was, we still had fun together. And Tristan said it was good practice for him and his patience.
Then came Valentine’s Day and my birthday five days later, and both were miserable. I caught a horrible cold that fell into my chest and became bronchitis. I felt even worse because Tristan had planned a weekend in Orlando for my birthday that included seeing one of our favorite bands in concert. Instead, he made me homemade soup, and we watched my favorite movies.
“You probably shouldn’t be here,” I said to him my first miserable night, my voice hoarse and nasally.
“It’s Valentine’s. Of course I want to be with my love.” He sat on my bed with me curled in his arms.
“You really don’t want to catch this, though.” A fit of coughing emphasized my point.
“I don’t get sick,” he said. “I didn’t think you could, either.”
I started to answer, but coughing took over again. My head and shoulders and chest—oh, hell, my whole body—ached from the jostling.
“I guess my body’s not that strong,” I finally said. “My skin can heal, but according to Sophia, my internal organs aren’t as powerful. I’ll get over it quicker than most, but I still get sick.”
Another fit of coughing took over before I could finish.
“I’m still somewhat normal, in other words,” I croaked.
“That explains how the wine made you drunk,” he said.
“You don’t get drunk?”
Tristan shook his head.
“Huh. I wonder if Sophia can.”
“Nope,” she called from the kitchen. Her sense of hearing was unbelievable. If I didn’t feel so bad, I would have gotten up and closed the door, but it wasn’t like I was up to needing privacy tonight.
Tristan looked at me as though considering me in a whole different light. “What about your bones?”
“We don’t know. That cut last fall was the worst I’ve ever been hurt. I’ve never broken a bone, so we don’t know if they’ll heal on their own or not.”
“Hmm . . . you’re more fragile than I realized,” Tristan said. I looked at his face, trying to understand the grim tone. “I must be extra careful with you from now on.”
The next week, I swore he pulled back even more than usual during my Aikido lessons, and although he blamed the cooler weather, he always showed up in the Mercedes instead of on the motorcycle if I was going anywhere with him.
I was mostly disappointed but a little bit relieved that he had to cancel the plans for Orlando. A weekend away, just the two of us, would likely take us to the next level . . . we’d have sex, in other words. I’d been thinking about it a lot. Our relationship was serious enough for this to become a hot topic anytime now. In fact, in normal circumstances, we’d be way overdue, but neither of us was normal.
I’d never really planned my first time—though I’d often wondered, when I was younger, if I’d ever have a first time—so I had not specifically decided to keep my virginity until I was married. In fact, I wasn’t sure if I thought that was fair to either party. Mom had repeatedly lectured me about how it was the most important gift I could ever give and I could only give it once, “So you make it count.” I thought I’d know when the right person and right time came along, whether it was before marriage or on my wedding day. Now I was torn.
The right person had come along, but I hadn’t yet figured out the right time. Whenever we’d get passionate, my body would scream to continue. But my mind—and Tristan’s self-control—always won the battle against hormones. I began to think he was a saint. Of course, he had his own issues to deal with, like trying not to kill me.
So not until mid-March did sex even become a discussion between the two of us. It was a memorable night—for more than one reason—at the end of spring break, which I had used to finally finish the book. I only had a first draft, but the story was finally out of my head. Tristan took me out on his boat and then to his place so he could make me a celebratory dinner. But that had only been a cover story.
After dinner, we went out to the beach to watch the sunset. Unlike the beach by Mom’s cottage, this one was empty. Beaches were generally public property, but people assumed those bordering the big houses were private. Tristan spread a blanket out for us, and I sat down facing the water. He usually sat behind me so I could lean against him, but this time he kneeled in front of me, his back to the sunset.
“You’re, uh, facing the wrong way,” I pointed out the obvious.
“I prefer this view,” he said with a stunning smile. It was cheesy, but I fell for it anyway and grinned sappily at him. His smile faded. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure . . . you can always ask.”
He ignored my old answer. “How do you see the rest of your life?”
“Oh. Huh.” He caught me off guard.
We hadn’t discussed this since that night I learned there was more in store for my life than I ever realized. The night I learned I could possibly have true love, but nothing else about my future would go as planned. No settled family life in a comfortable home full of normal kids who played sports or music or danced and had lots of friends who came to our house to play. Instead, I had a future that may or may not include writing, may or may not include love, and may or may not include children . . . but would definitely encompass moving frequently, possibly running from danger, and whatever else would happen after the Ang’dora.
