Moonlight Kin 4: Tristan (11 page)

Oh, but he did. That was the problem. Tristan
couldn’t help but stare at her. There was too much bare skin
visible for him to ignore. He tossed the broken plate in the trash
and turned in time to see Isabel stop at the foot of the bed. Her
shoulders stiffened, and her sweet scent curdled.

“What’s wrong?” He scanned the bed to make
sure a spider hadn’t crawled onto it.

“Um...” She glanced over her shoulder at him.
“We need to talk about the sleeping arrangements.”

Tristan hadn’t thought about there only being
one bed. Pierre had conveniently forgotten to mention the fact.
He’d have to have a word with the Alpha before he left town. The
lumpy couch was too short for his large frame, but he couldn’t
exactly make her sleep there.

“I’ll take the couch,” he heard himself
say.

* * * * *

Tristan knew it was going to be a long night
as he listened to Isabel toss and turn, trying to get
comfortable.

He wondered, not for the first time, if she
had trouble sleeping because he was so nearby. He certainly was
having trouble, and it only got worse, when he pictured Isabel in
that sheer T-shirt.

He punched his pillow and turned over toward
the window. If he sat up, he’d have a good view out to the front of
the cabin. Not that he needed it. His incredible hearing had
already picked up the gators sloshing around in the water and a few
deer passing through.

Tristan closed his eyes and forced himself to
sleep. He needed to get some rest. He’d just dozed off when Isabel
whimpered. Tristan shot to his feet, prepared to face whatever had
disturbed her, but he found the room empty.

He glanced over at Isabel. She thrashed
against the covers, her limbs tangling in the sheets. A thin layer
of sweat glistened on her pale skin. She whimpered again then let
out a bloodcurdling scream.

Tristan leapt across the room, landing next
to the bed. Isabel bolted upright and stared out the window. Her
eyes were wide, but her gaze remained unfocused. His beast rose and
he scanned the darkness, but didn’t spot anything.

He watched helplessly as tears streamed down
her cheeks. Tristan didn’t know what to do.

“It’s okay,” he said awkwardly. “I’m here.
You’re safe. I’ll be right back.”

He bolted outside and quickly circled the
house to ensure there wasn’t a threat. When Tristan was sure they
were alone, he went back in.

Isabel glanced his way, and her brow furrowed
in confusion. “Did you find it?” she asked.

“Find what?” he asked.

“The monster,” she whispered, then glanced
out the window and screamed again.

Tristan rushed to her side and pulled her
into his arms. There wasn’t anything there, but he searched again
to ease her fears.

“Please don’t let it get me,” she begged.

“Shh... You’re safe,” he said, lowering his
voice. “I won’t let anything harm you.”

Isabel fought his hold for a minute then
slowly relaxed. She blinked a couple times, and her eyes cleared. A
moment later, she frowned. “Tristan?”

“I’m right here,” he said, gently rocking
her.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“You were having a bad dream,” he said. At
least he hoped that’s all it was. Tristan glanced back out at the
darkness and felt his wolf pace restlessly inside of him.

Isabel ducked her head, but not before he saw
her face blossom with color. “Sorry I woke you,” she said. “I
should’ve warned you that I have a lot of nightmares.”

“It’s okay.” Tristan wished he could go into
her dreams and slay the monsters plaguing her, even if they looked
exactly like him. “You all right now?”

She nodded.

Tristan slowly released her and rose off the
bed. Before he took a step back, Isabel grabbed his wrist.

“Don’t go,” she said, her panicked gaze
searching the darkness. “Not yet.”

Tristan hesitated. She was awake now and
aware of her surroundings. He should just go back to the couch.
“I’ll be right over there.” He pointed.

“Please,” she added. “Can you just stay for a
little while?”

He sighed and put his knee back onto the bed,
then sank down beside her. “I’ll stay until you fall asleep.”

“Thank you,” she said.

Instead of turning her back to Tristan, she
cuddled up next to him. Isabel’s body fit perfectly against his
larger frame. He felt every curve, every indent beneath that thin
T-shirt.

