Chapter 6 Desire
Tristan
A click of the bathroom door only feet from where he slept roused Tristan from his light sleep. His eyes fluttered open, blinked at the brightness and closed again. He felt unprepared to face the day after a restless night in which Natalie's face haunted his waking and sleeping moments.
He heard the door again but didn't move. It wasn't like he was pretending to be asleep, not exactly, but honestly, he wasn't prepared to face Cade either.
His housemate was an enigma. He clearly didn't like to talk about himself, which Tristan initially attributed to his line of work. But after yesterday's baseball conversation, he suspected the other man's reluctance to share went deeper than protecting his job-related secrets.
Cade was fascinating and complicated, and Tristan was hooked on dissecting him. He wanted to get to know him, to find out why he stopped playing baseball, to hear why his parents didn't care that he dropped out of school, to learn how he became an assassin at seventeen.
Maybe it was the reporter in him or his naturally inquisitive nature that drove him to understand the other man.
Or maybe it was the man himself that he desperately wanted to know — in more ways than one.
The cracks and thumps coming from outside sparked Tristan's curiosity enough for him to get out of bed.
Straightening his twisted shirt and boxers and stepping over the bedding that had fallen to the floor, he moved toward the window to see what was happening.
He found Cade chopping wood, which surprised him since large piles were already stacked near the fireplace and outside.
But he was not about to complain. Not one bit. Because Cade was mesmerizing like this, powerful and dangerous and deadly.
Tristan couldn't tear his eyes away.
He held his breath as he watched the shirtless man bring down the ax, again and again, his back glistening with sweat, his muscles flexing and rippling with each swing.
The large chest tattoo wrapped around to cover his shoulder blade, and the ink shifted and shimmered in the sunlight, making the whole image intense and sexy as hell.
Desire pooled in Tristan's gut, and blood rushed to his dick when he imagined Cade's body pressed to his, how solid it would feel, how strong the embrace would be.
His breath came quicker as his thoughts delved too far into the fantasy.
He leaned against the window frame, one arm above his head, his eyes glued to Cade's form as he imagined running his hands over those hard ridges of muscle, tracing the lines of ink with his fingertip, being pressed against a wall with a knee between his legs and kissed until there was no more breath in his lungs.
When Cade turned to wipe his face with his discarded shirt, they locked eyes, and Tristan straightened, stunned and embarrassed.
He'd been caught but couldn't bear to look away.
He had no idea how long they stared at each other, but those few seconds felt like a lifetime, and in that stretch, he admitted he wanted this man more desperately than he had ever wanted anyone.
Cade broke eye contact first, and when he went back to chopping, Tristan let out a whooshing breath and stepped away from the window. Shaking his head to clear his addled brain, he headed toward the sofa.
Sure, it had been a while since he'd been with anyone, and Cade was the poster boy for temptation, but when his eyes landed on the laptop, all those sexy thoughts dissipated.
He had to find his sister.
He would search more today, though his ideas were drying up. He wished Annabeth would give him something productive to do, but if a hacker running programs on the dark web couldn't find clues, what could he do with a laptop and a search engine?
Pushing away those defeatist thoughts and vowing to do everything he could, Tristan opened the laptop. He didn't know what he'd search for, but he'd figure it out. His baby sister was counting on him.
He started with research papers about sex trafficking, hoping that something would spark an idea or give him a new angle to pursue.
Wading through articles in Google Scholar was intense and ultimately not very helpful, but he kept looking, trying different search terms to see if anything stood out about how these rings or their victims were found.
His attention was laser-focused on the screen until Cade came back into the cabin.
Tristan turned to greet him but wished he hadn't.
Cade was still shirtless.
Gulping, Tristan quickly swiveled back to the screen and silently chanted, I'm fine, it's fine, everything is fine.
After a shower, Cade came out in a blue t-shirt that strained to circle his biceps and stuck to his skin like paint.
When Tristan's eyes trailed down to the gray sweatpants he wore, he stopped breathing.
The outline of Cade's dick featured prominently through the thin fabric, which was either the universe's greatest gift or hell's worst curse.
It was anyone's guess.
Oh, god, Tristan thought, tearing his eyes from the bulge. They swung back to the computer screen, but he momentarily forgot how to read or type.