“Well, that’s a long time you’re talking about. You mean my immediate future or later, after . . . ?”
“Both. The rest of your life.”
“Hmm . . . well, I have no idea what it’ll be like after, unless it’s just more of the same, since that’s how Sophia’s life is. I’d still like to write. And I definitely still want real, soul-mate love and a family . . . if that’s possible.”
“What if I can make it possible? Can you see me in the rest of your life?”
I pondered this for a moment—not that I hadn’t already given it a lot of thought. But now I had to give a real answer, outside my own head. And I still came to the same conclusion. Although I didn’t know what being with anyone else was like, I couldn’t imagine feeling stronger love for another man. It simply wasn’t possible. Our connection was too deep. Just who we were told me we were meant to be together.
“I definitely want you to be in it.” I searched his face, wondering why he brought this up now. His eyes shimmered, and a smile played on his lips. “I said ‘soul-mate love,’ and I believe you are my soul mate.”
“And I know you are mine.” He took a deep breath. “So, Alexis Katerina Ames . . . will you do me the honor of allowing me to spend the rest of my life with you? Will you marry me?”
He held his hand out and opened a small box to reveal a ring. The air caught in my throat, and my heart stopped beating. I couldn’t see the ring clearly as tears welled. I looked at him instead, his eyes serious and pleading. So loving. So damn beautiful.
I froze. He did not . . . ? Oh, yes, he did!
“Erp . . . ” The sound that came out sounded ridiculous as I finally managed a breath. Speak, stupid, or he’ll take it the wrong way. “Um . . . yes . . . of course . . . Yes, Tristan Knight, I would love to spend the rest of my life with you.”
“Thank you,” he breathed with relief. Did he expect any other answer? He slid the ring on my finger, and before I could get a good look at it, he took my face in his hands and captured my mouth with his.
The kiss quickly grew with a new kind of passion full of promise for the future. We fell back on the blanket, our mouths moving with fervor. His hand trailed an electric path over my neck, across my collarbone, and down my side. His fingers pressed into my waist, and my hands gripped his thick shoulders as our lips and tongues continued their dance. Then his mouth left mine to travel slowly down to my throat, where it lingered, while his hand glided up the front of my stomach and over my breast. My skin instantly tightened, and a moan stole from my throat. He gently cupped and caressed my breast, moving his lips slowly over my skin to the opening in my blouse, slipping his tongue under it. One of my hands clawed at his back while the other twisted in his hair.
With deft fingers, he undid my two top buttons, enough to expose my chest, and kissed around the tops of my bra on both breasts. He traced the birthmark—twisted lines of slightly lighter pigment—over my left breast with his fingertip, then his lips, his tongue darting out and swirling over my skin. My breasts swelled so large, I thought they’d burst out of my bra, aching for his touch. I tugged at the bottom of his shirt, and he broke away to pull it over his head as I undid the last buttons of my blouse, letting it fall open. His hooded gaze surveyed me for a moment, the sensation tangible, and his tongue swept over his bottom lip. I bit my own as my back arched toward him.
He finally lowered his body down, hot and hard against me, and his length pressed into my hip and belly, making me burn so hot inside, I was sure he could feel the heat through his jeans. His lips found mine again, and his hand slipped between us and to my breast. His fingers slid under my bra and grazed my hardened nipple. Electricity stimulated every nerve, and I couldn’t control the moan or the spasm as my pelvis jerked and pressed against his erection.
And that was the breaking point.
He groaned and pounded his fist into the sand next to me. He sat up on his knees over me, and I started to reach up to touch his bare chest and sculpted stomach. He was so beautiful, so perfect. Except his eyes. Fire burned within them. I dropped my hand. He stood up and strode away without a word. I lay there, drawing ragged breaths, staring at the darkening sky. My heart raced, and the blood throbbed in delicate places. After several minutes, I finally buttoned my blouse with trembling fingers and sat up. The sky had darkened enough that I couldn’t see him anywhere. I picked up the blanket and his shirt and headed inside.
