Ambrosia (Nectar Trilogy, Book 2) (3 page)

“Did you want me to find you?” His tone was gentler.

Tears started to roll down her cheeks.

“Answer me!” he demanded through gritted teeth.

She shook her head, trying not to look at him but catching a glimpse of a sour look on his face.

“Lie!” he hissed, “Don’t lie to me and do
not
lie to yourself. I’ve been out of my mind not knowing if you were alive or dead. Do you know what that’s been like? Look at me.”

She squeezed her eyes shut tight.

“Look at me right fucking now, Kyla.” His voice was low, menacing.

She opened her eyes and lifted her chin. Fury emanated from him. Despair lanced through her.

“Do you know what it’s like for
me
?” she choked out, hoarsely, “to know that, yeah…” she swallowed hard, “you’d probably find me but to not know who you’d be when you did? You could be any of three people and there’s only one of them I’d wanna cross paths with. If only you were just him…” She wanted to collapse.

He thrust his fingers through his hair and then folded his arms across his chest.

“You can’t… feel me?” she asked.

He let out a huff, “I can now. But I couldn’t. Not until today. How did you turn it off?” His mouth was a tight line.

Her voice shrank even smaller, “I-I don’t know. Then how did you find me?”

He let out a sigh and his posture relaxed a little. He pinched the bridge of his nose, “I didn’t start tracking you until today when I got to the island. Couldn’t feel you until I got here. I looked for you the old fashioned way until today, bringing me to Vancouver yesterday. Tonight I checked email and saw the ping in Victoria from the Kovac website when you landed there at that library. We track anyone who hits our site to determine why they’re pokin’ around. My people tracked the IP to a library in Victoria and reported it to me. From what I’d already found out about the path you took I knew it had to be you. I felt you the second I got off the boat.”

The library? What a bonehead move. But now what? He was clearly pissed. But his eyes were still blue so that was something.

Wasn’t it?

“Damn it, Kyla.”

She stared at the dingy-looking tiled ceiling and shook her head slowly.

“Talk to me,” he said.

“Are you here just to talk?”

“No.”

“What, then?”

He huffed impatiently, “Talk and then leave.”

“You’re leaving?”

“We’re leaving. Don’t play games with me.”

“We? What’ll
we
do? Wait for you to board the black-eyed crazy train again and really kill me this time? If that’s what you want, fine, whatever. Take me back. Chain me to your bed.” She shrugged.

“Kyla…” he warned.

A long moment passed.

“Tristan, I…”

His name coming off her lips must’ve been his breaking point. Before she got another word out, before she could say
I’m scared
or say
I’m sorry
, or before she even totally knew what she wanted to say, he surged forward and was on top of her, pinning her arms on pillows above her head. His mouth was a centimetre from hers,

“You. Left. Me.” Accusation shot out of his eyes.

She was breathless, heaving. His proximity, his smell, the electricity coming off him…it was revving up every nerve in her body. Her blood felt hot inside her veins but her skin felt cold on the outside. She was practically salivating to have him inside of her every way he could be. She wanted inside of
him
the only way she could be, through connecting via his teeth.

“You almost murdered me,” she took a deep breath, “do you have any idea how frightening you were? My body was full of bruises. My arms, legs, my throat, my… soul,” she choked up, “and Sam? How was I supposed to stay? He wanted me for breakfast as soon as I stepped into that, that fucking dog run. And you, you finally went down and not a moment too soon because I could’ve died and he was down and I… I did the only thing that made any sense in this totally nonsensical situation. I ran…”

Despite those being her words coming out of her mouth inside her head she was practically screaming
I’m sorry.

He let go of her wrists and leaned back, still on top of her. One hand landed on the wall and the other on his forehead. His eyes were closed, his face full of pain.

“I waited,” he said softly, not opening his eyes, “I made myself wait. And you don’t know how hard it was. You can’t begin to fathom how torn up I was not feeling you. You should’ve fucking called me. I could’ve got and kept you safe instead of wondering if you were taken or dead.”

“And say what? I’m fine but don’t come look for me because I’m afraid you’ll kill me? I only stopped bleeding a few days ago. Did you know that? I thought it would never stop. If you found me when I was still bleeding? What? What the fuck? And what about when it starts again?”

His proximity was making her tingle. His thighs holding her down, his warm sweet breath so close to her face.

