Moonlight Kin 4: Tristan Page 7

  She glared at Tristan. She’d known he was stubborn and beyond uptight, but Izzy hadn’t thought he was capable of killing innocents. She’d really read him wrong. Or perhaps, she’d read him right the first time. He was a monster after all.

  A strange calm came over her. Izzy loosened her seatbelt to face him. “Don’t threaten my family,” she snarled. “I may not be as strong as you, but I will find a way to stop you.”

  Tristan’s hands clutched the wheel until his knuckles turned white. “It’s not me who is threatening their existence,” he said.

  “Then who is?” she snapped. “Because it sure as hell sounds like you talking.”

  “The Darkling,” he said with impatience.

  “Is that supposed to mean something to me?” Izzy asked. He’d mentioned she was being hunted. Why differentiate the Moonlight Kin from the Darklings? All monsters were the same, weren’t they?

  Izzy had lied when she’d told Mindy that the monsters were just like humans. They weren’t. They were far worse.

  Her sister had mentioned something about a Darkling. What did she say? The music had been so loud and Izzy had still been reeling over Celina’s death, so she hadn’t asked a lot of questions. Now she wished she had.

  “Yes, the word should mean something to you,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “Well it doesn’t,” she said just to aggravate him. “Right now the only person threatening me and my family is you.”

  She faced the window once more. Izzy had to get away from Tristan. It had been a mistake to think she was in any way safe around him. Tristan might claim he’d protect her, but after that statement there was no way she’d ever trust him. They were no longer just talking about her life.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, so she could tell Stone. At this point, he was her only hope of getting out of this mess alive.

  If Tristan thought she’d put herself in danger to help him kill someone—to help him period—he was wrong. Izzy had no intention of getting in the middle of this monster war. Let them wipe each other out. It would make her life much easier if they did.

  She glanced at Tristan and pictured him covered in blood. Instead of relief, the thought brought only sadness.

  He put his blinker on and took the Barataria Boulevard exit toward Jean Lafitte Park. The traffic thinned as he continued down the road.

  Eventually, Tristan turned right. It looked as if he were driving into the woods, but it turned out to be a poorly maintained gravel road. The truck bounced as it hit the potholes, jarring Izzy.

  Trees scraped the side of the doors as they squeezed their way along the unmarked road. Izzy heard Tristan curse under his breath as a particularly large branch scratched his truck.

  So he did care about one thing, she thought. Typical guy.

  Tristan turned left onto a game trail. It certainly wasn’t a road. The overgrowth was even worse, though she didn’t know how that was possible given what they’d just driven through. Tristan drove over downed limbs and squeezed his way through the woods. At one point, he had to cross a murky stream.

  His curses grew louder. Most were aimed at Pierre.

  Izzy said nothing. Instead, she paid attention to the route they were taking. Somehow she’d have to explain to Stone where they were located. It wouldn’t be easy without street signs. Hopefully he was from around here and would know what she meant. Because as far as Izzy could tell, they were in the middle of the woods next to the swamp, which in Louisiana could be just about anywhere.

  * * * * *

  Tristan had said what he’d said to anger Isabel. If she were angry with him, then she’d keep her distance. The spot in the center of his chest ached. Tristan ignored it. What he was doing was for the best—for both of them.

  She was human. He was Moonlight Kin. Their worlds were never meant to intertwine.

  He thought about Damon Laroche and Aidan Fortier. Both Alphas had taken human females as mates. They’d even managed to breed true, but that didn’t mean the Lycanian Elders and the rest of the packs wanted consorting with humans to become habit. Aidan’s parting words to him came rushing back.

  Once the wolf makes its decision, there’s nothing you can do to change its mind.

  Tristan shuddered. It would not happen to him. He’d make sure of it. Contrary to what the Alpha believed, Tristan controlled his wolf, not the other way around.

  The cabin came into view, or at least what was left of it. Like a lot of structures built in and around New Orleans, this one had been lifted off the ground to protect it from flooding. Too bad the move didn’t protect it from the elements.

