Promise

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.'

Chapter 12

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 cliche 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.'

I pulled his face to mine and kissed him gently on his satiny lips. Then I kissed his forehead…and his eyelids…and his cheeks…and his chin…and the corners of his mouth. The built-up emotions of the night—fear, anxiety, shame, pain, sadness—crashed down on us and then were pushed away by the strongest of them all: love. Our lips moved together hungrily. I tasted the tangy-sweetness of mangos and papayas, lime and sage, on his lips…his breath…his tongue.

Our kisses became more passionate as he leaned into me. My heart raced with excitement, my body pulsing with electrical charges he sent through it with every touch. I wrapped my legs around his waist and pressed my body into his while pulling him closer still with my arms. I wanted to just melt into him and let him feel that I did really love him.

He laced his fingers into my hair and pulled gently back, exposing my neck. He moved his lips along my jaw, down my throat. I let out a sigh as he kissed my collar bone and then pulled my head back further, lifting my chest. He nestled his face between my breasts. His body trembled against mine. And then he let go of my hair and relaxed his own body, breathing heavily against my chest. My own breathing was ragged as I struggled to use my brain, to figure out why he'd stopped.

We both sat there for a minute, him on his knees, his head against my chest, me holding him tight, but starting to relax. When the fog cleared from my mind, I knew it was good he'd stopped. I wasn't ready for anything more.

'I don't think we should push it any further,' he finally said.

'Right,' I agreed, reluctantly letting him go.

'I should probably go home.'

'Please don't,' I reacted. Then I remembered what I did to him—his internal struggle between wanting to love me and wanting to kill me—and my heart hurt for him again. 'I mean, I wish you would stay, but if you think you need to…'

He rocked back on his heels and his face was tight, as if concentrating hard on something. His eyes were closed and he took careful, controlled breaths. When he opened his eyes, the gold looked more like fire than sparkles, but not bright flames like I'd seen before. That's when I realized what the flames meant…he was about to lose control. Each time I'd seen them, we'd been in a moment of passion and passion led to loss of control, regardless of who—or what—you were. I knew that already just from the little bit I'd experienced. He stopped us not just because he was a gentleman, but also to protect me. I shuddered.

'I do scare you,' he said quietly.

I shook my head.

'I trust you, Tristan,' I whispered, my throat hot and dry. A cold glass of ice water suddenly seemed absolutely necessary. 'You want a glass of water?'

He smiled. 'That would be wonderful.'

I stood up and found my legs to be slightly weak and wobbly. By the time I returned and we both drained our glasses, we felt cooled down enough to lie safely together. We lay on our sides in my small bed, my back against his chest, his arms around me, holding me close. It felt nice…perfect.

But my mind continued to spin, not ready to shut down, questions still flying through it. I started with an easy one.

'So, when's your birthday?' I asked.

'Ah. Now the questions.' He chuckled in my hair. 'October 31.'

' Halloween ? Oh…I guess that shouldn't be surprising.'

'It was just a coincidence, though, especially since I was premature,' he said. 'I was born . They didn't hook me up to a machine and turn a switch on.'

'So you're not like Frankenstein?' I asked with a giggle.

'Definitely not. They just made sure the right genes…and other things…were a part of my creation. But I'm