Kristie Cook - Purpose

Tristan chuckled quietly and, thankfully, kept his voice low. “I don’t think so. You take it easy.”

Electricity pulsed through my body, though. I wasn’t sure I could sit still. A cell phone rang shrilly. I jumped and covered my ears again. Owen muttered, “finally,” as he stepped outside, lifting the phone to his ear.

I turned sideways on the couch and lay my legs over Tristan’s lap. He brushed my cheek with his fingertips and his touch felt so soft, but pleasurably shocking. Goose bumps spread down my neck and arms. He smiled and he looked absolutely sublime, his features even more perfectly sculpted than I’d ever noticed—if at all possible—even with the scars. My heart swelled with the immense love I had for him and a smile spread across my own face.

“Thanks for keeping me warm,” I whispered.

“My pleasure.” He leaned over and brushed his lips across mine, sending another delightful shock.

“I love you, my sweet Tristan.”

“I love you, ma lykita.” He smiled again and my heart flipped. “I’ll never understand why you love me, but I will take every bit you give.”

“You have it all.”

“And you have all of me.” His fingers brushed my cheek again and I shuddered. He leaned in for a long, loving kiss and it felt like he’d never kissed me before. His lips felt soft and full against mine and silky smooth, and I could taste real mangos, papayas and lime on my tongue. A sudden desire rose and I had to fight the impulse to rip his clothes off and jump him right here on the couch. I settled for wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him hard against me as he continued to kiss me.

Owen interrupted us.

“Sophia and Rina are on their way back,” he said, keeping his voice low. “I’m going to meet them outside to make sure they get in with no problems.”

He eyed us. Tristan disentangled himself from my hold.

“Don’t get crazy. I won’t be long,” Owen added with a shake of his head.

“I wish we had more time,” I said after he left. “I’m quite enjoying these new sensations.”

“We’ll have plenty of time soon, my love.”

“I just don’t know how long these heightened senses will last.”

I stroked his face and found myself surprisingly amazed at the texture—I’d never noticed just how velvety his skin felt. Except for the scars. They weren’t soft and spongy like normal scars. These were hard, rigid. I suddenly didn’t like touching them. An icy sensation flowed into my fingertips when I did, like hundreds of tiny icicles pricking my skin. I hadn’t noticed that before either. The feeling made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

So I ran my fingers over his lips instead, which felt much better because they reminded me of Dorian’s cheeks when he was a baby—smooth and supple, inviting me for a kiss. Tristan cupped his hand around my face, stroking my cheek with his thumb. My skin warmed even more and tingled, the feeling spreading throughout my face, up into my scalp and down through my neck. Goose bumps rose and I shivered.

“Are you cold again?” he asked, his brows furrowing with concern.

“No, not at all. Just…tingly.” I shivered again.

He smiled with understanding. “Hmm…I wish we had more time, too.”

He winked and I fell back against the arm of the couch, my insides softening so I couldn’t hold myself up anymore. He leaned over and kissed me again, his hand trailing lightly down my neck and shoulder and arm, electricity spreading in a web across my skin.

I instantly felt overheated. My blood simmered. I had to push him back.

“Okay, maybe not. That’s too much,” I breathed.

I fanned myself with my hand. He blew lightly on my face, his cool, tangy-sweet breath filling my nostrils and into my mouth, overwhelming me. My heart started racing and I thought my temperature shot up three degrees. My blood no longer simmered—it boiled. My skin crawled from my scalp to the tips of my fingers and toes. I jumped off the couch, panting.

“It’s too much! I can’t take it!”

I grabbed the glass of ice water and drained it. The liquid felt like hot tea by the time it hit my stomach. I went into the kitchen, filled the glass again and chugged it. I splashed cool water on my face and neck and then leaned over the sink, forcing myself to take slow, deep breaths. None of it helped. My heart continued to race and my skin prickled and burned.

“Son of a witch, I feel like I could jump out of my skin,” I panted. Tristan came into the kitchen and my skin tingled and crawled with just the anticipation of his touch. I held my hand up when he came within three feet. “I think you’ll send me into cardiac arrest if you come any closer.”

“Alexis…are you okay? You’re so pale.” He still whispered but it sounded so loud.

I turned to look at him. Not a light shone in the house but I had to squint because the room looked so bright. All of my senses seemed to be crashing with overload.

“I don’t know,” I whispered.

Then several things happened simultaneously. The front door flew open with what sounded like an explosion. Owen, Mom, Rina and another woman appeared in the kitchen doorway. The air swooshed over me like a raging wind. I dropped the glass I held and it shattered shrilly on the floor. The sound pierced my ear drums. My heart contracted painfully and burned white-hot. No, not my heart burning. Above it. The skin of the Amadis mark scorched, like it had been pressed with the mean end of a branding iron. Pain ripped through my chest. I screamed in agony and my fingernails clawed into my breasts.

Tristan’s eyes burst into flames. He growled—a terrifying, heart-stopping resonance—and crouched as if preparing to lunge.

And Owen flew across the kitchen.

“Tristan! NO!” he roared.

“Julia, go!” Rina ordered and the strange woman disappeared.

My vision grayed out as I collapsed to the floor.

The next thing I knew, Mom and Rina carried me into the back bedroom, to the only surviving bed. Their hands felt like iced braces as they held me tightly because I writhed uncontrollably. They lay me on the bed and my back arched against the hard, scraping sensation of the sheets and my clothes.

“Mom, what’s happening?” I screamed, the sound deafening to my own ears.

“It’s okay, honey, it’s okay,” she soothed.

Rina placed her hands on me, one on the burning Amadis mark and one on my forehead, and closed her eyes. I felt her energy flow into me and it calmed my nerves enough so I could lie still on the bed. The Amadis mark still felt white-hot, blistering and sending throbbing heat throughout my body. Mom took my hand and I gripped hers tightly.

“It’s happening so fast,” Mom said to Rina, unusual concern filling her voice.

“She can handle it.” Rina remained calm as she kept her hands on me. “We just need to keep her temperature moderated. We need some ice.”

Mom pulled away from me.

“Don’t leave me!” I cried.

“I’ll be right back, honey.”

She returned in a second with towels, ice and water. She slipped an ice cube into my mouth and rubbed water on my face with her hand. The cold on my skin and in my mouth contrasted sharply with the heat in the rest of my body, making me shudder. She placed a cool, wet towel over my forehead and eyes. It was comforting.

I slipped in and out of consciousness. Every time I blacked out, the ice-man’s face watched me again, and every time I came to, Mom and Rina sat right by my side, their hands directly on my skin. I felt new energy flowing through every cell of my body, twisting and turning and swirling through my veins and nerves.

“Something’s terribly wrong,” Mom said to Rina one time when I came to. She sounded anxious, but relatively calm considering the statement. She looked at me, saw my eyes open and didn’t say anything more. I blacked out again.