“So you had to run to the other side of the country? Could you not have gone somewhere and called me? I could’ve left the apartment, kept you there safe. I could’ve done something other than want to claw my heart out because it almost killed me to worry about you non-stop for all that time! I was in hell. And these will make sure it doesn’t come back.” He pulled an unmarked amber prescription bottle of pills out of his jacket pocket and slammed it on the small table beside the bed.

She shook her head, “You can guarantee that, can you?”

“No, but it’s all I have at this fucking second.”

“What about everything else? The danger? The missing blood? The addiction? Your rage? How was I to know if you’d ever be you again? I can’t, Tristan; I love you but…”

He gasped, his lips crashed into hers and his warm hands were on her face. His breathing was ragged and she tasted peaches, and grapes, and pineapple, oranges, cherries, marshmallows, and cream. His lips possessed hers, his tongue stroked hers. He held her possessively and it was heaven.

Ambrosia fruit salad…

She moaned into his mouth. Her body was like jelly. She hadn’t meant to blurt that, hadn’t even thought about it. It just happened.

“Say that again,” he demanded softly.

“Say what? Ahh!” she gasped as he tugged on her earlobe with his teeth.

“You know what,” he growled, rolled so she was on top of him, and caught her face in his hands. The anger melted away from his expression as his eyes scanned her face.

“That’s not the first time I said that to you.” Her lower lip trembled. She balanced on her palms, hovering over him, looking down at his gorgeous face, feeling tingles all over.

“I know,” he whispered and sucked her bottom lip into his mouth and moaned, the vibration of his moan sending a wave of euphoria through every inch of her.

Her world stopped. “You know? You heard me?”

He nodded slowly, his eyes softening, warming. His fingers massaged her scalp. “I wasn’t sure if I dreamt it. You just confirmed that I didn’t.”

A sob tore out of her mouth. She choked on it and then asked, “You really heard me?”

Did my love really break through and stop the monster? I broke through. I did.

“So, you love me but you can’t?” His eyes were filled with warmth and they pleaded with her.

She said nothing. She was sinking, getting lost in a sea of blue.

I could try.

He seemed to understand her unspoken thought and touched his lips to her nose, “Say it again,” he said softly.

“I love you,” she blurted, feeling all the air leave her lungs.

“With my name,” he whispered.

“I love you, Tristan.”

He gave her a brief squeeze and then abruptly flipped her onto her back, let go, and got up to his feet. 

Huh?

Kyla was flabbergasted. Where was he going?

“I need to sleep,” he muttered this and shook his jacket off so it fell to the floor. Then he got his shirt, shoes, socks, and then jeans off.

Stripped to black boxer briefs, he climbed under the covers and plopped onto the pillow and threw his forearm over his eyes. She looked at him, accusingly, mouth hanging open.

After that declaration, he lets go and…and that’s it?

Talk about feeling bereft.

She climbed under the covers and scooted over beside him, “Uh…Hello?”

“Hello.”

“Uh…”

“I’m very mad at you.” He muttered this, lifting his arm briefly and giving her a narrow-eyed look and as her heart started to sink she caught that he looked like he was trying to suppress a smile.

“Oh.” She dug her elbow in the pillow adjacent to him and propped her cheek up on her palm.

“Yeah. So shhh, go to sleep. I’m tired. I’ll deal with you later.” Now he was definitely failing at trying to hide a smile.

“We’re not going to talk?”

“Tomorrow. I haven’t slept. I need to close my eyes for a little bit.”

“You said you wanted to talk.”

“Tomorrow.”

She leaned over him and whispered in his ear, “You don’t want to fuck me and drink some of my blood?” She used her phone sex operator voice, flicking his earlobe with the tip of her tongue and reaching between his legs, feeling smug about the fact that he was hard.

“Nope.” He grabbed her hand and pulled it up to his chest and held onto it. She could see goose bumps on his forearm and was supremely pleased with that.

“You aren’t going to tell me you love me, too?” Kyla asked, in a small voice, brushing her nose across the rough stubble on his jawline.

“M-A-D,” he spelled out. His eyes were still covered but now there was a goofy grin on his face.

“Oh,” she pouted, “’kay, then.”