  There was no paint left on the walls, except a thin strip of haint blue around the windows and on the front door. He’d bet his fur that the front porch roof had also been painted the same aqua blue color. Something clinked in the tree beside him. Tristan glanced at the branches. They were covered in bottles.

  Like the haint blue painted on the house, the bottle tree was there to ward off evil spirits. It was a Gullah tradition, but obviously the Kin saw no need to get rid of it. Tristan stared at the blue bottles covering the tree and shook his head. He’d never been superstitious. He should remove them, but they could use all the help they could get.

  Tristan turned off the engine. A frown marred Isabel’s soft features as she stared at the shack.

  “I’m sure it looks better on the inside,” he said, hoping it was true. Wolves were used to roughing it. In their beast form, indoor plumbing and lighting wasn’t a concern.

  Isabel glanced at him. “Doesn’t matter. I won’t be here long.”

  What did she mean by that? He wanted to ask, but was afraid of her answer.

  Just like on the night Aidan warned him about his wolf, Tristan felt as if someone walked over his grave.

  His wolf snarled inside him. Tristan ignored his beast and opened the truck door. He climbed out and immediately sank two inches into the mud. Lovely, he thought, then raised his nose to the wind.

  Tristan wanted to get a good scent of the area so he’d know the second something entered his territory. He smelled stagnant water, along with fresh. The rich aroma of green plants and lurking predators came next.

  His gaze moved through the trees to the water beyond. Beneath that surface lurked at least one gator, quite possibly a few. He glanced at Isabel.

  “Stay away from the water,” he said, then grabbed his bag and hers from behind the seat and headed for the cabin.

  The place looked as if a strong wind would bring it crashing down upon their heads. Izzy didn’t want to think about how many creepy crawlies had made their way inside.

  Did it even have a bathroom?

  The thought of having to traipse into the woods to do her business left her uneasy. Tristan may be a woodland creature, but Izzy was not.

  He climbed the stairs. The sweats molded to his tight butt like a second skin. There wasn’t an inch of fat on him. Everly was right. Tristan did resemble one of the Avengers.

  Izzy sighed. It would be so much easier if he were an eyesore. As much as she wanted to hide out in the truck, she had to go inside. Tristan opened the front door and disappeared into the dark interior.

  She waited, but he didn’t come back out. Izzy pulled her phone out of her purse and quickly dialed Stone. The phone rang and rang, but he didn’t pick up.

  “Where are you?” she muttered. Her eyes remained locked on the front door.

  Izzy saw a flash of white and quickly turned the phone off and put it away. She didn’t want Tristan to know that she had it. No doubt he’d take it away. She’d just have to try to get in touch with Stone later, when Tristan wasn’t around.

  That thought brought her up short. What if he was serious about not letting her out of his sight? It didn’t matter. He had to go to sleep sometime or take a shower. Izzy would figure something out.

  She shoved the door open and climbed out of the truck. Izzy tiptoed through the mud, though it didn’t do her or her shoes much good. S
he glanced at the mud covering the toes and scowled.

  When she reached the front door, Izzy slipped her shoes off and turned them upside down. At least if something crawled inside them, it would fall out when she lifted them up. She hoped.

  Izzy pulled the screen door open and stepped inside. Tristan was right. It did look better on the inside than on the outside, but it was still only a one-room cabin.

  A large quilt-covered bed had been shoved against the back wall. At the foot of the bed sat a small table with two chairs. The opposite wall held a couch. Perched beside it was an overflowing bookshelf. Whoever lived here liked to read, which surprised her.

  A kitchenette, which consisted of a stove, a sink, and a couple of cabinets, had been tucked in a corner next to a small fridge. Izzy scanned the space, but didn’t immediately spot a bathroom.

  “Don’t worry.” Tristan pushed what she thought was the back door open. “The bathroom is in here. The place has a generator and its own well.”

  Good to know, Izzy thought.

