Chapter 8
Nate
My mouth is so dry.
I stretch and twist my lower body until I lie prone in the middle of my bed, eyes fixed on the lamp above.
A brief glance left and right confirms that I’m alone, that I likely only dreamt of the charming knight who dueled Richie to defend my honor, and that I must have drunk way too much last night.
My head hurts whenever I move, but the sole cure is hydration, so I make myself roll closer to the edge of the mattress and reach for the water bottle. It’s lukewarm, and I would have liked it better with lemon slices, but beggars can’t be choosers.
I roll my shoulders to relieve some of the tension in my muscles and place my feet on the floor. My clothes are scattered close by, even the fancy velvet cape, but then my gaze settles on a pauldron of dark metal, and some water drizzles down my chin, because—what? Am I still drunk?
I am definitely on my own. And naked. I glance down my body, and my cheeks heat up when I spot a hickey on my pec.
Would my knight in shining armor have just left his costume behind?
As soon as I think ‘costume’, I’m reminded of the unnatural phenomena he presented to me last night as proof of him coming from a real-life fantasy world.
And while I might not be the chosen one, apparently my human shadow is special enough to warrant my move to the Nightmare Realm.
I freeze at the sound of voices beyond my door. But as soon as Tristan’s rich baritone reaches my ears, I frantically wrap myself in a sheet and glue my ear to the door with my heart pounding.
Something sizzles, so maybe Viola’s making breakfast? But before I can step away from the door and regroup, she speaks, making my blood boil.
“Don’t think I won’t have my eyes on you at all times. Nate can act all cool, but deep down he’s very sensitive, and if you plan to toy with him, I am going to make your life hell.”
Nausea crawls up my throat, because the last thing I need is her instilling in Tristan’s head that I’m some delicate flower in need of constant care. I press down the door handle and burst into the hallway, heading straight for our small but bright kitchen.
“Ha. Ha. Very funny,” I say, shoving one side of the sheet over my shoulder so it creates an impromptu toga.
Viola smiles at me. “Finally up then? And there’s nothing funny about my protective instincts. Everyone knows you’re a softie, Nate. Might as well embrace it.”
It’s hard to focus on an answer when Tristan is standing by the kitchen island shirtless.
At least the shadowy eels are no longer moving.
Maybe that was a figment of my imagination after all?
His long red hair is damp, so he must have taken a shower, and the leather pants fit him so snugly I’m not sure they’re appropriate to wear outside of a nightclub.
When our eyes meet, he smiles so warmly my heart melts. “Nate! I didn’t have the heart to wake you up, but Viola took good care of me.”
He seems genuinely excited to see me.
This shouldn’t make me so happy. Haven’t I just broken up with a man I thought I was in love with? It’s too early to reinvest my feelings into someone else, especially a man so handsome he will likely drop me for someone better within the fortnight.
Nobody likes a clingy guy. I’ve learned this many, many times, and when I think back to last night, I’m afraid that getting my heart broken by him might be something I would never recover from.
“And she is talking too much. I have nothing against hookups.”
I said this many times and meant it never.
“‘Hook… ups’…?” Tristan repeats, and behind him, Viola winks at me.
“You need to explain words like that to Prince Tristan. He’s from the Nightmare Realm after all.”
I roll my eyes at her, but Tristan leans forward, cocking his head with interest. Wow.
“Just… an adventure that lasts a single night,” I mutter, watching Viola slide an omelette onto a plate.
“Well, ours will last much longer,” Tristan says with unshakable confidence. “Viola told me you love these with your breakfast?” He picks up an avocado from a basket of vegetables and to my horror, bites into it as if it’s an apple.
Viola gasps, covering her mouth.
“Hm. N-not great,” he mumbles with his mouth full. “Like Fool’s Apple.”
“Because that’s not how you eat it,” I yelp and take the fruit out of his hand. At least this way I don’t have to address what he said about our hookup lasting much longer. Because he must be fucking with me.
If love at first sight is a thing at all, it does not happen to guys like me.
I grab a paper towel and put it under his mouth like he’s a puppy that ate what he shouldn’t. “Go on, spit it out, it’s okay.”
Tristan hesitates for a moment but then takes the paper towel from me and turns around to dispose of the half-chewed avocado. “Thanks, I… it’s not intuitive.”
Viola bites back a laugh as she halves the big omelette and shoves one part onto a separate plate.
I grab a small chopping board and cut the avocado into slices while Tristan watches the process over my shoulder.
