Promise (17 page)

"Owen told me what happened at the park and
this was the same guy," Mom said.

"Did he tell the police?" I asked. "They need
to know, don't they? Tristan and I should probably give a report,
too, right?"

To my surprise, Mom shook her head. "No.
Right now the police think it was a drunk driver who lost control.
Just an accident."

"But, Mom…that's obstruction of justice! He
was purposely aiming for us!"

"Alexis, we don't know that for sure and we
never will. What more justice can there be, anyway? He's dead. What
good can come of making it more than it seems?"

"Do you want that little girl to grow up
thinking her dad attempted murder?" Tristan asked quietly.

I sighed heavily as I slumped back in my
chair, thinking of that poor little girl. I didn't know whether to
be relieved to know her dad would never hurt her or her mom
again…or sad she would have to grow up without a dad at all. I
decided to be relieved. From what I'd seen, he wasn't much more of
a father to her than my sperm donor was to me.

"I'm exhausted and I think we better go to
bed before this night gets any worse," Mom said, standing up and
stretching. "It's late, Tristan. You're welcome to stay. Just
remember…I'm right in the next room."

He nodded, the corners of his mouth twitching
as he fought a smile at her comment, and then he turned to me. "Is
that what
you
want?"

I thought about whether I wanted him nearby
or if I needed time to think by myself. There was still so much I
didn't know about him. I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep and if I
needed to talk about anything, I would want him there. And I still
wanted to be
with
him. I still loved him. Perhaps even more
than I did just a few hours ago.

I placed my hand over his. "Yes, I want you
to stay with me."

Chapter 12

I brushed my teeth and changed into a tank
top and pajama shorts before Tristan joined me in my room. I sat on
the bed nervously while he stood just inside the door.

"Are you okay with this?" he asked,
hesitantly. "I mean, with me in general, first of all?"

I considered what he meant. My heart said I
was okay with him, but my mind played devil's advocate.
He's
killed people
. True, that was something I had to accept about
him, but that was his past life. Not who he was now. Not
my
Tristan.
He wants to kill me
. No, he said he can't, I
reminded myself. He said his love was stronger.

"Yes, I am more than okay with you."

"You're not scared of me now?"

"Should I be?"

He walked over to me and knelt on his knees
so we were eye-to-eye, placing his hands on my thighs. "Do you
still love me?"

"Definitely."

"And I love you. As cliché as it sounds, I
strongly believe our love will conquer anything else…at least,
anything inside of me."

"I believe that, too. Besides, if you'd
wanted to kill me, you've had plenty of opportunity."

He grimaced. "Let's not make light of it,
okay?"

"Sorry. It's just that I…
trust
you."

He chuckled but there was no humor in it. "I
tell you all this terrible stuff about me and
now
you trust
me?"

"Yeah, ironic, huh?" I thought about that for
a moment. "I guess it goes to show how powerful the truth is.
Whatever you did in the past doesn't matter now. You've been
forgiven. I love who you are
now
." I held my hands to his
face, stroking his cheeks with my thumbs. "You are now more a part
of me than ever."

"Yes, I have given you everything," he
murmured. "Before I met you, I didn't even know I really had a
heart. And now it is yours—all yours."

I pulled his face to mine and kissed him
gently on his satiny lips. Then I kissed his forehead…and his
eyelids…and his cheeks…and his chin…and the corners of his mouth.
The built-up emotions of the night—fear, anxiety, shame, pain,
sadness—crashed down on us and then were pushed away by the
strongest of them all: love. Our lips moved together hungrily. I
tasted the tangy-sweetness of mangos and papayas, lime and sage, on
his lips…his breath…his tongue.

Our kisses became more passionate as he
leaned into me. My heart raced with excitement, my body pulsing
with electrical charges he sent through it with every touch. I
wrapped my legs around his waist and pressed my body into his while
pulling him closer still with my arms. I wanted to just melt into
him and let him feel that I did really love him.