  “I’m going to take a shower,” he said. “If you’re hungry, Pierre keeps the kitchen fully stocked.”

  “I’m fine. I’ll just...” –Izzy searched for a quick distraction— “read a book.”

  He hesitated then shook his head. “I’ll be out shortly. Try not to get into any trouble.”

  Izzy waited until she heard the water come on, then slipped out onto the front porch. She pulled her cellphone out and called Stone again. This time, he picked up.

  “Isabel?”

  “It’s me,” she whispered. “You told me to call once we settled into a spot. I don’t have long. The shifter is in the shower. I’m in a cabin in the middle of nowhere. I need you to get me out.”

  “Describe it,” he said.

  “Woods, mosquitos, and swamp,” she said. “There weren’t any road signs once we turned off.”

  Stone grew quiet. “I’m going to need a little more info.”

  Izzy glanced over her shoulder, but the bathroom door was still closed. “We turned right before we got into Jean Lafitte Park, then took a road that was barely visible. We made one or two more turns, then crossed a creek. I’m sorry. I’ve always had a bad sense of direction, especially when there aren’t street signs.”

  “It’ll be okay,” he said. “We have time. He’s not going to hurt you as long as you’re of use to him. You’ve given me enough information. I’ll be able to find you. Just stay put. You did the right thing by calling me.”

  Before she could ask when he was coming, Stone disconnected. Izzy turned the phone off and dropped it into her purse. She came back in the cabin as the bathroom door opened and Tristan stepped out.

  Water dripped down his bare chest, and his hair was slicked back away from his chiseled face. He’d wrapped a towel around his trim waist, which only accentuated his rippling muscles. For a moment, she forgot how to breathe.

  Tristan scanned the cabin. “Who were you talking to, Isabel?” he asked as he finger combed his long, white hair.

  Izzy flinched but managed to keep her composure. “No one,” she said. “Why do you ask?” Her voice squeaked.

  Tristan’s silver eyes narrowed. “I heard you speaking to someone. I’m a wolf, remember?”

  Oh God! How much had he heard? Izzy didn’t know and couldn’t ask. Maybe he just suspected and hoped she’d confess. She needed to stay calm.

  He stalked forward.

  Izzy’s heart skipped, and her mouth went dry. She couldn’t seem to tear her gaze away from his moist flesh. This close she could smell the soap he’d used.

  Tristan stopped in front of her and sniffed the air, then his expression darkened. “You’re lying,” he said. “Who was here?”

  The accusation snapped her out of her momentary fascination. “No one,” Izzy said, which was the truth. As far as she knew, they were alone. “I doubt there’s another soul around here for miles.”

  Tristan walked past her and stepped out onto the porch. His skin glistened in the afternoon light, making him appear even more ethereal. His head lifted and he inhaled deeply, taking in the scents from various directions. When he finished, his shoulders relaxed, but Tristan’s expression remained impassive as he came back inside.

  A water droplet slipped down the center of his chest then glided over the ridges of his abdomen before seeping into the towel around his hips. Izzy licked her lips, suddenly thirsty.

  It took her a moment to pick up on the silence. When she did, Izzy glanced up. Tristan’s body was rigid. He didn’t appear to be breathing at all. The heat in his mercury eyes looked hot enough to melt steel.

  Izzy cleared her throat. “You should probably get dressed,” she said.

  Tristan took a step forward. “Who were you talking to, Isabel?” She’d lied when he’d asked her the first time, but he didn’t know why. He couldn’t sense anyone nearby, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. When you were dealing with magic, you couldn’t be too careful.

  The heat from her body increased as he closed the distance between them. So did his. Isabel shouldn’t look at him like she wanted to eat him up. She shouldn’t be admiring his appearance at all. But she had been. There was no mistaking the hunger in her gaze or the longing.

  Tristan crowded her until she backed against the front door. The pulse jumped in her neck. He slapped his hands down beside her head, caging her. If she weren’t human, he would strip her and take her right here. But she was.

