Chapter 25 Tristan
TRISTAN
The hunting cabin was barely more than four walls and a roof, but it had a fireplace and enough dry wood stacked inside to last the night.
Tristan got the fire going quickly, years of field experience making the process automatic. Flames caught and spread, casting flickering light across rough-hewn walls and a floor covered in ancient dust. He'd found blankets in a chest, musty but intact, and spread them near the hearth.
Maren lay where he'd placed her, still wrapped in his coat, her breathing shallow but steady. Her lips had lost some of their blue tinge, but she remained too pale, too cold.
He stripped off her wet cloak and boots, working efficiently despite the intimacy of the task. Her shadows stirred weakly, not quite defensive but aware of his touch. When he peeled off her shirt and pants due to them being soaked through from snow, they curled around his wrists questioningly.
"Just getting you warm," he said quietly, as if they could understand. "That's all."
He wrapped her in dry blankets and positioned her close to the fire, then set about making the cabin defensible. Checking the shutters, testing the door, creating wards from materials at hand. Basic protection, nothing sophisticated, but enough to buy warning if the mob tracked them here.
By the time he finished, Maren's eyes had opened.
She stared at the fire for a long moment before speaking. "Where are we?"
"Old hunting cabin. About three miles northeast of the lake." Tristan crouched beside her, checking her pupils. "How do you feel?"
"Cold. Confused." She pushed herself upright slowly, blankets falling to her waist. She had her undergarments on, but the firelight painted her skin in shades of gold and shadow. "What happened?"
"You ran from the mob. Made it to the lake before hypothermia set in." He handed her a canteen of water. "Drink. You need to rehydrate."
She obeyed, her hands shaking slightly as she raised the canteen. "I remember the grove. The doppelg?nger attacking. Someone saw and thought I was summoning it." Her voice steadied as memory returned. "Then I ran. Got to the lake and everything went strange."
"Strange how?"
"I had a memory. Or a dream. I'm not sure which." She set down the canteen, her silver eyes focusing on him. "My mother was there. Not really there, but like an echo. She was standing at the lake's edge, and she kept saying 'where the water remembers, where shadows sleep beneath.' Over and over."
"That's what you were mumbling when I found you."
"It felt important. Like she was trying to tell me something." Maren pulled the blankets tighter. "But then everything got fuzzy and I couldn't hold onto it."
"We'll figure it out tomorrow." Tristan stood, needing distance. "You should rest."
"Tomorrow Bram gets his binding or his exile." She looked up at him, firelight making her eyes glow like molten silver. "Tomorrow we're out of time."
"I know."
"And tonight we're alone in a cabin with a mob hunting me and a doppelg?nger that wants me dead." A smile ghosted across her lips, brittle and sharp. "Seems like terrible timing to want you as badly as I do right now."
The words caught him off guard. He couldn’t tell if she was fully coherent yet or in a sleep deprivation stage.
"Maren—"
"I know. Duty. Professionalism. Bad idea." She stood slowly, letting the blankets fall away. Firelight painted shadows across skin he'd already touched once, already tasted, already memorized.
“You’re still out of sorts. You need to rest.”
“I’m done resting,” she insisted. “I know what I want and I’m tired of being treated as if I could break at any moment. I’m done fighting this. I almost died multiple times now. Life is too short.” She stepped closer. "Tell me you don't want this and I'll stop."
He couldn't. The lie wouldn't come.
She crossed to him, barefoot on cold wood, wearing nothing but thin fabric that hid almost nothing. Her shadows moved with her, reaching toward him like they'd already made their choice.
"Tell me," she repeated, close enough now that he could feel her heat.
"I can't."
"Then don't."
She kissed him first this time, rising on her toes to close the gap. Her mouth was warm despite the cold she'd endured, tasting of snow and desperation and need that matched his own.
Tristan's control, already frayed from days of wanting what he shouldn't have, shattered completely.
His hands found her waist, pulling her flush against him. She made a sound against his mouth of hunger and her fingers tangled in his hair. The kiss deepened, turned urgent, became something that felt like claiming.
Her wispy shadows wrapped around them both, creating warmth and darkness and privacy that felt almost sacred. They snaked across his skin like physical touch, sliding beneath his shirt, tracing muscle and scars with curiosity that bordered on reverence.
Tristan yanked his shirt over his head, hissing as the movement pulled at healing wounds. She immediately traced the marks the doppelg?nger had left, her touch gentle despite the heat building between them.
"Does it hurt?"
"Not enough to matter."
She kissed his shoulder, then his collarbone, working her way down his chest while her hands mapped muscle and skin. He stood frozen, letting her explore, his breathing harsh in the quiet cabin.
