Promise (18 page)

"My kind?"

"You specifically…in so many ways."

"What do you mean?" I wanted to turn over, to
see his face, but he held me tightly.

"You not only tempt my innate inhuman urges,
but also my very basic, human desires. We are hazardous to each
other. And I am weak to your happiness, so anything you ask of me,
I will probably give. But the worst of it is if others—the
Daemoni—see my love for you, they will know they can use it against
me…which means hurting you."

"That's why they can't see us together. Why
we had to stay away from the media tonight."

"Exactly. This is a dangerous love we
share."

"So they'll come after us?" I inhaled sharply
as a sudden realization hit me. "Oh, holy crap! They've already
come after me! They attacked me in Virginia, before we moved here.
That
had
to be them."

I started shaking uncontrollably. Tristan
tightened his hold.

"It's okay,
ma lykita
. You're
protected. They don't even know where you are."

I gulped. "Are you sure?"

"I'm positive. I keep my feelers out and they
have no idea. You're safe."

I didn't even realize how heavy that stress
pressed on me until that moment. Those words released the pressure
tightening my chest and for the first time in months, I could
breathe fully and freely without that fear weighing me down.

"Besides, you have me now.
Your
ultimate warrior. I'm kind of created to kick some serious ass."
Although he lay behind me, in the dark, I knew he was grinning. I
relaxed in his arms.

We lay in silence for a while. The green
numbers on my clock glowed 3:14. I started to feel tired and my
mind finally wound down. The electric currents had settled down,
too.

"Tristan?" I asked, wondering if he was still
awake.

"Hmm?"

I almost didn't ask…it would be embarrassing
if he didn't feel it, too.

"Um, do you still feel that electric current
between us? It seemed like you did before, when we first got
together, you know…."

He chuckled. "Definitely."

"Do you know what it is? I mean, is that part
of…you? Who you are?"

He didn't answer at first, seeming to be
thinking about it. "I honestly am not sure. I
think
it's
part of who
we
are…but I haven't figured that one out yet.
But I like it."

"Yeah, me, too," I said with a grin. "Are you
glad it's all out now? I mean all the secrets? Because I am. I like
being able to finally talk about it."

"Now I know you love me, yes, I am. I knew it
had to happen and part of me couldn't wait to tell you everything.
Do you remember when you threw the dart at me?"

I giggled. "How could I forget? I was
mortified!"

"I saw it coming as soon as you let go. I
could have plucked the dart right out of the air before it got
close." He snapped his fingers in the air as if grabbing an
invisible dart.

"Why didn't you? I was so humiliated!"

He chuckled. "You were adorable. And that's
why I didn't. I decided in that moment your reaction to super-human
reflexes could be worse than to my ability to heal, since you can
do that, too. So I made the safe choice. But you didn't even
notice."

"I did notice the hole in your skin was
pretty tiny, but I didn't know what would've been normal. I
generally don't throw darts at people."

"Just me, huh?"

"Yeah, you're special." I giggled again,
giddy from exhaustion. "But you didn't say anything about healing
then."

"No, I let it go. I decided it was too soon.
And I haven't said anything since then because I've been afraid I'd
lose you forever and I didn't know if I could handle that."

It was ironic how I'd been feeling the same
way and my secrets were nothing compared to his. I realized how
difficult it must have been for him, not just tonight, but since
the day we met.

"I love you, Tristan," I whispered.

"I love you, too,
ma lykita
," he
murmured into my ear. He kissed my hair and I felt myself relax
into him and let sleep take over.

Chapter 13

The next month blew through like a
fast-moving hurricane, with school, helping Mom at the bookstore,
finals, the holidays and Tristan swirling around me. I hardly had
time to take care of necessities, like sleep, let alone write
between Thanksgiving and Christmas. I didn't even feel the void in
my life as the manuscript waited patiently on my computer. There
was too much going on and my brain was too full to think about that
whole other fictional world.