Tristan tried to relax, but it was impossible
lying next her. He remained rigid as she snuggled even closer and
her breathing evened out. He had no idea how much time had passed.
Tristan was about to slip off the bed and return to the couch when
he felt tears hit his forearm.

Had he somehow woken her? It wasn’t until he
caught a glimpse of Isabel’s blotchy face that he realized she was
crying in her sleep.

A crack formed in his icy exterior as her
tears fell. Tristan brushed her tangled hair back and made soothing
sounds. The kind of sounds he hadn’t made since childhood.

He couldn’t bear to see Isabel like this. He
wanted her fighting, yelling at him, anything but scared. Until
this moment, Tristan had no idea she was in so much pain.

More and more of him thawed as the minutes
ticked by. He continued to coo until her tears dried. As he stared
at her, Tristan’s control wavered.

He shouldn’t touch her. It would only
complicate things. Isabel didn’t really want to be comforted by
him, but that didn’t stop him from pulling her into his arms. She
snuffled, let out a long sigh, and relaxed.

Tristan held her tighter as something inside
him broke. The wave of emotion that struck would’ve knocked him off
his feet had he been standing. The emotion wasn’t anything as
superficial as lust. Though he definitely felt that, too. This was
deeper and more profound.

Isabel’s warm scent tickled his nostrils.
Tristan waited for her breathing to even out, then he buried his
nose in her hair. There it was again. Honeysuckle. Just like the
night they’d met.

He would never admit it, but Tristan loved
the scent. Loved that she smelled like summer and blooming flowers.
It reminded him of his childhood. His grip on her tightened, as he
wondered if she smelled like that
everywhere
.

He forced himself to relax. He didn’t want to
accidentally hurt her. Isabel nestled closer, and her hand brushed
his shaft. Every muscle in Tristan’s body tensed, and he groaned.
She made it difficult to remain detached.

Despite his resolve, Tristan felt a bond
forming between them. A bond that shouldn’t exist and would only
get in the way of his mission. His gaze shifted to the window. The
Darkling was hiding somewhere out there.

Isabel was a distraction he could not afford.
Tristan would need all his wits if he were going to defeat his
enemy.

* * * * *

It had taken hours, but he’d eventually
picked up on the Sighted-One’s scent. The small cabin sat in the
middle of the swamp like a fat toad on a log. There was no light
shining from any of the windows, but she was in there.

They both were.

The wolf’s stench clogged his nostrils,
filling him with disgust. There was no way to get to her without
going through him.

He circled the cabin, taking care to keep to
the shadows. It wasn’t hard given that he and the shadows were as
one. He thought about burning them out, but couldn’t take a chance
that the woman might be harmed.

Waiting wasn’t his strong suit. Heat rippled
over his dark fur. The Darkling had felt the sensation before. He
knew what it meant. The beast was watching.

He hadn’t spotted him yet. If he had, there
was no doubt in the Darkling’s mind that he would’ve confronted
him. After all, he’d chased him through the French Quarter,
unconcerned that they’d attracted attention.

The Darkling lifted its nose and smelled the
air. The muscles in his body tightened. Why were their scents
entwining? He sniffed again to make sure he wasn’t mistaken, but
the odd mingling hadn’t changed.

That shouldn’t be possible without close
contact. It would take more than being in a cabin together to
create the aroma. Even a cabin that small. What was going on?

The possibilities that flitted through his
mind left the Darkling enraged. There was a fine line between
attraction and hate, but surely it hadn’t been crossed so soon.

If that wolf had laid the Sighted-One, then
he’d do more than kill it. He’d make that Kin suffer like no other.
In the end, the wolf would beg for death.

* * * * *

Izzy awoke to find her nose buried in
Tristan’s neck. His arms were around her, holding her tenderly, and
his chin rested on top of her head. To make matters worse, she’d
snuggled up against him with her arm wrapped around his waist.

His breathing was even and relaxed, which
seemed at odds with the hard ridge resting next to her hip. There
was no way she could extricate herself without waking him.

She tried to remember how they’d gotten like
this. A dream flashed in and out of focus. Izzy remembered tears...
and asking him to stay. Tristan hadn’t wanted to from what she
recalled, but he’d done so anyway.

