A Demon's Desire (13 page)

“Adam swore he broke it off with Olivia, that
she was a psycho, and it was just us. I believed him. I was really
happy with him, and everything seemed so great for about six
months. Then he became unreliable, stopped taking my calls, showed
up randomly on my doorstep, always looked upset. He was still
seeing her, and she’d figured out there was someone else. She found
out it was me and confronted me one day. I was shocked. I told her
the truth, and she went crazy. Said she’d curse me with awful
things. I was just pissed at Adam for lying. I didn’t think
anything about it until bad things started happening to me.”

“Like what?”

“The brakes on my car went out like Amber’s
did last night. Some guy mugged me in the alley behind our dorm. I
couldn’t sleep, because there was always someone waiting for me
that wanted to take me away to Hell. Just weird things like that.
And every day for a week, she would wait for me outside the dorm
and follow me to my first class, screaming in some weird language
at me. Total psycho. Anyway, a couple of weeks after I broke it off
with Adam, he sent me an email and asked me to meet him on the
bridge. Said he left her for good and wanted to marry me. He said
he needed a friend. As angry as I was, I couldn’t bear the thought
of losing him.” Her voice grew faint and then faded into silence.
She blinked back tears. “I was such a fool.”

“You met him, and he jumped,” Tristan
finished for her.

“He said Olivia would kill him if he didn’t
do it first. I guess she’d been doing even worse stuff to him than
she had to me,” Emma said and cleared her throat. “I called in an
anonymous report to the police from a pay phone at a gas station
and then packed up all my stuff and left college.” Guilt crossed
her features, and tears spilled down her cheeks.

Tristan leaned closer to pull her into him.
“None of this is your fault, Emma,” he whispered. “You got caught
between two very stupid people.”

“I know I didn’t kill him, but I still ran
away like a coward!”

“No, you survived for two years until I could
find you,” he said. “I have to ask, when you packed up your
belongings and brought them to Amber’s, was there anything in there
Olivia or Adam had given you?”

“Like what?”

“An object of any kind.”

“Adam gave me all kinds of things. I threw
most of them out. He knew I collected geodes and used to buy them
for me. Some were too pretty to throw in the trash,” she said and
pulled away. “Why? You think I did this to Sissy, because I kept
them?”

“Emma, you didn’t do anything!” he said and
wiped tears from her cheek. “I think Olivia cursed something Adam
gave you without you knowing. It sat in the storage room at Amber’s
and was harmless until it came into long-term contact with another
person.”

“If he was still alive, I’d push him off that
damn bridge!” she said, fire back in her eyes.

He kissed her forehead, unable to resist the
temptation.

“You need to get some rest,” he said and
withdrew before he lost his will to keep away from her until this
was over. He rose and held out his hand.

“I’m not tired,” she told him. She took his
hand anyway and let him pull her the short distance to a bank of
elevators. “And I want to find Olivia so you can use your weird
magic to kick her ass.”

“I’ll take care of Olivia.”

She believed him. Adam was screwing her over
even in his death! She wished she’d destroyed everything he gave
her. If she had, Sissy would be well, and maybe Olivia would be
satisfied with only coming after her.

She gazed up at Tristan, comforted by the
closeness of his body and his quiet strength. His gaze was distant
as they waited for the elevator. His hard face with its lopsided
features was impossible to read, but he’d held her sweetly when she
revealed her dark secret. His dark eyes were not black as she first
thought but dark brown, the color of dark chocolate.

Tristan looked down at her, and the skin
around his eyes softened.

He was a loner. Mama had been correct in
that. He seemed genuinely surprised whenever someone asked him how
he was or did something thoughtful for him. She felt the cool
darkness around him like she had Mr. Winter but wasn’t afraid of
Tristan. His eyes were warm and his touch gentle. Whatever he was,
whatever she might be suffering from, she was drawn to him with an
intensity that frightened her. His touch was familiar, like they’d
been lovers in some former life. His taste and scent set her senses
ablaze with awareness.

