Ambrosia (Nectar Trilogy, Book 2) (20 page)

She nodded.  He was right. Again, he was right.

“I hate the idea of you being away from me, though.”

He caressed her face.

“I know. I hate the idea of not being there to protect you so I have to find a way to keep you safe from me but yet safe from others, too. If anyone got near you? Fuck. I’m meeting with Adrian and Claudio in the morning to strategize.”

“Can I be there?”

“No. I don’t think that’s a good idea. You shouldn’t have been there tonight. Obviously it was one of Adrian’s games. I’m not letting him get his hands on you and he can’t wait to find out more about you so he’s running these stupid experiments. I have to make decisions and I need you to trust that I’ll make the right ones.”

“I can’t sit idle and let you make all the decisions for me. Besides, you don’t exactly have a great track record with that.”

He cocked a brow at her, “What?”

“Uh, dog cage, elephant tranquilizer guns, hello?”

He got a defeated look on his face.

She climbed to the top of the bed where all the pillows were, pulling him along.

“Put some clothes on,” he mumbled and got out of bed, grabbed jogging shorts for himself and threw yoga pants and a t-shirt in her direction. “No way I’m sleeping beside you naked.”

“I’m not naked,” she gestured to the dress, which she’d pulled the strap up on.

“You stay in that dress much longer and you
will
be…”

~~~

She was drifting off, feeling really sleepy, but then she heard him on the phone.

“Claudio…

Fine, yeah…

Listen, can you arrange to fly my mother here tomorrow in the private jet? She needs to program Celia to forget Kyla exists.”

Woah.

Kyla slept surprisingly sound. She didn’t dream, didn’t remember any tossing and turning, and she woke up without having slit her own throat so thankfully hadn’t been ‘programmed’ by Celia. On that thought, she recalled Tristan’s phone call.

He’d said his mother was in Montreal. He’d said he didn’t see her very often and that their relationship was complicated. And then he’d asked Claudio to bring her to Arizona so she could program Celia to forget Kyla existed.

She heard him in her mind,

“
Celia is the
second
most manipulative, strong, most vicious female vamp I know…”

Did that mean that since Tristan’s mother could program that powerful vamp to forget Kyla existed that Tristan’s Mom was
the
most manipulative, strong, vicious female vamp he knew?

Yikes.

If so, no wonder he had qualms about turning her. And it wasn’t like Kyla wanted to be a vampire and drink blood to survive and it also wasn’t like Kyla felt like, at this juncture of her life, that she was ready to be a mother or especially ready to count down nine months until death, either, but she’d been grasping for solutions to their problems, looking for a way out, a way out that didn’t include her and Tristan being apart.

Clearly Tristan’s mother was a powerful she-vamp. What about his father? Vampire royalty, too, reportedly, but Tristan hadn’t said a word about his father.

“I smell smoke,” she heard Tristan sleepily say.

She sat up fast, “Oh no!” She inhaled the air but couldn’t smell anything.

He’d been asleep beside her and was now pulling her close, “No, silly girl, those wheels are turning mighty fast.” He poked at her temple.

She snickered, “Oh. Yeah, they’re going at about a million RPM. Definitely smoking.”

He ran his nose along her throat, kissed her on the jaw, and then released her and got out of bed.

“Getting a shower and then moving you. I feel that peak comin’, princess, and it’s coming on strong. I’m putting you in a cottage, there are several on the grounds, and I’m putting you behind a locked door the rest of the day. I wish I had someone I could trust here. I’d put Adrian’s dagger in my gut until this was over.”

“Maybe we should go home. Fly home. Get me in the panic room for a day or two, then come back?”

“I considered that. But more movement equals exposure to Liam. We’d probably be better to stay put. I don’t want to leave here without a dagger. Let’s head down. I know it’s early but I want us out of this building. Earlier means less chance of traffic in those common areas.”

He took a shower and Kyla purposely waited until he was done to get hers and when she was out of the bathroom, Tristan had their bags in hand and motioned for the door.

“I need coffee,” she gave him a pout.

“Five minutes,” he said, jaw tight, seeming impatient, “Game face on.”

She straightened her posture, put her sunglasses on, and followed him out.