When her mouth found his nipple, teeth scraping lightly, his hips bucked involuntarily.
"My turn to touch you," she said, looking up through dark lashes. "You had your chance last time. Now I want mine."
Her hand slid down his stomach, finding the waistband of his pants. She paused there, giving him a chance to stop this before it went too far.
He didn't.
She opened his pants then slid her hand inside to wrap around him. The contact sent fire through his veins. He was already hard, had been since she'd stood up wearing almost nothing, but her touch made it almost painful.
"Fuck," he breathed.
"Not yet." She stroked him slowly, learning his length, his shape, what made his breath catch. "But soon."
Tristan caught her wrist, stopping the movement before it destroyed what remained of his control. "If you keep doing that, this ends before it starts."
"Then maybe you should do something about it."
He lifted her easily, carrying her to the blankets spread near the fire. She went willingly, her legs wrapping around his waist, her mouth finding his neck. He laid her down carefully despite the urgency screaming through him, taking a moment just to look.
She was all lean strength and soft curves, her black curls spread across rough wool, her silver eyes watching him with heat and trust and want.
"You're staring," she said.
"You're worth staring at."
He kissed her again, slower this time, tasting and exploring while his hands worked to remove the last barriers between them. Her undergarments came off easily, revealing skin he'd imagined touching more times than he'd admit.
She arched into him when his hand slid between her legs, finding her already wet and ready. He stroked her carefully, watching her face, learning what made her gasp and what made her moan.
"Tristan, please—"
"Please what?"
"Stop teasing." Her hips rolled against his hand, seeking more pressure, more friction. "I want you."
"You have me."
He slid one finger inside her, then two, feeling her tighten around him. Her head fell back, revealing the long line of her throat. He kissed it while working her with his hand, building heat and pressure until she was shaking beneath him.
"I'm going to—" she started.
"Then do it."
She came with his name on her breath, her body tightening around his fingers, her shadows flaring bright enough to light the entire cabin. He worked her through it, bringing out the pleasure until she pushed his hand away with a breathless laugh.
"Your turn," she said, reaching for him.
Tristan caught her wrist again. "Not yet. I want to taste you first."
Her eyes widened but she nodded, letting him position himself between her legs. He kissed up her thigh, taking his time, feeling her tremble with aftershocks and renewed anticipation.
When his mouth found her center, she made a sound that went right to his cock. He explored her with tongue and lips, learning what she liked, what made her hands fist in his hair and her hips buck against his face.
He brought her to the edge again, then pushed her over with fingers and mouth working together. She shattered beautifully, her whole body tensing before releasing in waves he could feel and taste.
By the time he crawled back up her body, she was flushed and breathing hard and looking at him like he'd given her something precious.
"I need you inside me," she said. "Now."
Tristan kicked off his remaining clothes and settled between her thighs. His cock pressed against her entrance, slick and ready, and it took every ounce of control not to just thrust home.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
"I've never been more sure of anything."
He pushed slowly, feeling her stretch around him, accommodate him, take him in with heat that felt like coming home. Her legs clamped around his waist, pulling him deeper, and they both made sounds that were more animal than human.
"Fuck, you feel good," he groaned.
"Move," she demanded.
He did, pulling out almost completely before sliding back in. The rhythm built slow at first, then faster as need overtook caution. Her shadows completely engulfed them both, adding sensation everywhere they touched, creating pleasure that went beyond physical.
Maren met him thrust for thrust, her nails digging into his back hard enough to leave marks. He didn't care. Wanted her marks on him, wanted evidence that this was real and not another fevered dream.
"Harder," she gasped.
He obeyed, driving into her with brutal force that made her cry out. The angle hit something that made her tighten around him, and he nearly lost control right there.
When she came this time, he felt the pulse and clench of her body, the way she grabbed him like she'd never let go. It pushed him over the edge.
He buried himself deep and let go, spilling inside her with a groan that echoed off the cabin walls. The orgasm went on and on, pulled from somewhere primal by her body and her shadows and the impossible rightness of being inside her.
After, he held her carefully, mindful of his weight. She kept her legs wrapped around him, keeping them joined, her breath evening out against his neck.
"Don't let go yet," she whispered.
"Wasn't planning to."
They lay like that until the fire burned low and his softening cock finally slipped free. Even then he didn't move far, just rolled to his side and pulled her against him, wrapping them both in blankets and shadows.
"Tristan?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you. For saving my life."
She fell asleep in his arms, her breathing deep and even, her shadows keeping watch while she rested.
Tristan stared at the dying fire and tried to process what they'd just done. Tomorrow the Council would demand answers he didn't have.
But tonight she was warm and safe and his and tomorrow seemed so far away.