Chapter 23
twenty-three
I would love to say the sight of Tristan affected not a single part of me. Lies. Lies. Lies. He wore a plain black hoodie with jeans and white sneakers. Nothing flashy, and yet he wore it so well. Why couldn’t he look like crap? Just one damn day? He had to be part supernatural. Nobody had the right to look this good without fucking trying unless they’d been injected with vampire DNA. And Tristan could definitely pass as one of the Night’s children. It took me longer than I’d admit to catch my breath. “What are you doing here?” I asked, unable to contain my surprise at seeing him.
Tristan’s eyes narrowed, moving away from Brody, and he turned on me. “You need a new phone.”
He held it out for me, and I dragged my gaze from his chiseled face. The screen was shattered to smithereens.
Fuck me.
I took the useless device, realizing my position, stuck in the middle of Brody and Tristan. Biting back my frustration, I felt bad for Brody. He didn’t ask to constantly be faced with one Malone after the other. I wouldn’t blame him if he never spoke to me again. It would probably be wise if he didn’t. Exhaling, I clutched the phone between my fingers. “It’s fine. Whatever. I’ll take care of it later. What do you want?” I asked my neighbor.
Tristan’s focus shifted to Brody, and a chill tiptoed down my spine at the hostility surfacing on his features. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but there’s no chance. We’re sleeping together,” he told Brody without batting an eye.
My mouth dropped open. I couldn’t believe his open rudeness. Then again, I could. “Tristan!” I shrieked. “What the hell is wrong with you?” I spun to Brody, a mortified apologetic expression on my face. “I’m sorry. I wish I could say I didn’t know him.”
“Everyone knows Malone.” The way Brody said it he made it sound like being known around campus was a bad thing. Or perhaps my being associated with Tristan left a sour taste in his mouth. Tristan had a reputation. This wasn’t news to me.
Tristan’s dark brow arched at Brody over my head. “Then we understand each other.”
A look passed between them, and I didn’t particularly like being wedged between them.
Understood what?
I felt like I’d been plunged into a pool of dark cluelessness.
“Everly, are you okay?” Brody asked, lowering his tone, not that it helped. Tristan heard him regardless.
I didn’t see it as much as I felt Tristan’s condescending smirk spread on his lips.
“I’m fine,” I insisted. “Unfortunately, this asshole is my neighbor. I’ve known him my whole life.” It just occurred to me that if Brody knew Tristan he probably knew Preston. And Tristan, like the jackass he was, divulged my dirty secret by revealing I’d slept with my ex-boyfriend’s brother.
Color bloomed in my cheeks.
Damn him.
When Tristan and I didn’t have an audience, I would unleash thirteen different forms of hell on him for embarrassing me.
“You heard it out of her mouth. She’s good, bro ,” Tristan added in a mocking frat boy voice. Nothing about Tristan gave the impression of fraternity. It would have been laughable if my blood wasn’t boiling.
Brody took a step closer to me, the heat from his body pressing into my side. “I’m not sure she is.”
Tristan’s turbulent ocean eyes turned into a stormy night. “It’s cute you’re concerned.”
Brody bristled at my side. I had to intervene before shit went sideways, and the only way I could see to prevent testosterone from winning over common sense was to remove one of them from the situation.
Cursing Tristan under my breath, I grabbed the prick’s hand. His fingers locked securely around mine in a clearly possessive message.
What the actual fuck?
I didn’t understand what was happening. This was so very unlike Tristan’s behavior. He shot me a warning glare that told me to rethink making a scene.
Capturing Brody’s eyes, I stepped away from him and closer to Tristan. “I’m seriously fine, but I need to deal with him.”
I could tell Brody had more to say, but he kept his calm composure impressively. I couldn’t retain such a demeanor, not with Tristan. It was obvious Brody would never talk to me again, and I had the overbearing jerk to thank.
Like a smug lion, Tristan pulled me down the path leaving Brody looking unsettled as he stared after us.
Once we went around the corner of the bookstore, I yanked my hand out from his and shoved the jerk in the chest, appalled by his behavior. Tristan barely budged, which infuriated me more. My hand raised, palm in line with his cheek.
Tristan captured my wrist in the air. “There are other ways to get your hands on me, Shortcake.”
“You are fucking maddening. What do you want, Tristan?”
He retained his grasp on my wrist but brought our arms down so it looked like we could be holding hands except he was actually hauling me around campus. “I don’t like him.”
I slid him a sideways, confused glower. “Brody?”
“The coffee shop guy,” he snarled, his long legs eating up the sidewalk.
I had to double my efforts to keep up with him or risk getting dragged. “You don’t even know him.”