He reached over and turned the lamp off, wrapped his arm around her, and pulled her close. She put her nose to his chest and inhaled him, threading her fingers into his hair. She listened to him breathing and to his heartbeat and felt like she was being softly lulled to sleep by all of it. His hand rested on the arch of her ear, his fingers tangled in her hair.

“But you’re not
so
mad at me that you won’t let me cuddle with you?”

“Nuh uh.” He tugged on her ponytail.

“Good enough,” she nuzzled in.

After a few minutes of nothing but crickets outside and the sound of his heart and his breathing soothing her, she felt him tense up.

Then he softly said, “Princess?”

“Hmm?” Her soul wanted to sing at hearing the endearment.

“I will not let you go. Ever. You were meant for me. You were created to be mine. Somehow I still have remnants of a soul and I know this deep in there.”

She choked on a sob. He wasn’t done.

“I’m gonna make sure you don’t ever have to run away from me again.” His voice was soft, smooth, and she was overcome with the scent of warm caramel sauce. This was aromatherapy at its finest.

“’Kay.”

“And I do love you, too,” he whispered, “I love you more than breathing. More than blood, more than anything.”

Wow.

Her throat was clogged. She let out a long stuttering breath.

“But I
am
mad at you. Don’t ever fucking run from me like that again. We need a contingency plan for if things ever go wrong again. We’ll make one. Okay?” he kissed her forehead.

“Kay,” she said. She wanted him. She wanted him in the worst way, “and I’m
not
mad at
you
, Tristan. Even though you almost killed me.”

He squeezed her and kissed her forehead again, “Thank you, baby,” he murmured.

She wanted him to bite her. She wanted him inside her. But he just held her and stroked her hair until he fell asleep, which didn’t take long. When his hand stopped moving she wondered if he was showing her that he had self-control. Then she closed her eyes.

Kyla woke up to the sound of a lawnmower and the scent of fresh cut grass. Tristan was still sound asleep beside her and for a split second all was right with the world.

All was not yet right with her world, of course, but here in his arms it felt like right was definitely possible and she wanted to enjoy the ‘right now’ while she could.

It was just a double bed, way smaller than the beds she’d been in with him so far, but this was good; she liked how close he was. She felt safe for the first time since she’d left him.

Safe was an odd feeling to have considering she’d run away to
be
safe but strangely, she did feel safe. It felt like she was almost whole. Almost. There was so much to figure out, yeah, but she felt like she might feel whole again when he drank from her.

She placed her palm on his cheek. The dark stubble had grown just past scratchy and was soft. He looked good enough to eat.

Isn’t that ironic?

He also smelled amazing. She felt a burst of affection for him.

He opened his eyes and showed her the most beautiful shade of blue she’d ever laid eyes on. He smiled a little, flashing perfect white non-elongated teeth, “Good morning, sunshine.” He turned toward and then kissed the palm of her hand.

“Brightest I’ve had in a while,” she said shyly.

He pulled her onto his body and shivers ran up her spine. He rubbed his hands up and down her back and touched his lips to her temple.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” she whispered and ran her hands up his arms.

She didn’t know until he was back beside her just how much she’d missed this. She couldn’t imagine never ever having this again.

But was anything different? She knew there was a bottle of pills on the nightstand. Would they work? And beyond that what about everything else? What had changed? At this very moment all she really knew was that she was glad he was here, glad to feel him. It might be incredibly stupid but because he was here the hollow and gaping hole of emptiness was gone.

“Okay, talk to me,” she whispered.

“Not yet. Snuggle,” he pulled her tighter against him.

“Can’t breathe,” she whispered.

He loosened his grip a little.

She nuzzled into his neck, reached down and ran her hand up the ridge of his erection, then squirmed against it, hoping he’d throw her down and take her.

“Mmmm,” he murmured, the timbre of his voice making her body break out in goosebumps. He slid her yoga pants and panties down past her ass.
Yes!

Then he threw his arms over his head and waited. “I was gonna make you wait,” he breathed, “Punish you…”

“Oh yeah?” she whispered and started to tongue his earlobe.

“But you may fuck me. Show me you’re sorry.”

“Oh, may I?” she giggled, feeling tingly in her nipples.

“You may,” he said sheepishly, eyes closed, “I still might give you a spanking later; I haven’t decided.”

