6. Chapter Six Tristan
Chapter Six: Tristan
A driana inched closer to me. She was having a hard time moving now, so I could tell this was difficult for her. “I’m sorry.”
Her words pulled a sigh from me, more from the weight of our new reality than any irritation. "I know, Ade," I replied, feeling the press of her body against mine as an anchor in a world that had tilted on its axis. "And I'm sorry too. It's just... here, I can't be the guard dog I'm bred to be. I can't walk through this suburb like I own it, and without knowing the lay of the land..." I trailed off, the frustration evident in my voice.
The chill of the early night seeped through the bedroom window of our Delaware house, but the warmth between us pushed it away. Lying beside Adriana, I felt the steady rise and fall of her chest against my side. My attempts at being a fortress for her seemed to crumble; no amount of muscle and might could shield her from the emotional cold that gripped her now.
"Adriana," I whispered, inching closer. The distance of mere inches felt like miles in the silence of our room. Each deliberate shift of my body was an attempt to shorten the chasm, to meld her worries with the heat of my skin. My hand found hers over the covers, my fingers entwining with hers.
"Hey, I know you miss Carmen," I said softly, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "I see it, you know—the way your smile doesn't quite reach your eyes anymore." My thumb caressed the back of her hand, a small comfort I could offer amidst the storm of her emotions.
Adriana's lips parted slightly, vulnerability flickering across her features before she masked it with a nod. She didn't need to say anything; I felt her loneliness cling to her like a second shadow. It was a void I couldn't fill, but damn if I wasn't going to try.
"I miss them, too," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper. Kieran and Liam - my brothers, my clan, my blood. In the dark, stripped of the pretenses that came with the light of day, I could admit it.
Kieran wasn't just a brother to me. He was my right hand, my confidante, my partner in crime. And Adriana was right.
I was angry at Kieran, but he had saved my life.
And Liam…Liam, who was still so young and yet burdened with a legacy he never asked for. The guilt and worry gnawed at me every day. "I worry for them," I confessed, the words raw and heavy on my tongue.
Adriana's gaze softened, her grip on my hand tightening as if to root me to reality. "Tristan," she started, her voice tender with understanding, "You can't bear this alone."
I looked at her then, really looked at her. Her dark eyes held a world of pain and empathy—a mirror to my own heartache. Her short hair framed her face in soft shadows while the dim light highlighted the strength etched into her features.
"I can't pretend to know how you're feeling,” I admitted candidly. “I've never had a sister like Carmen... but I do know what it's like to miss someone so much that it feels like a piece of you is missing."
"I know," Adriana whispered, her free hand reaching up to trace the line of my jaw. The touch was soft, almost fragile, but it harbored a strength that was unmistakably hers. "We can mourn them together.”
The chill of the early night seeped through the windows, but the cold had nothing on the fear that clung to my bones. Silence filled the room, dense as the winter's frost outside our safe haven in Delaware. I lay there beside Adriana, the bedsheet a meager barrier between her turmoil and my own.
"Ade," I started, my voice no more than a hushed confession in the darkness. "I'm scared." The words tasted like defeat, but they needed to be said. I was not a man given to admitting weakness, yet with her, it felt like the only truth worth telling.
"Scared?" Her voice was a soft whisper, laced with surprise. I never showed this side to anyone, the side that doubted, that feared. But she wasn't just anyone.
"Being in this wheelchair," I told her, "it's like being stripped of armor in enemy territory. I'm used to having control, but now..." A heavy sigh escaped me before I could cage it. "Now, I feel as if I'm facing down a future where every shadow could be a threat I can't see coming."
She turned to face me, her proximity a balm to my unease. In the dim light, her eyes were oceans of empathy, her presence an anchor in the uncertainty that our lives had become.
"Tristan, you're not alone in this," she said, her voice firm, though I could hear the undercurrent of her own fears mingling with mine.
"Neither are you," I replied, shifting closer, undeterred by the limitations of my body. "Let me take your mind off things for a while." My tone was a blend of confidence and tenderness, a promise of distraction from the world's weight. "Trust me, Ade, when I say I want nothing more than to make you forget all your worries, even if just for a moment."
My lips sought the delicate skin of her neck, tasting the salt of her skin, feeling the warmth beneath as if it were a treasure I was sworn to protect. My touch, though gentle, carried the full heat of my longing.
I wanted her.
I always wanted her.
Her reaction was immediate and visceral. I watched, transfixed, as a shudder ran through her. Her breath caught, hitching in her throat, a sound that spoke volumes of anticipation and need. It was a subtle intake of air, yet it echoed thunderously in the silence of our room. Her body, always so poised and controlled, seemed to sway toward me, gravitating to the source of warmth, to the promise of escape I offered.
"Tristan," she breathed out, the word laced with an emotion that clenched deep in my chest. Her response was an aphrodisiac, heightening my senses, sharpening my focus on her and her alone.
I traced a path down her abdomen, my fingers savoring the warmth of her skin. "Let me take care of you," I murmured into her ear, hot breath stirring the little hairs on her nape.
I slid my hand down to her leggings, slowly pulling them down to her ankles, as my other hand traced gentle, soothing patterns on her belly. The swell of our unborn children beneath my palm was a physical reminder of the life we had chosen together, of the future we were both fighting for. A loving smile ghosted my lips as I pressed a soft kiss to her stomach, feeling her hands thread through my hair in response.
“You smell so good,” I said.