~~~

Adrian and several guards showed them to a cottage on the edge of woods that were on the property. She was surprised at how woodsy it was, considering they were in a state that she thought would be mostly desert. It was a pretty stone house that looked like it was on the set of a fairy tale or a Lord of the Rings movie and there were mountains lining the horizon off in the distance. It was romantic. There were pretty gardens planted around winding stone walkways and a rounded wooden door. Inside the front door was a big but cozy room with heavy-looking old furniture and a huge fireplace that separated the living area and kitchen. The kitchen had a door that opened to a back patio area.

At the back of the house was a dining room, large office, and a bathroom. Upstairs were two bedrooms and another bathroom and the long upstairs hallway overlooked the main living area with a heavy wooden banister. The place was filled with well-loved rustic antique furniture and Kyla hated to admit it but she absolutely loved the place. It had character. It’d be a great place for a getaway… if they weren’t in the predicament they were in.

Tristan said the plan was for Kyla to spend the day in the bedroom, for Tristan to spend his time downstairs. Separated, but still in the same building, as he didn’t trust anyone with her. He said Adrian had offered to put her on guard there while Tristan stayed back at the main house but he had zero plans to go along with that idea. He didn’t trust Adrian at all, it seemed.

After they were alone in the cottage, breakfast had just been delivered, she tried to talk to him. He was in a supremely shitty mood.

“This omelette sucks,” she grumbled.

“It’s alright,” he shrugged, taking another bite.

“You make much better omelettes,” she said.

In truth, it was fine but it was nothing like the one he’d made back at his Tuscan villa, shirtless and singing Led Zeppelin in his jean shorts.

Here he was in a suit, looking handsome, but looking angry. And they had a battle in front of them. A big one.

He gave her a half-hearted smile but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Talk to me,” she said.

“It’s gonna be a rough few days,” he mumbled, taking a sip of his coffee. “I’m just getting my head ready for it. As soon as you’re done there, we need to separate. I can’t take it.”

She reached across the table for his hand.  He squeezed it briefly and then let go and snatched his hand back, “I can’t even touch you.”

She winced.

He pushed his plate back, “I am using every ounce of control I have to pretend that throwing you on this table and fucking your brains out isn’t all I’m thinking about. Well, not all I’m thinking about but the thing I’m thinking about the most. The other shit in my brain includes Liam, the shit Adrian pulled last night, the fact that Celia is locked down and we’ve got to get her head straight so we can release her, and a pile of other shit.”

He threw his fork down and got up and looked out the window.

“Like your mother coming?”

He shook his head, “You heard me on the phone. I suspected as much. Your smoking wheelhouse brain kept me up half the night.”

“Tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“About her. About why bringing her here is upsetting to you.”

He shook his head, looking deep in thought.

“When did your mother become a vampire?”

“A year after I was turned.”

“And she’s not a nice one, I take it.”

“Hah. That’s funny. She makes Celia look like Mother Teresa.”

Kyla winced.

“Yeah. I don’t want her anywhere near you. But that’s not likely because she’ll get wind and then you’ll see.”

“Talk to me, Tristan…”

“Kyla, things are fucked. I’m just trying to get through the next few days before I have to face the next set of hurdles, okay? Please. Gimme a fuckin’ break with the questions. Haven’t you had enough enlightenment in the last 24 hours?”

She swallowed hard and felt her heart sink.

“We,” she whispered.

“What?” he snapped.

“
We
have to face these hurdles. Not just you.”

He thrust his hand through his hair, “We. Yeah, just eat up and get upstairs so you can give me a wide berth and give me some space so I can take care of the problems
we
have. Okay?”

She dropped her fork and pushed away from the table. She went upstairs to the room she was told she needed to stay in and threw herself on the big sleigh bed. Then she tried to shut down her feelings. She tried real hard to shut down her ability to give a shit.   She failed miserably.

A few hours later there was a knock on her door. She got out of the bed, where she’d been reading on the tablet computer, and stood against the door. “Yeah?”

“Miss Kelly? I have your lunch.”

Kyla opened the door cautiously. A server had a covered tray for her.

“Spencer, not Kelly.”

“Apologies, Miss Spencer.”

