Kristie Cook - Promise

" What? What is wrong with you?" He obediently closed his eyes, though. I opened the door, crawled into his lap and kissed him, hoping and praying it wasn't the last one ever.

"I needed that first," I whispered. I took a deep breath as he opened his eyes. "I hope you really love me…because things are about to get weird."

"What's going on?" he asked, his beautiful hazel eyes filled with concern.

I reluctantly held my arms straight out in front of him. He studied them, running his fingers over the last of the pink marks. I watched his face with trepidation and braced myself for the worst.

"They're perfect," he said matter-of-factly. He tilted my head, gently separating my hair to examine the head wound. "Nothing. It's gone. So what's wrong?"

I narrowed my eyes at him, suspicious at his reaction or, rather, non-reaction. "You don't see anything wrong?"

He smiled slightly. "No. They're all healed. I think that's a good thing."

I held my breath, watching him and waiting…and waiting…. And still no reaction. I know he's not stupid…. He'd seen the blood on my hand when I touched my head at the store. He knew there had been some kind of wound there not ten minutes ago. And now nothing . He said so himself.

"Ah, must be your leg…," he said, his hand moving toward my thigh. I instinctively shifted away, tumbling off his lap, onto the bathroom floor. "Lexi, I won't hurt you."

"That's not the problem!" I said sharply.

"Then what is?" Both concern and bemusement filled his face.

"Tristan…you saw how much my head was bleeding."

He shrugged. "Head wounds bleed a lot. It must not have been bad and it's gone now."

"Exactly! It's gone. So are the cuts on my arms. Don't you find that…I don't know…a little weird ?"

"Not at all. Should I?"

"Uh, yeah, you should! It's not normal! I'm a freak!"

He laughed and I glared at him. Here it comes. He abruptly stopped and put his arms around me. "What ever gave you the idea I thought you were normal ?"

"Are you mocking me?" I pulled away and stared into his eyes. The gold sparkled beautifully. He wasn't freaked out. He wasn't being mean. He wasn't counting the seconds to get out of here and never return. He was just concerned. And his eyes were filled with…love.

"Alexis, you are really making a big deal out of nothing. I don't care that you heal fast. Remember what I told you? I can handle anything. You could grow a second head and I would love it."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"Okay, a second head may be a little weird," he admitted. "But healing yourself, well, that's just not a deal breaker for me. Okay?"

I stared at him, not able to think of a single thing to say. He's not running. He's not laughing. What's wrong with him?

"Now, please let me look."

He turned me so he could better see the injury and pulled my hand with the now red, wadded t-shirt away. I was too dumbfounded to fight him off anymore. Besides, I knew this one was not healing so fast…if at all. It actually scared me now. The pain continued to shoot up to my hip and down to my ankle and it still hadn't stopped bleeding. Mom and I didn't know the extent of my body's ability to heal and this was the worst injury I'd ever had. It could be my body's first real test. If it didn't heal on its own, Mom had a professional grade first-aid kit with needle and thread. But Mom wasn't here….

"Alexis, have you taken a good look at me since that car came through the window?" Tristan asked as he studied the injury.

Huh? Is he trying to distract me? That would be a good way to do it. I was taking a good look at him right now, actually—he still had no shirt on. His body was perfect. He glanced up at me when I didn't answer and his face was perfect, as usual, too.

"Of course. You're beautiful, as always," I mumbled.

He rolled his eyes. "I mean, no cuts, no blood."

I realized what he meant and thought back over the last ten or fifteen minutes, since the accident. Yeah…no cuts or blood on him . And he had shielded Mom and me. He should have been the worst off.

"How come you're not hurt?" I gasped as he poked at the raw flesh. "Ouch!"

"Sorry. This is pretty serious."

"And you know because…?" I asked, momentarily forgetting my first question.

"Because I have medical training. The glass cut through rather deeply. There's so much blood still." He grabbed the towel I'd been using and soaked it under the tub's faucet. "I can't even see if it's healing on its own."

He dabbed at the wound and I winced.

"So how come you're not hurt?" I asked again through clenched teeth, now trying to distract myself. "That's hardly fair. Ow! "

He'd gone in deeper.

"Sorry. Here." He put my hand on his leg. "Squeeze as hard as you need to, if it helps."

I squeezed. Hard.

"I heal, too," he said, "and much faster than you."

" What? "

Tristan definitely had me distracted now.

"Any surface cuts from the flying glass would've healed before they even bled," he said. "It'd take a shard like what did this to even pierce my skin. Or a dart…." He glanced at me with a slight smile, then went back to work.

I ignored the dart comment as my breaths became shallow. I didn't know if it was from the pain or a reaction to what he said. Or perhaps I was going into complete shock, overwhelmed with everything happening on this insane night.

"You… heal? " I gasped. The towel jabbed deep, hitting a raw nerve and making me jump. "Holy crap, ouch !"

"This isn't working," he said with a sigh. He glanced down at my hand on his leg. My fingernails dug into his thigh.

"Sorry," I whispered, loosening my grip.

"You're not hurting me , but you are hurting and I don't like that." I could see my pain reflected in his eyes. He lay the wet towel over the wound, apparently giving up. "Yes, I heal, among other things. And you, ma lykita , are not. At least, not quickly enough."

I sighed heavily. "Call Sophia. She can sew it…I think."

He shook his head. "There's no way she's done already. The police can't know you were there and hurt or they'll make you go to the hospital. And you can't do that, right?"

I sighed again. "Right. So what do we do?"

He stared at my leg for a long moment, seeming to think about our options. Then he placed one of his knees on each side of my legs and leaned over, placing a hand on the floor on each side of me so he knelt on all fours, his face very close to mine.

"You really love me?" he asked with a stunning smile.

I could smell his delicious breath when he spoke. He gazed intensely into my eyes. My mind started to fog.

"I…think so," I whispered.

"You think ?" He rocked back onto his heels and stared at me.

"Well…you just…you can…you heal ," I stammered.

"So…that is a deal breaker for you?"

Is it? I couldn't think straight. My thigh throbbed even harder now after he'd been poking around in it. And here he was, all perfect and beautiful and half-naked, straddled over me with that breathtaking smile, his delicious scent enveloping me. I tried to focus. How could I mind him being able to heal? But, I knew, that wasn't the real issue. The real issue was our whole relationship was built on secrets and lies…more than I ever realized.

"Not that you can heal," I finally said. "But you didn't tell me."

He raised an eyebrow.

"You've been holding back, too," he pointed out. "We've both known that about each other."

"I know," I admitted. "It's just, well, it seems you've known all my secrets. At least the two biggest ones. You're not surprised at all by my ability to heal. And I know you know Sophia is really my mom."

There. That's out now. He narrowed his eyes for a second, then nodded. "You're right. But a secret is a secret. A lie is a lie. You didn't tell me either."