As I my lips moved lower, my hand traced the curve of her hip, my fingers trembling with a mix of anticipation and reverence. Her breath hitched in her throat again, a sound that sent waves of desire coursing through my veins.
My hand glided teasingly along the inner part of her thigh, coaxing another breathy moan from Adriana as her fingers tightened on my shoulder. The sound echoed in my ears, mixing with the rhythm of our shared heartbeat which seemed to beat louder and louder as I moved painstakingly slow.
Then, inch by agonizing inch, I moved lower. I could feel the heat of her longing, an invisible flame beckoning me closer. Her fingers clutched onto my hair in a silent plea and a promise of pleasure.
"Tristan," she gasped, her voice strained with anticipation. That was all the affirmation I needed.
With one focused lick, I tasted her sweetness. Her body bowed off the bed, a strangled moan ripping from her throat that filled the room and echoed off the marble walls of our sanctuary. It was like my name had been carved into every exposed brick and whispered back to me in a thousand different ways.
I continued my exploration, pressing soft kisses across her inner thigh while my fingers busied themselves with drawing small circles on her sensitive flesh. Each touch, each flicker of tongue against her clit sent shockwaves through her body. Her breathy moans and sighs served as my compass, guiding me deeper into the maze of our shared pleasure.
This was something I knew how to do. Something I was good at. Something that made Adriana lose herself completely in a realm of sensations where I could make her forget everything else.
I gently sucked on her, running my tongue over every ridge and crease.
Her fingers tightened in my hair as she gave a sharp intake of breath, her body trembling beneath me. I listened to the sweet sounds escaping her lips, each one more intoxicating than the last.
I was relentless in my pursuit, ensuring each touch, each flicker of my tongue was better than the last. With every sound she made, with every tremor that danced under her skin, I savored the taste of her pleasure like it was the finest of wines.
“You taste so fucking good,” I said, my breath hot on her sensitive flesh.
Her body quaked in response, her fingers clenching in my hair as she pulled me closer. Nothing existed outside of this moment, outside of the pleasure I was giving her. My world was reduced to the taste of her, the sounds she made, and the feel of her body beneath my touch.
“Tristan,” she whispered, her voice a thin thread of sound over the hum of our desire. "Don't stop."
“I’m not going to stop until you come for me, love.”
And I meant it. The weight of our fears, of the uncertain future we faced, could wait at the door. We deserved a reprieve, and if pleasure was a refuge, then I would offer every bit of it to her. Adriana, for all her strength and resilience, deserved to be worshipped, to be loved in a way that made her forget the world outside.
And with that promise lingering between us, I returned my attention to her, lavishing every inch of her in slow, deliberate strokes of my tongue. She trembled beneath me, her soft sighs and gasps the only soundtrack in the room. I thrived on her reactions, each one fueling my desire to taste more, to feel more.
I pressed my fingers into her, deep and slow, mirroring the rhythm set by my tongue. The sensation was met with a gasp, her hips lifting off the bed to meet my movements. Her walls clenched around me, eliciting a groan that vibrated against her sensitive flesh.
With every thrust and swirl of my tongue, she grew more desperate, more lost in the sensations. I could feel her spiraling toward her release; her breaths were shorter, faster. She gripped my hair tighter, urging me closer, deeper.
And everything else faded away.
This was a language I understood – the language of her body responding to mine.
Driven by her cries of pleasure and eager to push her over the edge into blissful oblivion, I quickened my pace. My fingers plunged deeper within her as my tongue flicked over that spot which made her hips buck and writhe beneath me.
"Tristan," she gasped, the word shattering into a thousand tiny shards of raw emotion. The sound of my name on her lips was like a drug, spurring me on in a heady rush.
"Come for me, Ade," I murmured against her, my voice low and rough with desire.
A moan echoed off the walls – low, primal, and full of surrender. Her body convulsed beneath me as wave after wave of pleasure seized her. Her fingers clenched in my hair, holding on as if I were the only thing grounding her to earth.
My name tumbled from her lips again and I savored it, savored every gasping breath and shaky moan.
I continued moving against her, my tongue and fingers drawing out every shudder, every quiver until she finally stilled, her breath coming in ragged gasps. My name, whispered in a husky voice laden with satisfaction, was the sweetest sound I'd ever heard.
With a final kiss to her inner thigh, I slid up next to her, pulling her into my arms. Her body was limp, sated exhaustion rolling off of her in waves that soon gave way to sleep. I held her close, nuzzling into her dark hair and breathing her in.
“Sleep, love,” I murmured softly. “I’ve got you.”
“Wait. What about you?”
“I’ll live,” I said.
Her dark eyes looked up at me, glazed with satisfaction, but tinted with concern. "You sure?" She asked, her fingers tracing a lazy circle on my chest.
I nodded, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Positive."
She closed her eyes, started to drift off to sleep. I wanted to fuck her—I always wanted her. But I was already exhausted and not having full use my of legs certainly made things more difficult for me. Even in bed.
But the truth was, it wasn’t about me. It never was. From the moment she walked into my life, it was always about Adriana.
She had been through so much – our losses, our fears, the burden of her pregnancy while navigating through the perilous waters of our world. She was incredibly strong, yet so impossibly soft underneath. I wanted to make her feel cherished, loved and adored in every possible way. And if that meant putting my own satisfaction on hold for a while, then so be it.
But maybe…maybe now that we were here, everything would be okay.
As long as our past didn’t come looking for us in Delaware, I was almost sure we were safe.