Moonlight Kin 4: Tristan (9 page)

“Well it doesn’t,” she said just to aggravate
him. “Right now the only person threatening me and my family is
you.”

She faced the window once more. Izzy had to
get away from Tristan. It had been a mistake to think she was in
any way safe around him. Tristan might claim he’d protect her, but
after that statement there was no way she’d ever trust him. They
were no longer just talking about her life.

“Where are we going?” she asked, so she could
tell Stone. At this point, he was her only hope of getting out of
this mess alive.

If Tristan thought she’d put herself in
danger to help him kill someone—to help him period—he was wrong.
Izzy had no intention of getting in the middle of this monster war.
Let them wipe each other out. It would make her life much easier if
they did.

She glanced at Tristan and pictured him
covered in blood. Instead of relief, the thought brought only
sadness.

He put his blinker on and took the Barataria
Boulevard exit toward Jean Lafitte Park. The traffic thinned as he
continued down the road.

Eventually, Tristan turned right. It looked
as if he were driving into the woods, but it turned out to be a
poorly maintained gravel road. The truck bounced as it hit the
potholes, jarring Izzy.

Trees scraped the side of the doors as they
squeezed their way along the unmarked road. Izzy heard Tristan
curse under his breath as a particularly large branch scratched his
truck.

So he did care about one thing
, she
thought. Typical guy.

Tristan turned left onto a game trail. It
certainly wasn’t a road. The overgrowth was even worse, though she
didn’t know how that was possible given what they’d just driven
through. Tristan drove over downed limbs and squeezed his way
through the woods. At one point, he had to cross a murky
stream.

His curses grew louder. Most were aimed at
Pierre.

Izzy said nothing. Instead, she paid
attention to the route they were taking. Somehow she’d have to
explain to Stone where they were located. It wouldn’t be easy
without street signs. Hopefully he was from around here and would
know what she meant. Because as far as Izzy could tell, they were
in the middle of the woods next to the swamp, which in Louisiana
could be just about anywhere.

* * * * *

Tristan had said what he’d said to anger
Isabel. If she were angry with him, then she’d keep her distance.
The spot in the center of his chest ached. Tristan ignored it. What
he was doing was for the best—for both of them.

She was human. He was Moonlight Kin. Their
worlds were never meant to intertwine.

He thought about Damon Laroche and Aidan
Fortier. Both Alphas had taken human females as mates. They’d even
managed to breed true, but that didn’t mean the Lycanian Elders and
the rest of the packs wanted consorting with humans to become
habit. Aidan’s parting words to him came rushing back.

Once the wolf makes its decision, there’s
nothing you can do to change its mind.

Tristan shuddered. It would not happen to
him. He’d make sure of it. Contrary to what the Alpha believed,
Tristan controlled his wolf, not the other way around.

The cabin came into view, or at least what
was left of it. Like a lot of structures built in and around New
Orleans, this one had been lifted off the ground to protect it from
flooding. Too bad the move didn’t protect it from the elements.

There was no paint left on the walls, except
a thin strip of haint blue around the windows and on the front
door. He’d bet his fur that the front porch roof had also been
painted the same aqua blue color. Something clinked in the tree
beside him. Tristan glanced at the branches. They were covered in
bottles.

Like the haint blue painted on the house, the
bottle tree was there to ward off evil spirits. It was a Gullah
tradition, but obviously the Kin saw no need to get rid of it.
Tristan stared at the blue bottles covering the tree and shook his
head. He’d never been superstitious. He should remove them, but
they could use all the help they could get.

Tristan turned off the engine. A frown marred
Isabel’s soft features as she stared at the shack.

“I’m sure it looks better on the inside,” he
said, hoping it was true. Wolves were used to roughing it. In their
beast form, indoor plumbing and lighting wasn’t a concern.

Isabel glanced at him. “Doesn’t matter. I
won’t be here long.”

What did she mean by that?
He wanted
to ask, but was afraid of her answer.

Just like on the night Aidan warned him about
his wolf, Tristan felt as if someone walked over his grave.

