35
Tristan
Unbeknownst to me, there’s an entire subgenre of romance novels entirely devoted to werewolves.
I’m sitting in the library with Mittens on my lap and a cup of tea steaming on the side table, entirely engrossed in one of Demi’s books, trying to wrap my head around the notion of “knotting.” Honestly, good for them.
For the first time in half a century, I feel content.
I’m alive. Alive . I can taste and feel.
I’m seen. And I’m living with the most beautiful and clever woman that I couldn’t have dreamed up even in my wildest fantasies.
To touch her is a miracle, to be in her presence is like coming home after being away for a very, very long time.
Before Demi came into my life, I was resigned to an eternity of loneliness. The world outside my doors passed like vapor, time simultaneously moving too quickly and stretching on and on into infinite nothingness. It wasn’t bad , it just wasn’t life .
Now, thanks to Demi, I am living. I am real again.
I hear tires crunching over the gravel in the driveway out front, and Mittens bounds off my lap toward the sound. I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face as I slip a bookmark between the pages and follow the cat downstairs to the foyer.
My girl is home.
As I reach the bottom of the staircase, she’s walking through the door with her sister on her heels .
Shit. I don’t know if Demi is ready to tell her family about me yet, and here I am, the first thing they see when they walk through the door into the house that Blue has no idea is our ?home.
Demi smiles at me, her eyes lighting up when they meet mine. But something about her looks…off. Is she a little pale? Is she sick?
Over her shoulder, Blue levels me with a look that could turn lava to ice. She points a finger at me, then looks at Demi. “Tall guy?” she asks.
I don’t know what that means, or what to do, so I raise my hand in an awkward wave, then shove my hands into my pockets to avoid further humiliation.
Demi’s mouth pinches, and she draws in a deep breath. “Yep. Tall guy.”
“Did you have a little slumber party?”
It’s terrifying, really, the way Blue can tease her sister in a way that appears lighthearted, while looking at me like she might want to claw me to ribbons. I’m concerned that anything I say right now could make things more complicated for Demi, so I keep quiet and let her take the lead.
“Yep, he stayed over,” Demi says benignly.
Blue sets a paper bag on the credenza. “And you just let him hang out here while you were gone?”
“Blue,” Demi says firmly.
The redhead raises her hands in a gesture of peace, but certainly not surrender.
“What? You said the relationship was new.”
“Can you just be cool?”
Blue seems to think it over, and then the rigid set of her shoulders softens a little as she looks at Demi.
She approaches me with her hand outstretched.
“I’m Blue. Demi’s sister.” ????????I take her hand in mine and feel the strength in her fingers as she gives me a solid shake. “Tristan,” I reply.
Something flickers in her eyes, and for a split second, Blue St. James goes terribly still.
We stand there, paused, hands still locked in a firm stalemate.
I can’t tell what she’s thinking, but her cold, careful expression unnerves me.
It’s easy to see why Demi would feel nervous about telling her sister the truth; this kind of scrutiny is incredibly uncomfortable.
Demi makes a noise, a soft groan that draws both Blue’s and my attention to her. Blue releases her grip on my hand, and I take two long strides before I’m at Demi’s side.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, pressing my hand to the middle of her back. I feel her relax into my touch.
“She’s not feeling well,” Blue answers for her.
“I’m fine,” Demi counters, her tone edgy and annoyed. I don’t blame her. I’m starting to feel the same way. “I think I’m coming down with a stomach bug or something.”
“If you still can’t taste anything by tomorrow, you should go to the doctor,” Blue says.
Something about this doesn’t feel right.
“You can’t taste anything?”
Demi looks up at me and shakes her head. I see how hard she’s fighting to seem okay right now, but underneath that, I can tell she’s really not feeling well.
“It’s weird, right?” she asks me.
I nod, my eyebrows knitting together. “It’s weird.”
“Demi, do you want me to hang out for a while?” Blue interjects .
That rankles me. I know Blue is just trying to help, but our strained interaction has me thrown off balance.
I don’t like how overbearing she seems. I don’t like the way she’s looking at me as if she knows all my secrets.
