Kristie Cook - Promise

"Like the Amadis power?" I asked, surprised.

He smiled again, less sorrow in it this time. "That's what I thought at first."

"It couldn't be," Mom said. "Until the Ang'dora , Alexis, your power is extremely weak. Not strong enough to do what you have for Tristan."

"And it's different," Tristan added. "It's just who you are naturally, what you do to me. Nothing special or extraordinary. Just you being you. You bring out the best in me."

Funny. I'd just been thinking the same about him . It dawned on me the connection we had—we each needed the other to truly thrive, to be the best we could be.

"So you don't want to kill me, right?" I asked.

Tristan grimaced at my question. He stared at the table for a moment and then looked me directly in the eye. "I could not consciously harm a single hair on your head. I knew when I met you I had to maintain control—I could never hurt you—and it has become easier every day since. Even all that blood tonight…at one time that would have caused all hell to break loose. Literally. But not anymore."

"Why?" I asked. "I mean, why do you think it's easier to control now?"

"Because I love you," he said matter-of-factly, still holding my eyes. "The pain I would feel if I ever did anything to you far outweighs any desire or force within me. Sometimes that other force tries to fight it, but my love for you is overpowering every other urge."

"Love tends to do that," Mom said quietly. "What you need to understand, Alexis, is how amazing it is for Tristan to feel that…to know love. He was created for the exact opposite…hatred and evil–"

Tristan cringed.

"Sorry," she apologized. "But, unfortunately, it's true. I personally thought it was impossible for Tristan to love anyone. He's surprised us all, though me more than others. Many of the Amadis believed it could happen, that he could love. I didn't think he would go back to his old life—I wasn't positive, but I didn't think he would—but I never thought he could come so far as to love . And I have to admit it bothered me at first, that the person he loves is you, my own daughter. But I see you two together every day. I can't deny the truth…."

We sat there quietly for a while, Mom continuing her mini-surgery on my arm. I closed my eyes and my mind whirled. A ticker tape of questions ran through my head. I hit information overload, unable to process it all.

"But now that you know the truth, Alexis, I'll understand if you can't love me," Tristan said quietly. "It's a lot to accept."

I chuckled. All this time I'd been worried about him not accepting me. He watched me as he waited for my answer, his eyes noticeably darkening with each beat of my heart. I knew he expected the worst. But all I could think about was what he overcame—his own natural desires, what he was made for—so he could be good . And I knew to my very core he was good. And he loved me. I squeezed his hand.

"I told you I wouldn't change my mind," I said.

He gazed into my eyes and he must have seen the truth because immediate relief washed over his face. He lifted my hand to his mouth and pressed his lips against the back of it.

"Okay, you're glass-free," Mom said, sitting back in her chair with a heavy sigh. "What a night."

"Oh, yeah, what happened at the store?" I asked. With such a surreal discussion, the accident now seemed like a different lifetime or dimension. "I mean, with the driver?"

"The police think he was drunk and tried to escape the car before it hit the store," Mom said. "The door was open as if he planned to jump, but apparently, he must have just fallen out and under the car, because it rolled over him, crushing his chest."

"Ugh." My own injuries from the night now felt miniscule. I could only hope it was quick for him. "Do they know who he was?"

"His name was Phillip Jones. He lived here in the Cape. Some people from the bar came down to the scene, said he'd been drinking since this morning because his wife left him."

Phillip…Phil … My mind flashed on the orange car sitting partially in the store…and then the orange Camaro the wife-beater at the park had jumped into when Tristan scared him off. Oh! I looked at Tristan, my eyes huge. He nodded with immediate understanding.

"Owen told me what happened at the park and this was the same guy," Mom said.

"Did he tell the police?" I asked. "They need to know, don't they? Tristan and I should probably give a report, too, right?"

To my surprise, Mom shook her head. "No. Right now the police think it was a drunk driver who lost control. Just an accident."

"But, Mom…that's obstruction of justice! He was purposely aiming for us!"

"Alexis, we don't know that for sure and we never will. What more justice can there be, anyway? He's dead. What good can come of making it more than it seems?"

"Do you want that little girl to grow up thinking her dad attempted murder?" Tristan asked quietly.

I sighed heavily as I slumped back in my chair, thinking of that poor little girl. I didn't know whether to be relieved to know her dad would never hurt her or her mom again…or sad she would have to grow up without a dad at all. I decided to be relieved. From what I'd seen, he wasn't much more of a father to her than my sperm donor was to me.

"I'm exhausted and I think we better go to bed before this night gets any worse," Mom said, standing up and stretching. "It's late, Tristan. You're welcome to stay. Just remember…I'm right in the next room."

He nodded, the corners of his mouth twitching as he fought a smile at her comment, and then he turned to me. "Is that what you want?"

I thought about whether I wanted him nearby or if I needed time to think by myself. There was still so much I didn't know about him. I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep and if I needed to talk about anything, I would want him there. And I still wanted to be with him. I still loved him. Perhaps even more than I did just a few hours ago.

I placed my hand over his. "Yes, I want you to stay with me."

I brushed my teeth and changed into a tank top and pajama shorts before Tristan joined me in my room. I sat on the bed nervously while he stood just inside the door.

"Are you okay with this?" he asked, hesitantly. "I mean, with me in general, first of all?"

I considered what he meant. My heart said I was okay with him, but my mind played devil's advocate. He's killed people . True, that was something I had to accept about him, but that was his past life. Not who he was now. Not my Tristan. He wants to kill me . No, he said he can't, I reminded myself. He said his love was stronger.

"Yes, I am more than okay with you."

"You're not scared of me now?"

"Should I be?"

He walked over to me and knelt on his knees so we were eye-to-eye, placing his hands on my thighs. "Do you still love me?"

"Definitely."

"And I love you. As cliché as it sounds, I strongly believe our love will conquer anything else…at least, anything inside of me."

"I believe that, too. Besides, if you'd wanted to kill me, you've had plenty of opportunity."

He grimaced. "Let's not make light of it, okay?"

"Sorry. It's just that I… trust you."

He chuckled but there was no humor in it. "I tell you all this terrible stuff about me and now you trust me?"

"Yeah, ironic, huh?" I thought about that for a moment. "I guess it goes to show how powerful the truth is. Whatever you did in the past doesn't matter now. You've been forgiven. I love who you are now ." I held my hands to his face, stroking his cheeks with my thumbs. "You are now more a part of me than ever."

"Yes, I have given you everything," he murmured. "Before I met you, I didn't even know I really had a heart. And now it is yours—all yours."