His wolf snarled inside him. Tristan ignored
his beast and opened the truck door. He climbed out and immediately
sank two inches into the mud. Lovely, he thought, then raised his
nose to the wind.

Tristan wanted to get a good scent of the
area so he’d know the second something entered his territory. He
smelled stagnant water, along with fresh. The rich aroma of green
plants and lurking predators came next.

His gaze moved through the trees to the water
beyond. Beneath that surface lurked at least one gator, quite
possibly a few. He glanced at Isabel.

“Stay away from the water,” he said, then
grabbed his bag and hers from behind the seat and headed for the
cabin.

The place looked as if a strong wind would
bring it crashing down upon their heads. Izzy didn’t want to think
about how many creepy crawlies had made their way inside.

Did it even have a bathroom?

The thought of having to traipse into the
woods to do her business left her uneasy. Tristan may be a woodland
creature, but Izzy was not.

He climbed the stairs. The sweats molded to
his tight butt like a second skin. There wasn’t an inch of fat on
him. Everly was right. Tristan did resemble one of the
Avengers.

Izzy sighed. It would be so much easier if he
were an eyesore. As much as she wanted to hide out in the truck,
she had to go inside. Tristan opened the front door and disappeared
into the dark interior.

She waited, but he didn’t come back out. Izzy
pulled her phone out of her purse and quickly dialed Stone. The
phone rang and rang, but he didn’t pick up.

“Where are you?” she muttered. Her eyes
remained locked on the front door.

Izzy saw a flash of white and quickly turned
the phone off and put it away. She didn’t want Tristan to know that
she had it. No doubt he’d take it away. She’d just have to try to
get in touch with Stone later, when Tristan wasn’t around.

That thought brought her up short. What if he
was serious about not letting her out of his sight? It didn’t
matter. He had to go to sleep sometime or take a shower. Izzy would
figure something out.

She shoved the door open and climbed out of
the truck. Izzy tiptoed through the mud, though it didn’t do her or
her shoes much good. She glanced at the mud covering the toes and
scowled.

When she reached the front door, Izzy slipped
her shoes off and turned them upside down. At least if something
crawled inside them, it would fall out when she lifted them up. She
hoped.

Izzy pulled the screen door open and stepped
inside. Tristan was right. It did look better on the inside than on
the outside, but it was still only a one-room cabin.

A large quilt-covered bed had been shoved
against the back wall. At the foot of the bed sat a small table
with two chairs. The opposite wall held a couch. Perched beside it
was an overflowing bookshelf. Whoever lived here liked to read,
which surprised her.

A kitchenette, which consisted of a stove, a
sink, and a couple of cabinets, had been tucked in a corner next to
a small fridge. Izzy scanned the space, but didn’t immediately spot
a bathroom.

“Don’t worry.” Tristan pushed what she
thought was the back door open. “The bathroom is in here. The place
has a generator and its own well.”

Good to know
, Izzy thought.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he said. “If
you’re hungry, Pierre keeps the kitchen fully stocked.”

“I’m fine. I’ll just...” –Izzy searched for a
quick distraction— “read a book.”

He hesitated then shook his head. “I’ll be
out shortly. Try not to get into any trouble.”

Izzy waited until she heard the water come
on, then slipped out onto the front porch. She pulled her cellphone
out and called Stone again. This time, he picked up.

“Isabel?”

“It’s me,” she whispered. “You told me to
call once we settled into a spot. I don’t have long. The shifter is
in the shower. I’m in a cabin in the middle of nowhere. I need you
to get me out.”

“Describe it,” he said.

“Woods, mosquitos, and swamp,” she said.
“There weren’t any road signs once we turned off.”

Stone grew quiet. “I’m going to need a little
more info.”

Izzy glanced over her shoulder, but the
bathroom door was still closed. “We turned right before we got into
Jean Lafitte Park, then took a road that was barely visible. We
made one or two more turns, then crossed a creek. I’m sorry. I’ve
always had a bad sense of direction, especially when there aren’t
street signs.”

“It’ll be okay,” he said. “We have time. He’s
not going to hurt you as long as you’re of use to him. You’ve given
me enough information. I’ll be able to find you. Just stay put. You
did the right thing by calling me.”