He laced his fingers into my hair and pulled
gently back, exposing my neck. He moved his lips along my jaw, down
my throat. I let out a sigh as he kissed my collar bone and then
pulled my head back further, lifting my chest. He nestled his face
between my breasts. His body trembled against mine. And then he let
go of my hair and relaxed his own body, breathing heavily against
my chest. My own breathing was ragged as I struggled to use my
brain, to figure out why he'd stopped.

We both sat there for a minute, him on his
knees, his head against my chest, me holding him tight, but
starting to relax. When the fog cleared from my mind, I knew it was
good he'd stopped. I wasn't ready for anything more.

"I don't think we should push it any
further," he finally said.

"Right," I agreed, reluctantly letting him
go.

"I should probably go home."

"Please don't," I reacted. Then I remembered
what I did to him—his internal struggle between wanting to love me
and wanting to kill me—and my heart hurt for him again. "I mean, I
wish you would stay, but if you think you need to…"

He rocked back on his heels and his face was
tight, as if concentrating hard on something. His eyes were closed
and he took careful, controlled breaths. When he opened his eyes,
the gold looked more like fire than sparkles, but not bright flames
like I'd seen before. That's when I realized what the flames
meant…he was about to lose control. Each time I'd seen them, we'd
been in a moment of passion and passion led to loss of control,
regardless of who—or what—you were. I knew that already just from
the little bit I'd experienced. He stopped us not just because he
was a gentleman, but also to protect me. I shuddered.

"I do scare you," he said quietly.

I shook my head.

"I trust you, Tristan," I whispered, my
throat hot and dry. A cold glass of ice water suddenly seemed
absolutely necessary. "You want a glass of water?"

He smiled. "That would be wonderful."

I stood up and found my legs to be slightly
weak and wobbly. By the time I returned and we both drained our
glasses, we felt cooled down enough to lie safely together. We lay
on our sides in my small bed, my back against his chest, his arms
around me, holding me close. It felt nice…perfect.

But my mind continued to spin, not ready to
shut down, questions still flying through it. I started with an
easy one.

"So, when's your birthday?" I asked.

"Ah. Now the questions." He chuckled in my
hair. "October 31."

"
Halloween
? Oh…I guess that shouldn't
be surprising."

"It was just a coincidence, though,
especially since I was premature," he said. "I was
born
.
They didn't hook me up to a machine and turn a switch on."

"So you're not like Frankenstein?" I asked
with a giggle.

"Definitely not. They just made sure the
right genes…and other things…were a part of my creation. But I'm
more like you than you realize."

"You keep saying that and I believe
it…although I still really don't know who I am."

"I'm sorry I can't tell you, but it's not my
place." He kissed the back of my head. "If you pay attention to
your mom and to me—and really believe we're very much alike—you'll
get an idea of who you'll become."

"Hmm…good idea. So, we missed your birthday.
I'll have to make that up to you."

"No need. I prefer not to acknowledge it," he
said sadly. I realized the real meaning of his dislike for
Halloween.

"So are you twenty-one now?"

"My age is irrelevant. I can be whatever
you'd like me to be."

"Well, I'm eighteen, almost nineteen…" I
sucked in my breath as a thought occurred to me and I giggled. "You
know, you are quite the dirty old man!"

He chuckled quietly in my ear. "I guess you
could look at it that way. But I'd rather not. Let's say I'm
twenty, okay?"

"Okay. That works for me. So, how'd you meet
Mom? During the war, I mean."

"She was a nurse, I was a soldier."

"You were a soldier? You fought in the war?
Wait…which side were you on?"

He sighed. "I've fought in many wars and most
of the time not on the side you would prefer. But, in that one, I
was on the Allied side. The Daemoni had an ulterior motive for me
with some American soldiers."

"Oh." I didn't know how to respond.

"I never completed it, though."

"Why not?"