“Hmmm. Promise?” she teased and squirmed up against him. He gave her a mischievous smirk. Kyla squirmed out of her pants and threw her top over her head and off to the side, then rolled his boxers down enough to get to his cock and squeezed it, watching him react. His eyes were still closed but his mouth opened slightly and then he bit down on his bottom lip. She took no time guiding him inside of herself. She was ready --- more than ready. She leaned forward, putting her neck over his mouth, offering her throat to him.

He kissed it lightly, threaded fingers into her hair, and then pulled her head back by the length of her ponytail a little roughly to gain access to her mouth. She whimpered with need. He kissed her voraciously. She gyrated, she squeezed the muscles of her inner walls, absorbing the feel of every inch of him inside of her. He released her hair and grabbed her hips. His hands felt like they were on fire. He moved her the way he wanted, creating a fluid motion as he continued to kiss her hungrily.

She groaned into his mouth, loving the cinnamon toast taste of him while being full of him, but wanting his teeth on her. She needed his teeth on her. Bad.

She nuzzled her throat across his mouth, giving him access again. He grunted a frustrated sound and then flipped her over onto her back, started to plunge deeper and harder into her, his eyes squeezed shut tight, an expression that looked like pain on his face.

“Baby,” she begged, grabbing his jaw with both hands. She wanted his emotions inside of her, wanted that humming inside her veins.

“Can’t,” he whispered and opened his eyes. There was definitely pain there; he closed them again, tight.

He wouldn’t look at her. He wouldn’t bite her. He seemed, suddenly, like he was broken. Was he so mad at her for leaving? Did he really hold that against her? Or was he afraid the monster would wake up if he tasted her blood?  Fear and pain pierced her soul.  Her heart sank. He stopped moving. He was just there, inside of her, his face buried into the pillow she was lying on. He was breathing hard.

She pushed all of her fear and negative thoughts out, planted a kiss on his shoulder, and clamped her legs tight around his waist. She wanted to take him to a happy place in her mind as she visualized his face, his smile, his dimples, and felt joy well up in side of herself.

He let out a little grunt and balanced his hands on the mattress and looked down at her. His eyes blazed a brilliant blue. Something flashed, something darker but the blue burned through.

Two or three jerks of his hips and he pulled out. It was over, before she’d even gotten close, before he did. He didn’t come, just pulled out and collapsed on top of her, burying his face in the pillow again.

Regardless, the proximity of him, the feeling of being under his body, it struck her as achingly beautiful. It was so nice to feel him inside of her, feel him so close to her. She didn’t care about the sex right now, just wanted him close and it felt like this was the closest he could be without his teeth on her.

He stayed on top of her for a long time, just still, letting her hold him. She ran her fingers through his hair, ran her hands up and down his back, his rear end, feeling the smoothness of the skin, the strength of his muscles, planting soft kisses on his shoulder, and just enjoyed feeling his warmth, inhaling his scent. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on his breathing and his heartbeat but then heard another power tool start up outside somewhere. He eased away from her. Then suddenly, he flipped her and was upright with her sprawled across his lap.

She gasped in surprise. He gave her bum a single hard slap. Her entire body tensed. She was shocked; it really stung! He moved her off his lap and got up out of bed. She was on her knees, afraid to sit down, the sting of his slap singeing her rear end.

“Pack up; we have a ferry to catch,” he leaned over, touching his lips softly to her bottom right where it stung, and then he ruffled her hair as if she was a small child.

“Where?” She was probably as scarlet in the face as she was on the bottom.

“Arizona. First a ferry to Seattle.”

“Adrian? That elder?”

“Yes.”

