He didn’t respond, and she didn’t have to wonder why. The pull between them right then was strong. Too strong. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from him, couldn’t really move. Time seemed suspended, the world around her nonexistent. The frantic drum of Tristan’s heart filled her ears, each beat spurring her own.
What is even happening right now?
And why had she wanted to stop this?
Tristan was the first to break the spell. He blinked, shook his head. He even moved two steps back and leveled her with a fierce frown. “I am sure Peter will be pleased with your progress.”
Who cared about Peter? Kiss me, she pleaded with her eyes. Never had a moment felt more ripe for loving.
“You were right. We should end this lesson here and now,” he said, the words a soft growl. “We can begin anew at tomorrow’s dawning.”
“Is that what you want?” Inside, she withered. “To stop?”
“Of course.” A muscle jumped beneath his eye. “A good teacher does not allow his student to overstudy.”
Disappointment raked her, and she found herself glaring up at him. “You’re right. Why study when I can live the real thing? I’ll practice on Peter when we go on our first date.”
Tristan puffed out his chest and snapped, “He will never satisfy you.”
“Maybe not, but I’d like you to release me from the first parameter.” As soon as the words registered, she nodded. Yes. She never should have asked him for help in the first place. Fool! The constant craving for him and his kisses needed to end. And maybe it already had—for him. He no longer seemed inclined to aid her in any way.
Silence greeted her. Silence so thick it cast an oppressive fog throughout the room.
Eventually he grated, “That is truly what you desire?”
No. “Yes.” It’s for the best.
“Very well.” His jaw muscle clenched and unclenched. “From this moment forward, you are free to do whatever you wish with Puny Peter. I want no part of your love life.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Your Place Is On Your Knees
Before Your Mistress
THE REST OF THE day passed in a blur for Julia. She closed the shop a couple hours early, hoping to spend some time with Tristan and soften his dark mood. She escorted him to the Kreager Flea Market, which was open to the public every Wednesday. She hoped to introduce him to the man who’d sold her the box. He could ask questions and hopefully, she could learn more about his curse.
She’d been thinking. The curse involved magic. So, she needed to speak with people well versed in magic. Modern day witches, maybe. A psychic, perhaps. Julia had never believed in those things, but Tristan’s appearance in her life had changed her mind. At the moment, she was open to anything.
She and Tristan meandered through the stalls, inspecting merchandise on their way to the man who—Dang! The man who’d sold her the box was nowhere to be seen, and no one had any idea who he was. Apparently, he’d been there the one day, only one, and it just happened to be the day she visited.
Despite her best efforts to engage Tristin in fun conversation, he remained stiff and unyielding, and he even scared several sellers with his glare, leaving them shaking and pale.
“There’s something I want you to see,” she told Tristan. When she led him to a table crammed high with weapons of every size, shape and color, he finally melted.
“These are magnificent.” He reverently fingered each item, gauging its weight and durability.
“I’ll give you the Glock for four fifty,” the vendor said. She had short hair, cut like a boy’s, and wide angular features that assessed Tristan and knew she’d found a ready buyer. “You can’t beat that deal, and that’s a fact.”
Tristan opened his mouth to reply, but Julia pressed a hand on his forearm. He paused to glance at her.
She gave him an almost imperceptible nod, silently telling him I’ve got this, then she focused on the seller. “The gun isn’t worth half that,” she said, “and to be honest, we aren’t interested in it.” A knife she could allow Tristan to have, but a gun? She shuddered. “You might be able to interest us in the jeweled dagger, though—if the price is right.”
The woman eyed Julia, considering just how much she thought she could pry from her wallet. When she realized Julia wouldn’t be budged, she once again turned her attention to Tristan, clearly hoping he would bring Julia around. However, his features no longer boasted of fascination. No, he looked as cold and hard as granite, not a flicker of emotion betraying him. Julia almost smiled as she mentally applauded him. She made a conscious effort to keep her own features so impressively impassive.
She uttered a forced, breezy sigh. “You know what? Never mind. I saw a similar blade a few stalls over.” She gently squeezed Tristan’s arm, ignoring the warm tingles that prickled her skin upon contact, and moved away from the booth, saying, “I’m sure we’ll find a better bargain over there.”
“Wait, wait,” the woman called.
Triumphant, Julia returned. “Yes?”
“I’ll take two hundred for the dagger and sheath, but not a penny lower.”
“I guess the dagger has found a forever home with you, then. Good day,” Julia said, and made to walk away again.
“One fifty,” the woman pressed. “You’re robbing me here. You know that, don’t you?”
“One hundred for the knife, sheath and cleaning kit, and you’ve got a deal.”
“Done.”
Triumphant, Julia paid and handed the bag of items to Tristan. His eyes were wide and admiring as he closed his palm around the plastic. “You are more fierce than the Shakari of the Imperian market.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“Aye.” He nodded, glorious heat and something else, something tender in his eyes. “Very much aye.”
* * *
TRISTAN