He rationalized that he was a perfectly healthy twenty-five-year-old gay man confronted with a gorgeous guy, so this was just a normal, physical reaction.
Yes, just plain old, normal attraction.
Some rational corner of Tristan's brain cautioned that he should probably not be this hot for someone who unalived people, but another voice piped up to remind him this man only killed predators, had saved his life twice, and had agreed to help him find his sister, so it wasn't like Cade was a true bad guy.
His actions might be illegal, but that didn't make them morally wrong.
Tristan had realized yesterday in the woods that he and Cade were much alike, wanting to do good, to make things right, to prevent people from suffering, so who was he to judge the other man's methods when the end result was less evil in the world?
The end justifies the means: he hadn't believed that when he studied philosophy in college, but back then, he also had been sheltered and unaware of the depths of depravity people were capable of.
Now it seemed to him that Cade's approach was the only way to deal with these monsters who continued to inflict harm and elude authorities.
So, did he have an issue with Cade's job? No, not anymore.
Having set aside any lingering doubts about morality, Tristan was able to admit that given the chance, he would jump on Cade, or under him, or honestly, wherever the other man wanted. But he wasn't at all sure if Cade was interested in him, too.
Cade's response to Tristan accidentally flashing him popped back into his mind, and he tried again to decide if he had imagined the look in the other man's eyes.
But Cade was not exactly expressive or forthcoming about his feelings, and when Tristan had purposefully brushed against him a few times, looking for a reaction, he had only observed the other man being slightly distracted, hardly enough evidence to draw any sort of conclusions.
Yet.
Chewing absently on his lip, he realized he'd been frozen in place with his fingers poised over the keyboard, his leg bouncing nervously. He cleared his throat, stilled his leg, and started to type, trying his best to focus on the screen.
Cade continued to the kitchen to get a banana and a Coke, then plunked down next to him on the sofa. Tristan wished he hadn't glanced over just as the other man's mouth closed around the banana.
Oh hell.
Snapping his eyes back to the screen, Tristan studied the search results and even managed to click on a few articles, but though the words scrolled past his line of vision, he hadn't registered any of them with the other man this close.
An awkward silence dragged on with Cade scrolling on his phone and Tristan struggling to focus on the research, his unease ratcheting up as each wordless minute ticked by.
Finally, he couldn't stand it any longer.
"I'm sorry I watched you!" he yelped too loudly for their proximity.
"What?"
"I was watching you before, from the window."
"I know," Cade answered after a brief pause.
"It was creepy, I'm sorry."
Cade avoided his eyes, and Tristan had no idea what that meant. Did he think it was weird that he had watched him? Invasive? Did he believe Tristan should be embarrassed, or was he the one feeling self-conscious and uncomfortable?
Or, he wondered as he caught the faint pink color on the other man's cheeks, could it be possible that he had liked Tristan's eyes on him? That possibility seemed too good to be true, but now that the idea had implanted in his brain, he wasn't sure he could shake it.
To redirect his thoughts, he asked, "Why were you chopping anyway? There's plenty of firewood already."
"Just needed to do something. I'm not used to sitting around so much."
Cade didn't meet his eyes as he answered, and Tristan sensed diversion. Again.
But at least he hadn't shrugged. That was getting annoying.
"Any updates from Annabeth?"
"Nope. Sorry."
"Ask her if there's anything I can do to help."
Cade's face turned a bit sour, but he tapped something into his phone.
"She says no thanks."
"Ask her if she's extended the search area, like I suggested."
Rolling his eyes, Cade dutifully typed out the message. Almost immediately, he reported, "Yes."
"Ask her if …"
"Tristan, I know you're trying to help, but Annabeth is really good. I'm sure she's got it covered."
"Fine," Tristan relented, dropping his head and feeling the frustration and helplessness blanket him until he couldn't breathe in the stale, heavy air of the cabin.
He stood abruptly. "I'm going to take another walk in the woods."
He headed toward the door, not bothering to see if Cade followed him. Once outside in the midday sun, he paused to breathe deeply, to inhale the autumn air, to angle his face to the sky, close his eyes, and feel the warmth touch his skin.
To pray to gods he wasn't sure existed.
Please let us find her.