Kyla got up and then headed for a shower. She rubbed her backside as she walked away and shot him a dirty look over her shoulder. He lifted the Puma bag onto the bed and gave her a sexy wink.

~~~

She jumped in the shower and while she was washing her hair, he stepped in. For a moment she thought he wanted to continue what’d been started in bed but he was all about getting washed. She went to leave the shower but he stopped her by grabbing her wrist and said, “Stay.” So she washed his back while he washed the rest.

After the shower, she dressed in a pair of jean shorts and a button-up long sleeved white, thin, almost sheer, cotton hoodie with purple braided drawstrings. He got dressed in a fresh pair of dark button fly jeans and black t-shirt from the duffle bag. The fact that she hadn’t ditched any of his clothes might’ve surprised him. She wasn’t sure as he didn’t say anything. She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t done it. She lifted the bottle of tiny pills from the table and put them in her purse, gathered everything else up and added it all to the bag and French braided her wet hair and secured the bottom with a ponytail holder.

“Uh…” He was leafing through the duffle bag, which was sitting on the coffee table in the sitting area of the trailer. He pulled out her passport and opened it and glanced inside the booklet.

“There’s some more cash in my purse, too. And I can replace what I’ve spent with money from my own---”

“No, I’m looking for my passport. Please tell me you didn’t throw it away.”

“Oh. No, it’s, uh…it’s under my pillow.”

He quirked up an eyebrow at her.

She shrugged, cheeks flushed. He gave her a sweet smile and then he went into the bedroom. When he came out he was sliding both passport booklets into his back pocket, “Ready?” he asked, looking tense.

She nodded, feeling awkward and trying to gauge his mood, “I’ll just drop this garbage bag in the bin and stop by the front office and drop off the keys. I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll come,” he said and slung the bag over his shoulder.

“I’m not running away from you,” she defended.

Sheesh, watching me like a hawk, carrying my passport for me?

His eyes met hers, “Good to hear that. And I know. But I can’t let you out of my sight right now.”

“Because?”

“Because. It’s dangerous.” He strode past her, stone serious, out the door, grabbing the bag of garbage and the gym bag from her on the way. She followed behind him, frowning, and locked the door behind her.

“Why? What’s going on?”

“Later.”

Later?

This shit would have to stop
real
quick. She refused to be kept in the dark. But she was going to give him some space for the moment because they’d been in one another’s sights for less than 12 hours and her emotions were still all over the place. It was obvious his were, too.

~~~

Kyla listened to the manager of the RV park grumble and huff about her checking out early. Kyla told the middle aged woman with the wrinkles and colouring of someone who drank a few nights a week and smoked two packs a day, that she didn’t need the deposit back, just wanted to hand back the keys. She knew that if the woman had gone down there she’d see the screen door was now gone and that’d forfeit the deposit, anyway.

Tristan hovered in the doorway of the office while she did everything and then when the manager muttered that she had to go investigate the condition of the trailer before finalizing the paperwork Tristan sauntered up to her, leaned over, put both palms on the desk, and then he looked her in the eye and calmly said, “You’re going to sign off on that and give us the original file. You don’t need a copy. Kyla Spencer was never here. You’ve never seen her or me in your life. Give her the deposit back.”

The woman stood still while he spoke and then nodded at him after he stopped speaking and then dazedly handed Kyla the $500 cash that was held as a damage deposit.

“I should leave something for the screen door,” Kyla mumbled to him.

“Fuck it, it’ll take nothing for them to put it back on,” he growled and then grabbed Kyla’s hand and impatiently rushed to the parking lot. He clicked a keychain button and a black Impala chimed as the doors were unlocked and the engine started. He opened the passenger door for her. She got in, feeling astounded at how easy it was for him to get the grumbly cantankerous woman to just agree.

“Where’s your phone?” he asked.

“I left it at your condo,” she was a little taken aback.

“Not that one. Your original phone.” he nodded toward her purse.

“I, uh..”

Tristan snapped his fingers in front of her face, impatiently, “Get with it, Kyla.”

“I ditched it.” She blinked hard at his callous demeanor.

“Ditched it where?”

“Back home.”

“Good.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“I’m just making sure you don’t still have it.”

“No, I don’t. Why?”

“Tracking.”

“Who would---”

“Later.” He backed out and they were on the road.

She looked out the window, feeling pissed about being dismissed so flippantly.

“Kyla, don’t,” he warned, “I need you to not.”

“Not? Not what? Not wonder what’s happening? That’s like saying not to blink when someone is about to poke me in the eye. You can’t
not
tell me what’s going on and expect me to be a deer in the headlights.  I’m not that woman back there. I’m not Julia.”

“That’s for sure!”

She huffed out a big breath.

He gritted his teeth, “I’m not in a good place right now.”

“You think I am?”

“Kyla…”

“What?” she spat.

He took a deep breath, “I have a lot to say to you but I’m using every iota of self-control I have right now to make damn sure I don’t grab you and drain you dead. Is it too much to ask that you just PLEASE give me a wide fucking berth?”