Next, in goes a tomato, and a small chunk of red pepper, and by the time I put the plate in front of him, I’m quite proud of myself.
“Now, try it with the vegetables and egg.”
He slides his hand to my waist and strokes me with a pleased expression that sends shivers up my thighs.
“You’re spoiling me,” he says as he packs the omelette into his mouth.
He approaches the avocado with understandable mistrust but eventually eats it too.
The satisfied murmur he lets out is all the prize I need.
“Very creamy,” Tristan adds once he swallows.
Viola glances at me and I only realize what she’s doing when there’s a jar in Tristan’s hands.
And not just any jar, it’s the jar. Pickles she got from her mom when she first moved in.
It’s sealed so tightly no one’s been able to open it so far.
We could have just used a tool, but that would have been too easy.
Instead, we’ve agreed to hand it to any man who comes through our doors for a secret test only we understand.
The one who manages to unscrew the lid is superior marriage material.
“Hey, Tristan, do you think you can open this for me?” she asks innocently as my heart stops beating altogether.
He smiles while still chewing his food, then twists off the lid as easily as if it hadn’t been sealed in the first place. The loud click of metal makes me stiffen in mild arousal.
Surely, that is not a normal reaction, but what can I do?
I’m only human.
“Wow, you are so strong,” Viola says, grinning at me from behind Tristan. “Maybe you could move our washing machine too? We’ve had some problems with it, and I need to reach to the pipe in the back…”
Tristan sits ever taller in the bar stool by the counter. “I most definitely can. Especially after such a hearty breakfast.”
If he really is who he says he is, he has no idea what a washing machine is, so I have to admire his confidence. Viola grabs a pickle from the jar and extends it to me with a knowing smile. Ridiculous. I’m not putting my life on the line because of a jar prophecy.
A sudden flurry of whimpers grabs our attention, and it takes me a second to remember I’m now fostering a puppy. Lady waddles toward me so fast she falls over on the tiles.
“Well, hello,” I chirp, sinking to my haunches as the little rottie approaches me, swung left and right by her own tail.
“Looking good today. Did you have fun with Auntie Viola?” I ask, picking up her pudgy form.
The puppy’s warm tongue rolls over my chin, and I laugh, turning to face Tristan. “What about her? Do you remember?”
“Oh yes! The pup!” Tristan says excitedly, reaching for Lady with his hand. “Just look at it. No spikes, no horns, baby teeth, and I will go out on a limb and assume no venom either?”
Viola laughs. “The only flaw is how she’s still not trained to pee in the right place.”
“You can teach them that?” Tristan asks in amazement. “My friend has a bat, and he’s not yet been successful in these matters.”
I frown. “Bats aren’t domesticated…”
Tristan shrugs. “Well, he’s the husband of the Lord of the Nocturne Court, so the fiend is flying around in a diaper.”
I scowl, unsure what to think of that, but when Lady pushes her soft muzzle against my neck, I pat her side and approach Tristan so he can pet her with more ease.
“Dogs are extremely intelligent. You can also train them to help with hunts, fetch things, and alert people of anything from narcotics to low blood sugar.”
Tristan is so mesmerized with my every word I feel my cheeks heat up, but it’s Viola who speaks.
“So what I’m hearing is that at this Nocturne Court men can marry each other.”
She’s saying this for my benefit. A silent ‘go for it, Nate’ when I need to keep this thing cool and casual. So what if he opened the jar and made me come last night? Just because he’s ‘marriage material’ doesn’t mean he will be my husband.
“Well, yes,” Tristan says, letting Lady play with his thumb. “One must follow what the heart desires.” His tone becomes deeper when he says that, and I swear his words are meant for me alone, and that he’s saying I am his heart’s desire.
Which is impossible.
We met yesterday.
Just because I’m a hopeless romantic doesn’t mean I’m naive.
And yet, when he pulls me close, with Lady stuck between us like a baby, I let him, because it feels so good to be treated right for once.
“I don’t yet know if I want to get married.”
Viola snorts. “Don’t listen to that BS, Tristan. Nate wants a big fat ring on his finger, doves released, a vanilla cake, and Lady as the ring bearer.”
I want to hiss at her like a stray cat forced out of its little nest inside a broken car. But Tristan beams at me, as if none of that baggage scares him.
“Let me introduce you to the rest of the Royal Family first.”
That’s it. I’ll die out of embarrassment. “Well, aren’t we doing that later today?” I challenge, because if he is lying to my face, I’d rather know sooner rather than later.