34. Tristan
Chapter thirty-four
Tristan
She has just said, “Tell me about this Sebastian Ashcroft.”
I look at her hand.
Small. Human. Ink-stained at the side of one finger from her notebook. A living woman seated in my breakfast room, exhausted and betrayed, demanding intelligence on one of the most dangerous vampires in Europe because she has decided not to run.
At least not yet.
I want to kiss her hand.
I want to kneel.
I want to tear Ashcroft apart for daring to put her name anywhere near his ambition.
Instead, I pour her more coffee.
"Sebastian Ashcroft," I say, "is smooth, modern and charming."
Piper grimaces.
"Already hate him."
"He’s intelligent and patient when he wants to wait for something. Otherwise, impatient.” I take a breath. "And very dangerous."
She lifts the mug, eyes on mine over the rim.
"Then start there."