Kristie Cook - Promise

He held the back of my head gently in his hand and I placed my hands on the sides of his face and closed my eyes as he kissed me a second time. The world faded out again. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else even existed but Tristan and me. My fingers slid into his hair and I pulled him into me, desire rising in my chest as the tip of his tongue lightly traced my bottom lip. Our mouths crushed against each other, our tongues tasting the other as if they'd been longing for this moment. I pressed into him, nearly giving in to the sudden and ridiculous urge to climb up and attack him. Losing control! I forgot to breathe again and finally had to pull away.

I looked into his eyes and froze.

The gold sparks in Tristan's eyes had turned to flames and for just an instant—not even a second—he actually looked more than just dangerous but… murderous . Then the flames disappeared and his eyes filled with pain. In one swift motion, he closed them and turned his head away from me. There was something wrong—I hadn't imagined it—something going on in his head. But the frightening look in his eyes was gone so quickly, I didn't know exactly what I saw, except for the sadness that followed.

I dropped my hands into my lap and leaned against him. I could hear his heart pounding hard against his ribs and I wished I could do something for him. I tried to slow my own heart and breathing, tried to regain control, and his breathing told me he was doing the same. His arms held me tightly, as if he was afraid to let go. We sat completely still until most of the sky turned dark blue. We lay back down on the blanket, his arms still around me, and we stared silently at the stars as they blinked to life one at a time.

Then both of our stomachs growled, ruining everything. We laughed, sat up and started gathering our things. He seemed to have recovered from whatever thought or memory had hurt him so much. I wondered if he'd ever tell me about it, but I didn't dare ask now. I wasn't sure I wanted to know.

We cooked dinner together at the cottage. I taught myself to cook, with the help of Emeril and Martha, and quite enjoyed it, but it had never been so much fun as it was with Tristan. I had to stop to admire his perfectly sliced peppers and onions. Every piece was exactly the same size and he had done it so quickly. I was impressed—and intimidated. He cut the prep time in half and it wasn't long before we sat down to chicken fajitas.

After cleaning up, we watched a movie. He laughed at the choices I offered, my favorites— Interview with the Vampire , Lost Boys , Willow and The Princess Bride .

"You seem to have a thing for vampires and magic."

"Yeah, actually I do," I admitted with a small smile.

"Really? You like that fantasy stuff?" He seemed surprised.

"The lore fascinates me. You know…how it got started, if it was ever based on any kind of truth. I like to believe there's magic in this world. And that it can be used for good."

"Hmm…interesting," he muttered. Not in a sarcastic way, but like he found my fascination unexpected. His brows furrowed for an instant and then his face relaxed. "Let's go with Willow . It won't give me nightmares."

I laughed. I had a hard time believing scary movies bothered him. "If you're that much of a wuss, then let's watch…" I scanned the other movies on the shelf. "… Legends of the Fall ."

"Oh, no. That would be the worst nightmare of all."

I gave him a questioning look as I slid the movie into the player. I used to have a crush on Tristan Ludlow, Brad Pitt's character, but hated how he left his loved ones. It wasn't exactly nightmare material, though.

"I might dream of you with that other Tristan." He pulled me onto the couch next to him and put his arms around me. "And that would be horrifying."

He nestled his face into my hair at my neck. I smiled.

"I prefer this one."

"This one prefers you, too," he whispered.

He leaned back on the couch, pulling me with him. I felt so comfortable, so relaxed in his arms. I couldn't understand now why I had panicked at the idea of being alone with him. Nothing felt more natural.

"Lexi," Tristan murmured as he stirred on the couch. "Wake up, Lexi."

"Huh?" I sat up, a little disoriented. "Is the movie over?"

"I think it was over a while ago. We both fell asleep."

The TV's menu screen silently glowed bright blue.

"Oh." I snuggled back against him. "Can we just stay here?"

"I think I better go," he said quietly.

He stood up and pulled me up, too. I held his hand as we walked to the door, and then he pulled me to him. Sparks flew through me again as he leaned over and kissed me. I wrapped my arms around his neck, dug my fingers into his hair and pulled tightly as I kissed him back. Passion rose as his mouth traveled along my neck and jaw line and his hands slid down my back, pressing me against him when his lips returned to mine. A tiny sound might have escaped from me. I don't know. His touch and scent and taste all together at once overwhelmed me. Losing control again ….

He abruptly pulled back. Those flames sparked in his eyes again, glowing brighter than before. I stepped back, surprised ( frightened ).

"Yes, I better go," he muttered. He was out the door before I could react.

I stood there breathless, not able to say anything because I didn't know what would come out. Yes, go. No, stay!

"I'll see you in the morning. We have more studying to do," he called over his shoulder. I shut the door and slid to the floor—my legs weak, my insides still throbbing and my heart racing. I stayed there while I listened to the motorcycle's engine fade into the night.

A knock at the door startled me back to alertness. I stood up and peeked through the window.

"Owen?" I said with shock, pulling the door open. "It's two in the morning. What are you doing here?"

"Hey, Alexis." He seemed to be giving me a once-over. "I was just in the neighborhood and wanted to make sure you were okay. I know you're home alone and I saw the lights on…."

What the…?

"Uh, I'm fine." I stared at him with bewilderment.

"Yeah, I'm sure you are," he mumbled as he turned to leave. "Sorry to bother you."

He started down the walkway. Oh, no. Oh, no, she didn't!

"Hey, Owen?" I called after him.

He stopped and turned. "Yeah?"

"Did Sophia put you up to this?"

He started walking again and called back, "Just doing my job, Alexis."

Son of a witch! She had Owen checking up on me. And he'd conveniently shown up right after Tristan left, as if he'd been watching. A babysitter?! Seriously?!

But then I wondered if it had been Owen whom I heard outside last night, checking on me. That would be a good thing. He gave good vibes and Mom trusted him, so I should, too. Right?

Tristan showed up at the door at ten the next morning with coffee, croissants and his backpack in hand and we spent the morning studying. By one o'clock, he'd had enough. He strode over to the backdoor and gazed out the window.

"It's a beautiful day for a ride," he hinted. When I didn't answer, he came over to my chair, dropped on his knees, clasped his hands together and stuck his lower lip out deliciously. He lowered his voice. "Please?"

Like I could resist that. Or the offer.

"Why not? My brain's fried, too."

He grinned. "You'll want to put on jeans and real shoes. No flip-flops for this ride."

We cruised the streets of Cape Heron, and then headed for I-75. Holy crap! What am I thinking? I panicked at the realization of having absolutely no control—I put my life into his hands. I squeezed my eyes shut and held onto Tristan tightly, my muscles tense as the wind rushed against my face and the sounds of cars and trucks seemed way too close. Exhaust fumes and the smell of hot rubber filled my nose. My body was welded to Tristan's back by the time we left the highway only a couple exits later. I breathed a sigh of relief that we survived.