Not to mention, Demi has been stressed about telling her family about me and the spell, afraid of how Blue will react.
I just want Blue to leave so I can take care of Demi.
Before I can stop myself, I say, “I’ve got her.”
My tone must have been harsh because Demi whispers my name like an admonishment, and Blue’s eyes light up from within while a smirk devoid of any playfulness or joy curves the corner of her mouth. It’s like she’s been seeking out an enemy, and I just gave her exactly what she was looking for.
“You’ve got her, huh?” Blue repeats, her voice deadly, low, and quiet.
I fucked up.
“Blue, you have clients this afternoon. I’m just going to try to take a nap, anyway,” Demi chimes in, obviously trying to smooth things over.
Reluctantly, Blue glances at the vintage watch on her wrist and sighs. “You’re right,” she says, taking Demi’s hand and turning slightly to box me out. “Try to get some rest. I’ll call you later. Don’t die.”
Demi smiles. “Yes, chef.”
Blue doesn’t give me a passing glance as she leaves, thank Christ.
After the door closes, Demi raises her eyebrows at me, but there’s amusement in the set of her pretty mouth.
“Okay, Mr. Territorial.”
I wince. “Sorry. That was bad. ”
“You can do the ‘she’s mine’ thing around guys like Owen all day, every day, but it’s probably a bad idea to try that with my sister.”
“Lesson learned.”
“You’re lucky Blue didn’t rip you to shreds.”
“Really? Because the look she gave me was pretty painful.”
“The death glare is child’s play.”
“I’m sorry. Did I just make things even more complicated between you two?”
Demi shakes her head. “Nah. Not between her and me. But you handed her a grudge on a silver platter, and you’re going to have a hell of a time digging out of that one.”
“Noted.”
A sharp inhale hisses through Demi’s teeth, and she presses both hands to her stomach. Protective concern comes at me in a rush, and I wrap my arms around her, leading her to the staircase.
“Let’s get you into bed,” I say.
“How very slutty of you,” she quips back.
Despite her jokes, I can feel the way she’s leaning on me as we make our way upstairs.
She lets me help her out of her sweater and jeans, leaving her in a tank top and panties.
As she slips between the covers I hold open for her on the bed, I caress my knuckles down the length of her bare leg, and I’m surprised by how cool her skin is.
Normally, she’s nothing but soft warmth.
When I climb into bed with her, she turns on her side to face me, and I stroke her cheek with my thumb, cradling her jaw in my hand.
“When did you start to feel sick? ”
“I don’t even feel sick. Not really. I just keep getting these sharp pains in my stomach.”
“Well, when did that start?”
“I took two bites of my burger at lunch, couldn’t taste it, then a minute later, my stomach started to hurt.”
“Your skin is a little cold.” I continue my soft caresses along her cheek, and she looks at me with so much love that it makes me a little dizzy.
I would do anything for this woman. Anything.
“I don’t feel cold,” she snuggles closer with a smile. “In fact, the longer I look at you, the better I feel.”
“Is that so?” I ask, meanwhile, my heart is tripping over itself.
“Mhmm. You’re very nice to look at.”
My gaze dips to her mouth on instinct, and I tenderly drag my thumb across her bottom lip. “You’re very nice to look at, too. You’re so pretty it hurts.”
She feigns an eye roll. “Dramatic.”
“Not dramatic. Just honest.”
Demi reaches out and touches my face, mirroring me. Only, when her hand finds my jaw, I don’t feel it. A sensation not unlike static electricity crawls up my scalp.
“What the fuck—” she curses in a tone I’ve never heard. One that sounds like fear. Demi sits bolt upright and holds her hands out in front of her, turning them over to examine them.
Confusion and anxiety grab hold of me by the spine.
“Demi, what just happened?” I ask, sitting up, inching closer to her.
Frantic, she grabs my hands with hers, and this time I can feel her touch. She squeezes my fingers, my palms, digging her nails into my skin as if to convince herself she’s touching me. When she lifts her chin and meets my gaze, her clear blue eyes are full of horror.
“Tristan, when I touched your face…” she shakes her head, swallows hard, tries again. “I swear to god, my hand passed right through you.”