Of all the emotions she felt toward him,
gratitude was foremost on her mind. He’d healed Sissy and treated
her family well.

The elevator in front of them slid open, and
they entered. Emma gazed at him, wishing she knew what to say. She
wanted to know more of the man who’d saved the life of someone she
loved and provided her more comfort than anyone else ever had. She
wanted to ask about his family, why someone so sweet lived in a
place like Demon’s Alley, even his favorite color.

How did one converse with an otherworldly
being?

How did one converse with men at all? She
sighed and looked away. They reached the tenth floor in silence,
and she walked from the elevator.

“Nap,” he reminded her, holding open the door
with a hand. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“I’ve gotta make a phone call.”

Thank god!
With her gratitude had come
an increased awareness of the sexual tension that stretched between
them. She needed rest and doubted she’d get it if he went with her.
Tristan gave a smoky chuckle, one that tickled the back of her neck
and slid over her like a fall breeze. She shuddered and eyed him,
once again aware of just how unique this man was. The elevator door
closed.

My favorite color is green, like your
eyes.

She smiled, the guilt she’d felt for two
years at Adam’s death lifted from her thoughts. Tristan hadn’t
judged her. He’d been the gentleman Adam was never capable of
being.

She did what he suggested and took a short
nap in Amber’s room, followed by a shower hot enough to melt her
tension. She closed her eyes and sighed. When she stepped out of
the shower, the stress would be back. She would face a man that
frightened her, an injured mother, and a daughter wondering about
her own mother. Worst of all, she would look in the mirror and know
who caused everything.

She opened her eyes. It was still dark. She
blinked. The light flipped on, then off again. She opened the
shower curtain in the tiny hospital bathroom, snatched her towel
and wrapped it around her sloppily, and flung open the door.

Sissy stared at her in surprise, her fingers
on the wall beside the switch.

“Do that again, and I’ll never take you out
for ice cream ever again!” she said, unable to help the fear
streaking through her. She glanced up and saw Tristan’s intense
eyes skimming over her before she slammed the door. She dressed in
the same outfit and left the bathroom, feeling grimy without a
change of clean clothes.

“Mama, I think I’ll run to my apartment
really fast to get some clothes,” she said as she exited.

“Of course, doodle. I’ll keep Sissy. Tristan
will go with you though.”

“You’ll be okay, right, Mama?” she asked,
hesitating. She glanced at Tristan. He nodded in reassurance.

“We’ll be fine,” Mama replied. “Go get some
real food while you’re out.”

Emma stepped into the hall, feeling uneasy
about leaving. Tristan took her hand before she could change her
mind and led her down the hall. She said nothing until they were
out of the hospital and noticed Isolde lying by the ER doors.

“Oh, angel,” she murmured and released
Tristan to cross to the blind dog. Isolde perked and thumped her
tail. Emma patted her. “I’ll bring you some food. Don’t let any
creeps inside.”

Isolde licked her, and she rejoined Tristan,
who smiled. The sky was gray, a strong, cool wind whipping in from
the north. She savored it, sensing the threat of rain and thunder.
She welcomed the autumn storm. They walked quietly to the car, and
she gazed at him as he opened her door.

“I feel like I don’t know anything about you
and you know everything about me. What’s your last name?” she asked
as he sat in the driver’s seat of her car.

“Chatham.” He smiled as he merged onto the
highway. His right hand rested on her thigh once more, and Emma
gazed at it, temporarily distracted.

She really did like his hands. Oddly enough,
she learned early in life that a person’s hands bespoke much of
that person. Tristan’s hands were well-cared for but calloused,
strong as a man’s hands should be with round palms.

“Your favorite color?” she asked.

Green, like your eyes.
His reply came
unbidden into her mind.

“I bet that skill of yours works well
cheating at cards,” she said.

“My mother does that in a casino.”

“Really? I didn’t think you’d have a mother.
You’re too unusual,” she said. “Is your mother like you?”

“No. She’s Italian,” he said with his subtle
humor. She gazed at him, not certain if he were joking. He tipped
her chin with a half smile.