Two girls whispered as they walked past, and I wasn’t sure if it was because of Tristan or because he hadn’t let go of my hand yet. “I know enough.”
Giving them a dirty look, I dug my heels in and halted. Tristan kept going, which nearly yanked my arm out of its socket. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I demanded.
He finally got a clue and stopped, facing me. “It means nothing, Shortcake. Why did we stop?”
I ignored his question and went back to what he tried to skate over. Brody. “Why do I get that nothing is actually something?”
Tristan shoved a hand into his hair, the tension in his shoulder slipping. “No one is that clean.”
I fumbled with my broken phone while trying to decipher just what the fuck that meant. Did he know something about Brody I didn’t? Did it matter if he did? “Just leave him alone. He doesn’t need you fucking up his life.”
“He likes you.”
“It’s not a crime to like me,” I returned, walking again. We weren’t far from Thorn Hall. Just a few buildings.
“A little soon to be dating, don’t you think?”
“I slept with you the same night,” I snappily reminded him.
An odd expression twisted over his features. “Have you heard from my brother?”
I nodded, an uneasy knot tangling into my stomach. “He’s left me a range of interesting and often colorful messages. You?” That had been toning it down. The text and voicemails over the last few days were mostly Preston furious and ugly, calling me every filthy name he could conjure. The usual shaming. Slut. Whore. Cunt. Bitch. All unoriginal. And the next message would be him crying, begging for my forgiveness. It couldn’t be clearer from the messages that Preston was falling apart. I don’t think a single one had been left sober. He was the definition of unhinged, and I was starting to think there might be something to be concerned about.
“I bailed him out last night,” Tristan stated flatly.
I blinked, processing. Preston? In jail? I couldn’t fathom it. Tristan, on the other hand, looked like he spent his weekends in the joint but not his brother. “Bailed him out,” I repeated. “Like from jail?” I glanced at him, taking note of the exhaustion under his eyes I hadn’t noticed before.
“One and the same, Shortcake. What did your messages say?” he asked.
I went through my memories to recall if Preston had called or texted last night. Then I remembered I’d turned my phone off because I’d needed a decent night of sleep without the damn thing going off at all hours. “I would let you read them, but my phone is kind of inoperative at the moment.”
His hand went to the back of his neck and massaged. “Convenient.”
If it wasn’t for the phone in my hand, I might have reached out to touch him. The urge was there before I recognized it, to offer him support when it was obvious he was struggling. “If you’re suggesting I broke my phone on purpose, you can fuck off the nearest cliff,” I snapped, more irritated with myself than him.
I didn’t want to be pulled by him, not when I was doing everything in my power to keep this casual between us.
Tristan chuckled, and I hated what the husky sound did to my insides. “Colorful.”
“Why did you tell me? Did Preston ask?—”
“No,” he interrupted. “The only reason he called me was because I was the only one who answered when he needed money. He couldn’t very well call our parents.” It bothered Tristan that Preston was icing him out, but it was so like Preston to use his brother when it was convenient for him.
I shouldn’t feel sympathetic for Tristan…and yet my heart wavered in his direction. “So you were an asshole to Brody for no reason.”
He shrugged, taking my bag from me and slinging it over his shoulder. He didn’t seem to care about the pink details stitched into the dark gray fabric. Not like Preston would have. “I had my reasons,” he muttered.
“Aren’t you supposed to be avoiding me or something? Scoping out your next victim?” We took a left, and I spotted Thorn Hall ahead.
“I am.” Something in his eyes bothered me. And I couldn’t tell if he was affirming that he was avoiding me or scoping out the next pretty girl to hook up with. Or both, but the way his eyes lingered over my body made me feel as if both parts of the equation pointed to me.
“I’m not your next victim. You said it yourself. What happened between us was meaningless. Just sex,” I threw his words back at him.
Tristan opened the door to our building, waiting for me to walk through. “I never said it was meaningless, Shortcake. But things have changed. What I want doesn’t matter.”
“What’s changed?” I demanded, frustration sharpening my words as I entered the building, turning around to walk backward so I could see him. “What are you hiding? Why won’t you tell me what’s happening? Are you in trouble? Is Preston in trouble?”
The door swung closed behind him as he strutted toward me. “All you need to know is that I’ll take care of it. I won’t involve you, but I’ll be damn sure you’re safe.”
My gaze narrowed. “Is that what you call this? Keeping me safe?” I snorted. My back hit the wall.
Tristan reached around me and hit the elevator recall button, but instead of pulling away, he remained in my personal space. Our noses nearly brushed as he leaned in. “ I’m a hell of a lot nicer than the alternative, and that says something, Shortcake.”