So he hadn’t been the one to instigate this
situation. She had. That just made everything worse. Izzy pulled
the covers up over her head. The movement disturbed Tristan.

He dipped his nose to her hair and inhaled,
then sighed loudly. A second later, his hips rocked, and she felt
every inch of his morning erection.

Izzy closed her eyes and groaned.

Tristan stiffened beside her.

“Don’t worry, you didn’t disturb me. I was
already awake,” she said.

He pulled his arm out from under her, and her
head dropped to the bed. A second later, he was off the mattress
and halfway across the room. She stared at him from beneath her
lashes. Tristan scrubbed a hand over his shadowed jaw.

“I’m going to catch a shower,” he said.
“Unless you want to go first.”

Izzy pulled the covers down to her waist but
couldn’t meet his gaze. Instead, she focused on his shoulder.
“That’s okay. You go ahead.”

Tristan gave her a curt nod and grabbed his
tote. “When I get out, we’ll grab something to eat, then get out of
here.”

“Where are we going?” Izzy thought for sure
they’d spend their days hanging in the swamp, waiting for the
monster to come.

“Into town,” he said as if that were obvious.
“We want to make sure the Darkling catches your scent.”

Izzy didn’t reply. What was the use? He’d
told her yesterday that he’d planned to use her as bait. One night
spent in his arms wasn’t going to change his plans.

She waited for the door to close behind
Tristan then wandered into the kitchen. Izzy put on some coffee and
found a box of cereal. She pulled out two bowls and a couple of
spoons. She left one out for Tristan, then filled hers and wandered
back to the table.

Izzy slipped on some shorts. She felt too
exposed in her T-shirt. Which was weird, since she hadn’t felt that
way last night. She thought about the moment she’d woken, wrapped
in Tristan’s strong arms.

For a few seconds, Izzy had forgotten all
about monsters and being hunted. She’d forgotten all about being
stuck in a cabin with a man who hated humans. She’d just been a
woman, lying in a man’s arms. And it had felt...
nice
. For
once in her life, she had actually felt safe.

Izzy should’ve known the moment wouldn’t
last. Life as she knew it was a never-ending nightmare. Tristan’s
arrival wasn’t going to change that.

* * * * *

Tristan couldn’t seem to get her scent off
his skin. It was like he’d absorbed part of her essence overnight.
He scrubbed harder, but he still felt her warmth in his arms. He
glanced down at his hard shaft and cursed under his breath.

This wasn’t good.

He jerked the nozzle to cold and stood under
the pelting spray. It helped with his body’s physical response but
did little to alleviate his growing need.

Damn her!

Tristan shut the water off and wrung his hair
out. He didn’t dare go out there in his current condition. He heard
Isabel crunching on something and smelled the aroma of freshly
brewed coffee wafting on the air.

He couldn’t hide in the bathroom all day.
Eventually he’d have to face her. It was best to do so head on
before she got the wrong idea about them—about him.

Tristan pulled on a pair of jeans and a clean
navy T-shirt, then yanked his hair back and tied it at his nape. He
shaved quickly, while glaring at himself in the mirror.

Last night, he’d come close to doing
something he’d absolutely regret. He’d have to make sure the
opportunity didn’t arise again because he wouldn’t be strong enough
to turn it down a second time.

* * * * *

The French Quarter bustled with tourists by
the time Tristan parked his truck. He hadn’t said much on the drive
into New Orleans, and for that Izzy was grateful.

She was so embarrassed about last night that
she’d rather pretend it didn’t happen. Izzy unhooked her seatbelt
and climbed out.

“What now?” she asked.

Tristan adjusted his sunglasses. “Now we
mingle, so the Darkling has a chance to catch your scent.”

“What happens if he does?” she asked, hoping
there was more to the plan than that.

“It’ll draw him out and allow me to get close
to him,” he said.

Izzy glanced around at the crowded sidewalks.
“Tell me your plan isn’t to kill him in front of all these people,”
she said.

Tristan snorted. “Hardly,” he said. “I’ll
track him back to his lair, then I’ll kill him.”

Izzy rolled her eyes.