"One of my…targets…was severely wounded.
Sophia took care of him. I knew who she was, but I couldn't bring
myself to do what I'd been created for. She was so tender and
caring. She didn't know this guy at all, but she showed so
much…
love
for this complete stranger." He paused. "That's
when I first started to comprehend the action of love—not the
emotion, but at least what it looks like in action. I'd always
hated the way I was, but I didn't know any other way. Not until
then. So I left her alone, left him alone. He became an influential
reverend and then U.S. senator—that's why I was supposed to take
him out. So, I considered leaving the Daemoni then. I started
thinking about whether I
could
be any different. It took
nearly forty years, though, before I knew for sure I could
change—the next time I met Sophia, when she took me to the
Amadis."

Wow
. Tears filled my eyes. "She saved
you," I whispered.

"Yes, she did," he whispered, too. "That's
how I knew I was okay with her—I could be around her without any of
those…urges—and I just had to worry about you. I knew she wanted me
to stay away from you, but I couldn't, and it was difficult to defy
her like I did. I owe everything to Sophia—more than just my life.
So much more."

We lay there silently for a minute or so. I
thought he was done, but then he continued. "When I joined the
Amadis, I shed that old life permanently, Alexis. It was like a
rebirth. I took the name Tristan Knight and started a whole new
life, never looking back. I need you to understand that."

"I know already," I said quietly, squeezing
his hand. "And, in that way, you
are
only around
twenty."

"Yes, that's how I like to look at it." I
could hear the smile in his voice. "Now, can we change the subject?
Or go to sleep?"

Sleep? Yeah, right.

"If you wanted to sleep, you should've gone
home."

He chuckled. "Then ask a different question.
Preferably, something about the present. The past is gone and I'd
rather you not think of me the way I was."

"To me, you'll always be my sweet Tristan. I
love the person you are now. We can leave the past where it
belongs."

He hugged me tighter in appreciation. I
kissed his hand while I thought about an easier topic.

"Do you really do all that stock market and
consulting stuff? Or was that just a cover?" I finally asked.

"No, I do that. I tried to be as honest as I
could with you. The consulting I do is for the Amadis. And one of
my abilities is I can open my mind to see all the possibilities in
a situation and identify the best solution or path to take, as long
as I have the facts. So that stuff is easy to me."

"Wow. That must make school easy. But why do
you even bother with school anyway?"

"Right now, as I said, to meet and get to
know you. And it's an appropriate thing to do at my age."

"Isn't it boring? I mean, surely you've
learned all this before, especially these lower level classes."

"If I'm actually going for a degree, yes,
some things can be repetitive. But many things have changed so much
over the years that much of it is new to me, too."

"How many degrees do you
have
?"

He chuckled lightly in my ear. "Three
bachelor's—finance, engineering and architecture—and an MBA. I've
done the medical thing a couple of times, because medicine really
has changed over my time."

"Wow," I breathed. "That's…
incredible
.
You don't act or talk like you're so educated. I mean, not that you
act stupid or anything, you just don't…talk down to me or the
others, I guess."

"I adapt, remember? I become the person I
need to be for the situation."

"Hmm…" This bothered me. I couldn't help but
wonder how much he'd adapted himself to be the person he needed to
be for me.

He seemed to read my mind. "Don't worry…I'm
still me. Well, the me
I
want to be," he said. "I just meant
the way I talk, the words I use…. The reason I believe we are meant
to be together, why I said soul mates earlier, is because, first of
all, you are the only one who has made me capable of loving, and
secondly, because I can be the me
I
want to be and it works
with you."

"It works very well," I agreed, comforted.
"Tell me about this healing stuff. I mean, how you can heal other
people. Mom and I can't do that. Well, I don't
think
Mom
can."

"You won't know what you can do until after
the
Ang'dora
. But, for me, every ability I have is more
powerful than anyone else's. The healing ability is strong in my
DNA, so, in my saliva, in my blood…."

"Oh. So what are your other abilities? What
does it mean to be the
ultimate
warrior?"

He sighed. "It means they designed me to be
nearly perfect in mind and body to win any type of battle…mental or
physical. They gave me the best offenses and the best defenses.
But, I'm not completely infallible. I have my weakness…." His voice
trailed off.