  His chest brushed hers. Tristan felt her nipples pebble just like they had last night when he’d kissed her. Isabel’s rich scent grew stronger. He wanted to roll in it—or at least his wolf did. His nostrils flared. Her desire wrapped around him, hardening every inch of his body.

  “Tell me the truth,” he said. He made sure they continued to touch, even though it was sheer torture.

  Tristan had meant to intimidate her into telling the truth. He had always been good at holding himself separate from his duties, but Isabel’s sweet citrusy scent was doing strange things to his head.

  She glared at him. “I was talking to myself. Okay?” Isabel put her hands on his chest and pushed, but she didn’t put much power behind the move. Instead, her fingers lingered on his hot skin and stroked across his pecs.

  Tristan quivered. Did she realize what she was doing? He wasn’t sure, until she did it again.

  Isabel’s eyes widened in surprise as his body responded to her caress. The woman was playing with fire. Her hands moved over to his arms, encircling his biceps.

  It wouldn’t take much effort to rip the clothes off her. Even now, Tristan tried to work out the easiest way to bare her.

  She stroked the length of his arm.

  Tristan froze, torn between wanting more and moving out of reach. It had been a long time since he’d taken a woman to his bed. Too long, given his state of arousal from a simple touch. Maybe later he’d go out and find a willing she-wolf to take the edge off.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  Isabel’s mouth opened then closed. “I don’t know. I just couldn’t stop myself.”

  That was the truth. Tristan didn’t need his wolf to know it. “If you keep touching me like that, you’re going to end up flat on your back in that bed,” he said.

  Isabel yanked her hand back as if she’d been burned.

  Tristan told himself that he wasn’t disappointed, but the damn ache in the middle of his chest told a different story.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Seven

  Izzy had managed to distract him—and herself. She had no idea how long it would last. Tristan struck her as the tenacious type. Why had she touched him?

  Sure, when he wasn’t scowling, Tristan was quite handsome in a god-like way. Not all women went for that type of guy. She glanced at his bare chest and wide shoulders. Okay, only someone blind wouldn’t notice all those muscles.

  When he’d cornered her, she hadn’t been able to see anything but his beautiful chest. With the heat pouring
off him and his muscles right in front of her face, she just couldn’t resist.

  Once she touched him, Izzy hadn’t been able to pull her hand away. His skin was smooth like marble but hot to the touch. When he’d trembled beneath her fingertips, she’d thought she had imagined it. Izzy had touched him again to be sure.

  The second time, he’d quivered and that rich spicy aroma of his skin had increased. She’d actually grown dizzy. Or maybe she’d just forgotten to breathe.

  Izzy had gone on dates with good-looking men, but none had anything on Tristan. He was in a category all his own.

  Tristan may not care for humans, but some part of him was attracted to her. If Izzy had needed any more proof, her doubts evaporated when she caught sight of the towel around his waist. There was no denying the hard ridge of arousal lifting the front of it.

  It took every fiber of her being to tear her gaze away, but not before she saw Tristan’s pained expression. “I’ll give you some privacy to get dressed,” she said.

  He nodded and waited for her to leave.

  Izzy stepped out onto the front porch and pressed a hand to her head. It had been so long since she’d touched anyone in a sexual way.

  Mindy thought she was wild and slept around, but Izzy hadn’t done that since her late teens. Even then, it had been out of rebellion and self-loathing.

  Those days were long behind her, but that didn’t mean she was dead inside. Even though she didn’t want to, Izzy found herself responding to Tristan. Her physical reaction to his nearness had nothing to do with logic and everything to do with primal need.

  How could you hate someone and want them at the same time?

  She didn’t know, but Izzy couldn’t deny the truth any longer. She may not like Tristan, but part of her wanted him. A part of her that she hadn’t allowed to surface for a long time.

  Izzy glanced at the closed screen door but didn’t spot Tristan. She hoped they didn’t have to spend too much time here. She had no idea what would happen if they did.