I averted my gaze, choosing to stare at his chin than anywhere else. It was the only safe spot on his face that wasn’t deemed hazardous to my heart, but somehow even the sharp angles of his chin were sexy. “Tristan, I don’t have time for this.” I sighed, dipping down in an attempt to crawl under his arm.
He grabbed my elbow before I could escape. “Make time,” he gritted, dragging me into the elevator.
An enclosed box alone with Tristan equaled danger zone.
I whirled, my hair spinning out like a hand fan opening. “You won’t tell me what’s going on? So, what do you want from me?”
Brows furrowed. “I don’t know. And that’s the problem. But avoiding me is no longer an option. We’re going to be spending so much damn time together that you’re going to be sick of seeing my face.”
Doubtful. But I kept the commentary to myself, which I was proud of, considering the high levels of frustration burning through my blood. I didn’t know what came over me. Suddenly, I was moving closer to Tristan. “And how are you going to handle seeing me so much?” I tipped my head back, my eyes flicking to the hoop shining at the corner of his mouth. “Who is going to protect you from me?”
It was his turn to be pressed against the wall. “Ever,” he growled, and the use of my name told me I was getting to him, just as I wanted.
The elevator doors glided shut, but neither of us moved to hit floor number three. “If you wanted to see me, Tristan, you could have just said so. You didn’t need to make up an excuse or use Preston.”
“You have no idea what you’re playing at.” His tone grew rough, and somehow, I liked it more.
“Show me.” My tongue darted over my lips, knowing Tristan watched my every move and it would draw his attention to my mouth.
He’d toyed with me for the last time. He deserved to have a taste of his own medicine. The plan was simple. As soon as he moved in to kiss me, I’d turn my cheek, denying him. Then a quick knee in the nuts.
My plan to snub him went immediately to shit.
I hadn’t anticipated Tristan stroking my bottom lip with the pad of his thumb or dragging it down so my lips slightly parted. I hadn’t foreseen him capturing my eyes with his dark, smoldering gaze or how every inch of me instantly flushed.
Just when I thought I gained the upper hand, even by an inch, Tristan swept the floor out from under me.
His fingers drifted to my chin, tipping my head back, and then he kissed me.
I hadn’t intended to answer Tristan’s kiss with such fervor, but once his lips touched mine, reasonable and rational thoughts stopped existing. Hell, the world stopped breathing. Or maybe it was just me. He stole the air from my lungs.
I caved, sinking into him…into the kiss.
My arms snaked around his neck as his hands landed on my waist, tugging me against him. Hungry didn’t do Tristan’s lips justice. He kissed me like a man who had been deprived for months, seeking, demanding, and exploring my mouth, his tongue dancing softly with mine.
His fingers moved to my hair, pulling out the scrunchie and sending my blonde strands tumbling down my back. “I love this fucking hair,” he rasped in a voice that taunted my dreams.
The cool steel of his lip ring grazed the corner of my mouth. How the hell did I find myself once again in Tristan’s arms completely at his mercy and willing to give him anything he asked for if only he kept kissing me?
I lifted higher on my toes, taking his lips again. Once was never enough. Not with him. The elevator might have been moving, or perhaps I was floating. I couldn’t tell, and I was too overwhelmed with Tristan to care.
Someone cleared their throat. I sprang apart from Tristan, my eyes colliding with Sam’s. I blinked, grasping my bearings, but it took more than a few seconds to remember where I was and how I got here.
She had her arms folded, a knowing smirk on her lips.
“This isn’t what it looks like,” I grumbled, stepping out of the elevator and brushing past my friend. I didn’t look to see if Tristan followed. I didn’t have to. Not when I sensed his presence on my heels like a cool shadow. I could still feel his lips on mine. They tingled from his kiss.
“It never is with the two of you,” she called after me. “We’re going to talk later.”
I turned around and nearly planted my nose into Tristan’s chest. Huffing, I glanced around the man and saw the elevator doors close with my best friend inside.
I straightened and glanced up, confusion ribboning within me. “What are we doing?”
His eyes still tinged with desire studied my face. A shiver pranced along the back of my neck. “Ever, I—” His entire body stiffened as his head angled to the side like he heard something and was listening.
“Tristan,” I hissed. I opened my mouth to ask him what was wrong, but his finger pressed to my lips, silencing me.
He shook his head, his fingers weaving through mine. Before I had the chance to feel anything, Tristan yanked me to the nearest room. Sam’s. I saw a flash of a key card, and then the lock clicked open, and we were inside. He softly pressed the door closed so it barely made any sound.