It felt like a strangely normal life, putting
aside all the peculiar things. Sometimes, especially when I was
alone in bed at night, I'd think about what Mom and Tristan had
told me. Questions floated lazily in my head just before I'd crash
from exhaustion. I usually forgot them by the time I had the chance
to ask. Mom shut me down on the few I did ask her—they weren't
relevant enough for her to give me answers. Tristan was more open,
as long as they were about him, but not about his horrible past and
definitely not about the Daemoni. Because of his willingness to
tell me so much, I opened up to him, too. We started building a
real
relationship.

On the Sunday before Christmas, finals out of
the way and only the holidays to worry about now, Tristan and I
went for a ride on the Harley to Gasparilla Island. We hadn't been
there since that one extraordinary weekend that now felt like a
lifetime ago. It wasn't quite the same as I remembered—like
anything you hold in your memory as a special treasure, built up
over time and looked forward to with great anticipation, it's never
quite as special as the first time. But it was still a favorite
place. The air was cooler than it had been in October and the
breeze stronger. We didn't dare kick off our shoes and walk on the
cold, wet sand. So when we stopped to enjoy the view, we watched
from our perch on the bike, my body leaned against the back rest
and Tristan's against mine, my chin resting on his shoulder.

"So, I was thinking…," he started to say as
we gazed over the beach.

"Uh-oh," I teased. "That can be dangerous,
you know."

"Hmm…I'll try not to hurt myself."

I smiled at the thought of this genius
hurting himself because he was thinking too hard and skimmed my
lips across his cheek.

"You're trying to distract me," he
murmured.

"Maybe."

"Seriously…I've been thinking about what to
get you for Christmas."

"Ah. It's less than a week away, you know.
You should have started thinking a long time ago."

"I did, as soon as I realized you and Sophia
celebrate Christmas. I think I have the perfect gift, but I want to
know what you want, just to be sure."

"I have what I want right here." I ran my
lips over his cheek again.

"Hmph. I'd like to give you something you can
keep with you to remind you of me when I'm not around."

"Like I can ever forget you." I kissed his
ear and he sighed. "Well, before you
do
hurt yourself over
this, I need to tell you the house rules. We only give gifts to
each other that have significant meaning. So they can only be
something we, ourselves, love dearly and are willing to give to the
other, or something we've created with thought and love. Does that
make it easier?"

"Hmm…then, yes, it's perfect." He relaxed.
"Any other rules I need to know about?"

I told him the traditions Mom started when I
was young.

"Huh. That's interesting. I thought Christmas
was about Santa Claus and presents and watching football on
TV."

I chuckled. "Not the way we do it. So, you
game?"

"Definitely. It sounds…fun."

I kissed his cheek again and then brushed my
lips down along his jaw line and back up to his ear.

"Thank you for today," I whispered. "I needed
it."

"It's not nearly over. I'm taking you
someplace special for dinner."

"Oh," I said, stiffening. "I should get home
to change then."

"No, not necessary. You're fine…well, maybe
overdressed." He smiled.

I furrowed my brows. I wore a long-sleeve
cotton shirt and jeans.
How special can this place be?
When
we returned to the Cape, he didn't take me home. We traveled on
unfamiliar streets lined with royal palms and obnoxiously huge
houses with canals in their backyards. I hadn't been in this part
of town, so I had no idea where we headed. We came to the end of
one of these streets and I knew the beach and the Gulf spread
beyond the other side of the foliage lining the dead-end. He pulled
into a wide, private driveway leading to a large,
concrete-and-glass structure overlooking the water.

"This looks fancy. You said I was
over
dressed," I whispered when he cut the engine to the
bike.

He chuckled. "This is my house, silly."

My mouth dropped. He'd never brought me to
his house; we'd never had any reason to come here. I'd imagined he
lived in a small, bachelor-pad type of place…like where a
twenty-year-old college kid would sleep and shower because he was
never home for anything else anyway.

The entire lower level appeared to be nothing
but garage from the outside, with four full-size overhead doors.
Tristan poked some buttons on a keypad by one of the doors. The
door opened as he came back to the bike and started it up. We
pulled into the garage and parked next to the crotch-rocket.