Before she could ask when he was coming,
Stone disconnected. Izzy turned the phone off and dropped it into
her purse. She came back in the cabin as the bathroom door opened
and Tristan stepped out.

Water dripped down his bare chest, and his
hair was slicked back away from his chiseled face. He’d wrapped a
towel around his trim waist, which only accentuated his rippling
muscles. For a moment, she forgot how to breathe.

Tristan scanned the cabin. “Who were you
talking to, Isabel?” he asked as he finger combed his long, white
hair.

Izzy flinched but managed to keep her
composure. “No one,” she said. “Why do you ask?” Her voice
squeaked.

Tristan’s silver eyes narrowed. “I heard you
speaking to someone. I’m a wolf, remember?”

Oh God! How much had he heard? Izzy didn’t
know and couldn’t ask. Maybe he just suspected and hoped she’d
confess. She needed to stay calm.

He stalked forward.

Izzy’s heart skipped, and her mouth went dry.
She couldn’t seem to tear her gaze away from his moist flesh. This
close she could smell the soap he’d used.

Tristan stopped in front of her and sniffed
the air, then his expression darkened. “You’re lying,” he said.
“Who was here?”

The accusation snapped her out of her
momentary fascination. “No one,” Izzy said, which was the truth. As
far as she knew, they were alone. “I doubt there’s another soul
around here for miles.”

Tristan walked past her and stepped out onto
the porch. His skin glistened in the afternoon light, making him
appear even more ethereal. His head lifted and he inhaled deeply,
taking in the scents from various directions. When he finished, his
shoulders relaxed, but Tristan’s expression remained impassive as
he came back inside.

A water droplet slipped down the center of
his chest then glided over the ridges of his abdomen before seeping
into the towel around his hips. Izzy licked her lips, suddenly
thirsty.

It took her a moment to pick up on the
silence. When she did, Izzy glanced up. Tristan’s body was rigid.
He didn’t appear to be breathing at all. The heat in his mercury
eyes looked hot enough to melt steel.

Izzy cleared her throat. “You should probably
get dressed,” she said.

Tristan took a step forward. “Who were you
talking to, Isabel?” She’d lied when he’d asked her the first time,
but he didn’t know why. He couldn’t sense anyone nearby, but that
didn’t mean they weren’t there. When you were dealing with magic,
you couldn’t be too careful.

The heat from her body increased as he closed
the distance between them. So did his. Isabel shouldn’t look at him
like she wanted to eat him up. She shouldn’t be admiring his
appearance at all. But she had been. There was no mistaking the
hunger in her gaze or the longing.

Tristan crowded her until she backed against
the front door. The pulse jumped in her neck. He slapped his hands
down beside her head, caging her. If she weren’t human, he would
strip her and take her right here. But she was.

His chest brushed hers. Tristan felt her
nipples pebble just like they had last night when he’d kissed her.
Isabel’s rich scent grew stronger. He wanted to roll in it—or at
least his wolf did. His nostrils flared. Her desire wrapped around
him, hardening every inch of his body.

“Tell me the truth,” he said. He made sure
they continued to touch, even though it was sheer torture.

Tristan had meant to intimidate her into
telling the truth. He had always been good at holding himself
separate from his duties, but Isabel’s sweet citrusy scent was
doing strange things to his head.

She glared at him. “I was talking to myself.
Okay?” Isabel put her hands on his chest and pushed, but she didn’t
put much power behind the move. Instead, her fingers lingered on
his hot skin and stroked across his pecs.

Tristan quivered. Did she realize what she
was doing? He wasn’t sure, until she did it again.

Isabel’s eyes widened in surprise as his body
responded to her caress. The woman was playing with fire. Her hands
moved over to his arms, encircling his biceps.

It wouldn’t take much effort to rip the
clothes off her. Even now, Tristan tried to work out the easiest
way to bare her.

She stroked the length of his arm.

Tristan froze, torn between wanting more and
moving out of reach. It had been a long time since he’d taken a
woman to his bed. Too long, given his state of arousal from a
simple touch. Maybe later he’d go out and find a willing she-wolf
to take the edge off.