Tristan wasn’t in there, so I sat on a kitchen chair and waited. His house wasn’t quite home to me, not like Mom’s cozy cottage. The more time I spent with him and the more time we spent at his house, though, the more it had grown on me. Or maybe I was growing into it. The cottage was small and warm and soft, like childhood. Tristan’s house was large and new and angular—modern and sophisticated. As the newly placed ring on my finger indicated, I had grown up and would soon be starting a new life with Tristan. This house would become my home.
I studied the stunning ring he’d slid on my finger. The main diamond was square and large but not gaudy, and it was set with marquis diamonds and blue sapphires on each side. The band was either white gold or platinum—knowing Tristan, it had to be platinum—with an unusual design encasing the large diamond. I twisted my hand, letting the light hit the diamonds and create tiny rainbows dancing around me, when he finally walked in.
“I’m sorry.” He dropped to his knees in front of me, his face pained and his eyes sad. I stroked his cheek with my fingertips.
“You can’t help it.”
He hung his head. “I should be able to. What kind of boyfriend or husband can I be for you?”
I put my hands on his shoulders, leaned over, and whispered in his ear. “I’m not ready yet anyway. You’ll be fine when the time is right. And that’s when we’ll get married.”
He looked at me with deep appreciation. “I don’t deserve you. And you certainly don’t deserve me.”
I frowned. “Don’t talk like that. It’s just an obstacle we’ll eventually get over.”
Disbelief overcame his face, and he sprang up and strode around the room, his jaw muscle popping.
“Just an obstacle?” he bellowed as he turned on me. “Do you realize what I can do to you?”
With hardly any force, just a jerk of his forearm, his fist hit the wall and pieces of concrete fell to the floor, leaving a divot with cracks spreading from it. I froze in my chair. He glared at me with sparks in his eyes.
“I’m under control right now, Alexis, and that’s what I do without meaning to. Do you have any idea what kind of power I have? And you . . .” He growled and threw his hands angrily in the air. The kitchen table next to me—ten feet from him—rose off the floor, and when he dropped his hands, it crashed to the ground. The wooden legs broke into pieces under the weight of the marble top. “You weren’t supposed to be so damn fragile. I thought you’d be unbreakable, but you’re not. And if I lost control . . . imagine what I could do to you!”
I shook my head. “But you wouldn’t. You couldn’t!”
In a flash, he stood in front of me, looking down his nose at me. Power emanated in waves from his body, but I didn’t shrink away. His jaw clenched, and he ground out, “Don’t underestimate the force that lies beneath.”
“And you don’t underestimate the power of our love!” I jumped up on the chair and glared into his eyes while jabbing a finger into his face. “You love me! You know our love is more powerful than anything else.”
His face twisted, and his voice rose. “Don’t you get it? It’s not something I would do intentionally. But if I ever lost control and hurt you, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”
“I can heal!”
His eyes narrowed. “You don’t know that. What if I crush your bones? Crack your skull?”
“I’ll be fine. And so will you.”
“And if I kill you?” he snarled.
“Tristan, stop it! You will not kill me. I won’t let you do that to yourself!” I pounded my fists on his chest. It was hard as rock.
His hand twitched, and the marble top of the kitchen table he’d just broken lifted from the floor. It hovered threateningly in the air near me. I knew he wouldn’t do anything to me, but it aggravated me how he held it there.
“And what are you going to do about it?” he sneered.
“WHATEVER I NEED TO DO TO PROTECT US!” I grabbed the marble slab with both hands and hurled it across the room. It hit the concrete wall with a deafening crack and crashed loudly to the floor. The noise echoed off the walls, sounding like gunshots.
Followed by silence.
We both stared at it for at least a minute, too shocked to remember our anger.
“Did you just . . . ?” He looked from the wall to me and back to the wall in amazement.
I tilted my head, still staring at the marble slab. “Um . . . yeah . . . I just did.”
“You know that slab weighs at least three hundred pounds?” I felt him staring at me.
“Really? Huh.” I looked at him. “Well, someone had to put a stop to your temper tantrum.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “I’m sorry. I wanted you to know the reality of our situation, but I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You didn’t scare me, you idiot, you just really pissed me off. My whole point is I’m not afraid of you because I trust that we will win together. But . . .” I narrowed my eyes and tilted my head, a smile teasing my lips. “. . . since I just agreed to marry you, I think I should know if you’re always going to act like a broody teenager and throw an angsty fit every time you get mad at yourself.”
He lifted an eyebrow, the gold dancing in his eyes as his lips pressed into a guilty smile.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