As it got dark the same woman showed up with another tray for her. Dinner.

Later, she was tossing and turning in bed. She got up to go to the washroom but she heard voices so she peeked over the banister, where she could see that below, Tristan was sitting on the sofa, working on his laptop.

Sam and a blond curly-haired guy, someone whose face she couldn’t see from her vantage point, was sitting with him. They were talking but she couldn’t hear them. Tristan looked agitated. Then she saw Tristan drop his laptop on the table, hard, and then grab the unknown guy and physically throw him across the room. The guy landed on his back on the floor about ten feet away from Tristan and Kyla felt her body tighten.

Tristan’s eyes darted up to her. He pointed at her in and mouthed “go” with a scowl on his face. She ducked back into the bedroom and shut and then re-locked the door.

A few hours later she needed the restroom again so she quietly ducked into the hall and down it into the bathroom.  When she came out she heard a woman’s voice.

“I’ll just say
Hello
and be on my way.”

“Not tonight,” she heard Tristan reply.

“Awe, sweetie… don’t make me wait to meet the love of your life. I want to know that she’s good enough. I won’t rest until I see for myself. Celia said she’s a hellcat.”

“Celia better have nothing to say about her after tonight.”

“Don’t fret, darling. I’ll take care of that.”

“Why didn’t you just deal with it when you were with her?”

“I wanted to speak with you first.”

“Well, it’s getting late. Deal with it, please? I’m ready to go to bed.”

Kyla quietly ducked back into the room. She looked out the window as she heard a door close and saw a woman in a black full-length evening gown with cocktail gloves and a wide brimmed hat walking down the stone walk. She looked straight out of an old black & white movie. Her beauty looked sort of timeless. She didn’t look old enough to be Tristan’s mother. Glamorous. Dark hair. She looked up and right at Kyla and smiled and gave her a little wave. Even from there and even in the dark she could plainly see where Tristan’s eyes came from. Kyla gave a hesitant wave back.

The woman turned on her heel and headed down the path. Kyla backed away from the window and sat on the bed. She heard noise outside her door.

She turned the knob to open it, it opened inward, but as she turned the knob she heard, “Don’t.” That was Tristan. “Leave it shut.”

“What are you doing?” she called out.

“Leaning against the door.”

“Why?”

“Need to be close to you. As close as I can be without being in the same room.”

Her chest burned with emotion.

“We’re almost over this first hurdle, babe,” she told him.

“I know,” he replied. But he sounded exhausted already.

And how many hurdles were there? First ovulation, then waiting with a sense of impending doom for her period. There was Liam Donavan to deal with, and who knew what hurdle would be next?

She wanted so badly to be in his arms. She wanted to smell him, to taste him, to feel his strong arms around her. She wanted to feed him, feel him inside.

“Go to sleep, okay?” he called out. “Sooner you do, the sooner this day is over.  Need anything to eat or drink?”

“Nope.”

“Goodnight.”

“Love you. ‘Night.”

“Love you,” he replied, sounding exhausted.

She heard noise and she suspected he was gone. She got ready for bed. As she worked in her moisturizer she decided that this day hadn’t been great but it seemed a little
too
easy to get through.

She’d later change her mind about that. And the night following that one would be the longest night of her life so far.

~~~

She woke up in pitch black darkness, freezing cold, so she tried to nuzzle deeper into the blankets and in her semi-conscious state, reached for Tristan’s warmth but then she remembered he wasn’t in bed.

As she realized this she was acutely aware of sensations like her body was covered in static so she leaned over to switch the lamp on the bedside table on and that’s when she saw him. Tristan was standing over the edge of the bed.

She held her hand over her eyes to shield against the sudden brightness of the lamplight and when they adjusted enough that she could see him she saw through a squint that he didn’t look so good. He was grey and he was breathing cold fog into the room.

Oh shit. Am I bleeding?

He grabbed his temples and closed his eyes, looking like he was having an internal struggle. Then his fangs shot out.

Oh God.

He was suddenly on her and his skin was suddenly normal, his eyes were normal. He wasn’t cold.

“Baby?” he asked, looking confused, like he didn’t know how he’d gotten there. He gave his head a quick shake and then took a deep breath and then scrambled back off her.