"Holy crap, Tristan." I giggled, nearly at a
loss for words as I looked around. "This is…
outrageous
."

"I told you I like toys." He laughed and
closed the garage door while I walked around, admiring the
"toys."

One side of the garage housed a speed boat, a
Waverunner and other water sports equipment. On the other side,
besides the two motorcycles, were a big, metallic-blue pick-up
truck, a shiny black Mercedes convertible and a hot red Ferrari
Spider—which I only knew after caressing my hand over the shiny
emblem.

"You don't even use these…do you?" I'd never
seen them before.

"Not so much. I prefer feeling the freedom on
the bikes. But when I want them, they're right here waiting. And
they're nice to look at." He'd come up behind me and put his arms
around me, pulling me close to him. He murmured in my ear, "Almost
as nice as you."

Heat rose to my face…in both embarrassment
and excitement at his breath on my ear. He brushed his lips down my
neck. Goosebumps rose on my arms. Then he took my hand and led me
upstairs to the rest of the house.

From the stairs, we came into a large, open
room with floor-to-ceiling windows on the opposite wall,
overlooking the Gulf of Mexico. Low sunlight streamed through the
windows. The décor was sparse, looking more like the lobby of a
business than a home. There was a sitting area in the east half, at
the top of the stairs, that included glass end tables, a boxy,
black-leather couch and loveseat sitting on a white, shaggy rug.
Various paintings hung on the walls and an easel with a
half-finished image stood at the window-wall. Long tables
displaying what looked like doll houses edged the western half of
the room.

Tristan picked up an electronic gadget from
one of the tables and when he touched the front of it, the screen
glowed. He touched it several more times and some lights came on in
the house and music started playing through speakers in the
ceilings.

"Another toy?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.
He just grinned.

"Come on, I'll show you around before I start
dinner," he said, taking my hand again and leading me down a
hallway off the living room.

The first room was an office with a large,
chrome-and-glass desk, three computer screens and two walls lined
with glass shelves full of books. Calendars and various charts hung
on a third wall and the fourth wall was windows, facing the Gulf.
An oversized, white suede chair with fat cushions and an ottoman
squatted in front of the windows. I imagined curling up in the
chair with a book, reading until I fell asleep.

"This is where I spend the majority of my
time when I'm not with you," Tristan said and then he led me to
another room, across the hall. "And this is where I am the rest of
the time…unless I'm at the big gym."

It was a home gym, complete with weight
machines. A large, thin mat covered half the floor, where various
sized punching bags hung from the ceiling along one edge of it. The
walls were bare, except for one picture. I took a couple steps
closer to it and realized it was a beautifully hand-drawn picture
of me, framed and matted.

"Tristan?" I asked, not able to pull my eyes
away to look at him.

"It's a reminder of why I need to improve my
self control," he explained quietly.

"
You
drew it?" I looked at him with
awe.

He smiled sheepishly. "I started with a
sketch when we were studying…well,
you
were studying. It was
shortly after we met."

"Wow…I never knew," I breathed, not realizing
the extent of his talent. I'd seen the cartoons he'd drawn during
class, of course, and still had one tacked to my bulletin board
above my desk. But this was no cartoon. He'd captured my expression
perfectly in the photo-like drawing. "You're so talented."

"It's easier when I have a beautiful
subject," he said with a grin. I snorted.

Also off the hallway were a bathroom, a
laundry room and a closet housing all kinds of baffling
electronics. He explained it was the control room for the system
that automated the lights, music and hurricane shutters. One of the
tall, black cabinets held a CD-changer with
hundreds
of CDs
in it. I just shook my head, at a loss of words for
such…indulgence.

He then took me upstairs to the top level,
which was nothing but a large master-suite loft looking over the
living room. A huge—had to be bigger than a king size—platform bed
faced the western wall of windows. I eyed the bed, with its black,
satiny comforter and many pillows.