“Your father?” she continued.

“Never knew him.”

“Siblings?”

“A brother.”

“Good lord,” she muttered.

“He’s normal,” he assured her.

“Tell me something about you, Tristan. Help
me believe I didn’t invite the devil into my home,” she said with a
sigh.

“I was born in Italy to an Italian mother and
a man she refers to only as The Bastard. She had one older son, my
brother, named Andre, whose father she calls The First Bastard. We
moved to France shortly after my birth, where I lived until I was
fifteen. My mother moved to Wooster at that point and bought the
shop on Demon’s Alley. I grew up there and have been there ever
since.”

“Not married, no kids, no black witch
girlfriends you’re not telling me about?” she asked.

“No.”

“Do you like Demon’s Alley?”

“Not especially, but it serves a
purpose.”

“What purpose?” she pried.

“I’m with my kind.”

Emma frowned at him. “They’re not your kind,
Tristan. They’re hostile, stupid, unfriendly, and wouldn’t give me
the time of day. You’re the only person who’s ever helped me.”

“There aren’t many places for people like me,
and I’m a freelance occult consultant. Demon’s Alley is the only
place I’ve ever fit in,” he replied.

“Tristan, I’m serious. You deserve to be
somewhere better. I can see it. I wish you could,” she insisted.
“You’re too good of a person, even if you aren’t fully … uh …
you’re a better human than full humans.”

“There are two people who think so,” he said
with a chuckle. “You and my mother.”

“My family,” she added. “I have a feeling
we’re the only people you’ve ever really known, though.”

“I was home-schooled because I terrified the
kids in class. Hard to make friends when people fear you. I’m not
even sure …” He trailed off. She waited, unable to decipher the
emotions on his face.

“I gave up my biggest secret,” she reminded
him. “Talk, Tristan.”

He hesitated then sighed. “I’m afraid I won’t
always be able to control the evil inside me.”

“It’s evil?” she asked.

“Half of me is. I suppress it, but sometimes
I wonder if I’ll always be able to.”

She was quiet, hearing the pain in his voice.
It disturbed her to know how tortured his existence had been, never
accepting who he was, never finding acceptance anywhere he went.
She lifted his hand and kissed it.

“I imagine it helps if you have a good enough
reason to want to control it,” she said. He glanced at her, his
gaze warming. She would step up to become that reason after all
he’d done for her family. While he said nothing, she sensed he was
happy with her words.

As they pulled up to her apartment building,
she couldn’t help thinking of his apartment.

“I don’t think you’ll like my apartment,” she
said in a considering tone. “Why don’t you like color or things on
your wall?”

“My mother says I spend too much time in my
head to pay attention to the rest of the world,” he said. “And I
like your apartment.”

“You’ve been?”

“Mama sent me for your clothes the other
day.”

“
You
got them?” she asked in surprise.
“I’m surprised my clutter didn’t throw you out before you got past
the front door. I’m sorry, Tristan. I would’ve cleaned if I knew
you were going there.”

“A delightful mess,” he said with another
small smile. “Much like you.”

“I’m not that bad!” She blushed, about to
continue when he raised a hand. His eyes were on the building.

“Wait here.” His voice was low, his eyes
sharpening.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“Just stay here.” Without another word, he
left the car and jogged to the building. He disappeared around the
corner.

* * *

He recognized the darkness from his time with
it in Sissy’s room. What alarmed him, however, was something even
more familiar. He took the stairs to Emma’s apartment two at a time
and strode in boldly.

His mother’s warning came back to him as he
faced the man in the middle of Emma’s living room. Caught off
guard, the man who could be his twin dropped the shoebox in his
hand and stared.

“I didn’t sense you,” the stranger said. “Who
are you?”

“I think it’s evident,” Tristan replied. He
sensed the evil lingering in his twin. While Tristan had defeated
the darkness he was born with, this man had not. Anger filled him.
More than one woman had kept her secrets well from him.

“Is that bitch still alive?” the stranger
growled, sharing his thought.

“Our mother is alive.”