Not a muscle moved as he glowered at the door, waiting for what? Or who might be the better question. His fingers tightened in mine, and I was afraid to breathe. Seconds passed, and the demand for answers sat on the tip of my tongue when I heard it.
Footsteps.
They were coming down the hall. Heavy boots if I had to guess.
Tristan backed away from the door, his eyes capturing mine. They narrowed, and I got the message. Don’t make a sound.
Who was in the hallway? Why were we hiding? And why did Tristan look worried?
He rarely wore the face he did now, and seeing his expression made my arms prickle with uneasiness. My heart pounded in my ears, and I moved closer to Tristan. His arm came around me, keeping me close to his chest. I didn’t move again until I felt the tension leave his body.
Whoever had been in the hall had left.
I gave myself a few moments with the warmth of his body pressing into mine. When I took a breath this time, I filled my lungs and expelled the air long and slowly. I backed out of his protective embrace, running my hands up and down my arms. “Who was that?”
The corners of his mouth hardened as did the depths of his eyes. “Someone you never want to meet.”
A rush of unknowns sprinted through my mind, and I unleashed the ones that stuck out upon Tristan. “How did they get in the building? And how the fuck do you have a key to Sam’s room?” I badgered.
He remained unphased by my observations. “I also have a key to your place if it makes you feel better.”
“Trust me. It doesn’t. Why didn’t we go there or to your room?”
He went to the door and opened it, peeking into the hall. “Because those are the first places they would look.”
“Who?” I asked, creeping up behind him.
Those piercing blue eyes ensnared mine over his shoulder. “People who want to hurt you.”
I followed him into the hallway. “Me?” I swallowed, my throat constricting. “Why would anyone want to hurt me?” I thought back to the first week on campus. The weird threat. The guys in the ally. They’d been looking for Tristan. “What did you do now?” I accused because this being Tristan’s fault was the only thing that made any sense to me.
I wasn’t a criminal.
I couldn’t have possibly wronged someone enough for them to want to hurt me unless forgetting to return my library book was considered criminal. Then I’d be guilty on several accounts.
He shook his head, a salty scoff breezing through his nose. “It doesn’t matter. You’re not safe here. We need to go until I can deal with this.”
We were in front of my door. I was half tempted to wait and see if he would produce his key card to open my room. “Go where? I have classes tomorrow. I can’t just leave.”
Frowning, he waited, not patiently either. “You can. And you will if you value your life.”
My hands trembled slightly as I pulled out my key card and inserted it into the slot. “Tristan, you’re starting to scare me.”
The man had no empathy. He swung my door open and ushered me inside. “Good. I want you to be scared. We can stay at a hotel nearby, and I’ll drive to school.”
Everything was happening so damn fast. “We? You’re staying with me?”
Setting my bag down on the floor, he kicked my door shut. “I told you. I’m not leaving you alone.”
“For how long?” I pressed, my mind processing at a slug’s pace.
His eyes swept over my room. He’d only been inside once before, but that had been in the middle of the night when I’d had one of my famous nightmares. “Until I figure out how to fix this fucking mess,” he said.
Was he talking days? Weeks? Months? He was uprooting my entire life yet wouldn’t give me any information. I was supposed to blindly trust him. Oddly, something inside me told me to go. “What about Sam? I can’t leave her here.”
“She’s not in any danger. It’s you they are looking for.”
“This is absurd. I haven’t done anything.” I narrowed my gaze on him. “What have you gotten yourself mixed up in?”
“Pack a bag, and make it quick. We need to go. Don’t let anyone in. I’ll be back in ten, and you better be ready.” After unloading a slew of orders, Tristan slipped back into the hallway, leaving me alone with my scrambling thoughts.
Fuck me.
I scrubbed a hand over my face and did what he said, tossing random clothes, shit from the bathroom, and my laptop into a bag. The severity of the situation breathed down my neck, and the worst part was I didn’t even know why I was running. This wasn’t just absurd. It was fucking crazy.
True to his word, Tristan darkened my doorway ten minutes later. He snatched my packed bag from the floor, the black tee he’d changed into lifting slightly and flashing part of the tattoo on his lower back as well as something that resembled…a gun?
Holy. Shit.
It didn’t just resemble a weapon. It was one. And it looked very real. Nothing like the mace or taser Sam carried. The charcoal steel was tucked into his waistband. Tristan’s brows lifted in my direction. “Ready?”
No. I wasn’t fucking ready. But what choice did I have? “Why do you have a gun?” I asked, my eyes darting up to his eyes.
Firm lines of seriousness crinkled at the corners. “Protection, Shortcake. The people we’re dealing with won’t ask nicely. They won’t ask at all.”
Of course, they wouldn’t.