Healing Kiss, page 16
He gripped the phone with cold fingers. He needed Lillian to trust him with the truth of her situation. If he were missing any details or there were others involved, he needed to know. Not only so he could protect her and any other innocent victims, but because lies and distrust were no way to begin a relationship. Hadn’t he been down that road before? If she wouldn’t share her past with him, how would they have any hope of a future?
He shoved the phone in his back pocket and went to find Lillian.
Lillian had changed her clothes and returned to the entertainment room, pacing back and forth in front of the stone fireplace, but she stopped as soon as she saw Tristan in the doorway.
“Is everything okay?”
He nodded but didn’t say anything, which had the effect of making her heart beat harder if that were possible. “What is it?”
“Nothing alarming, I promise. We can talk over breakfast. C’mon. I won’t have you attempt to heal my mom until you have a good meal in you.”
She thought about insisting they leave at once, but it was clear he knew something he wasn’t telling her, so she followed him into the kitchen. “Can I help?”
He paused in the act of pulling out eggs and milk from the refrigerator. “You can sit and relax and talk to me.”
She did as he said, pulling a chair up to the bar and watching him work. “I thought you said you weren’t much of a cook?”
“Scrambling eggs isn’t cooking.”
She searched for something to talk about. “How do you spend your free time? I mean, when I’m not around to complicate things.”
He laughed. “I spend a lot of time figuring out how to spend money.”
She smiled. “Be serious.”
“I am serious. I donate to a lot of causes.”
Kinetica among them. She stilled, her pulse throbbing almost painfully “Donations to research firms working on finding a cure for Huntington’s, like…like Kinetica? That’s why the CEO came to your house yesterday, isn’t it?” He would fund the organization that killed her mother.
He turned from the stove. “Not Kinetica. I had considered a donation but changed my mind.”
“Why?”
He set a mug in front of her. “I’m not convinced it would be a good investment.” He filled the mug with coffee from the pot and handed her cream and sugar, then turned his attention to putting bread in the toaster.
Did Tristan have any idea of just how Kinetica accomplished their research? She couldn’t control the long, slow shiver coursing through her nervous system. He seemed to sense her teeming emotions because he scooped egg onto plates, added toast, then set one in front of her. Their gazes caught, and some dark emotion she couldn’t name flickered in his eyes.
“Are you cold?”
She shook her head. “No.”
The single word seemed to stick on her tongue, and she licked dry lips. Would he kiss her again? Did she want him to?
A longing struck hard, and her heart pounded the truth into her. She wanted Tristan to want her. She didn’t want him to have Angelina or any other woman. In fact, the thought made her want to scratch those women’s eyes out. The strength of her jealousy was so shocking, it rendered her speechless.
Tristan focused on taking a bite of egg, when all he wanted to do was go to the woman across from him and pull her into his arms. He would reassure her everything would be okay. He would find a way to keep her safe…as long as she told him the truth.
“What’s it like…to have all this?” Lillian swept a hand around the kitchen.
“Lonely.” The word popped out before he thought about it, but he realized it was true. He was lonely. Or had been, until Lillian’s arrival.
She frowned, her gaze widening. “You’re joking.”
He flicked a glance around the room, seeing it through her eyes. Wide glistening gray countertops stretched in front of him, and beyond that a large round kitchen table with eight cushioned chairs circled it. The table was surrounded by windows that looked out on the patio and pool. Shiny wood floors covered the massive room.
His gaze returned to meet hers. The house looked warm and inviting, but it had felt empty…until now. In the short time Lillian had been here, his home had come alive. “No, it’s true. This is a big house, and I live here by myself. It can be lonely.”
She gazed at him, her large eyes questioning and…wistful? She blinked and shrugged and whatever softness he thought he saw vanished under a blank veneer. She dropped her gaze and rubbed at a nonexistent spot on her jeans.
“You don’t have to live alone. I’m sure any number of women would be more than willing to move in with you. Your former fiancée An…Angelina, for instance.”
She stumbled over the name. Was she jealous? He dropped his gaze to her pink lips but couldn’t seem to move past them. A ripple of excitement moved through his veins. If she were jealous, she cared, no matter how hard she fought whatever this thing was that was happening between them.
He presented her with what he hoped was his most attractive smile. “I see you’ve been busy Googling me again.”
She shook her head. “No, this time it came straight from the lion’s mouth.”
His smile faded. Of course. It would be just like Angelina to stake her territory. If he wasn’t enjoying Lillian’s company so much, he might have been angry.
Her gaze flicked away and back, her cheeks rosy, and he realized he had been staring at her lips. He raised his head until their eyes met.
She cleared her throat. “Do you still love her?”
“No.” He didn’t have to think about it, which should have been surprising, but was not.
“Why haven’t you told her, then? Why is she so confident you’ll get back together?”
He took his time answering, using the opportunity to swallow.
“Because I didn’t know I didn’t love her until last night.”
“Oh.”
He felt the instant the knowledge sunk in, and she believed it. In that moment, he hated the task in front of him, hated how he must destroy the easy contentment between them with the truth, hated that he would be the one to cause her fear. But he knew the truth was necessary if there were to be any hope for a future together.
Lillian managed to take a bite of the eggs, but she barely tasted them. Thankfully, Tristan had turned his attention to his own meal, leaving her to her thoughts, which were mostly chaotic. She ate as much as she could, then brought her dish to the sink and scraped the leftovers into the garbage disposal.
He followed with his own empty plate. “That’s all you can eat? You’ve barely made a dent in your eggs.”
“I’m afraid I’m still a bit nauseous. Can we go and see your mom now?” she asked after he’d opened the dishwasher, and she’d placed her fork and plate inside. Now that she was feeling better, it was high time to repay her debt and move on.
“Are you sure you’re feeling well enough?”
“Yes, since I’ve been fed. Thanks for making me breakfast.”
“Of course.” Their gazes caught, and there was that dark emotion in his eyes again. But now she knew it for what it was because an identical feeling filled her. Desire. Tristan wanted her. She could see the struggle in his expression—like he was helpless to resist the pull between them. Like he fought the feeling and failed, as she was doing.
“What is it?” Her voice sounded husky and breathless.
He leaned toward her, and she closed her eyes, waiting for what would come next. Her heartbeat kept up a steady, thumping beat, and she could feel his cool breath and the scent of him, like a fresh mountain rain, covering her. Her skin tingled, her nerves thrumming and muscles tightening in anticipation at the thought of his lips pressed against hers.
He tugged on a strand of her hair. “Zoey.”
His deep voice rumbled near her ear, something about his tone setting her body on edge. Her pulse fluttered and jumped, her muscles tightening, and she opened her eyes to see the heat in his gaze.
“What are you hiding under this?”
What did a person say when they were expecting A and got B? She started to deny she hid anything and then clamped her mouth shut. She must have looked ridiculous because his warm gaze softened, and his eyes peered into hers like he’d found the door to her heart and would pry it open. In that moment, it hit her that she’d fallen into some clever web he’d woven—maybe that he’d been weaving since the moment she’d met him—a web that demanded truth. He was far too smart…too much in control of his emotions, while she was…what was she? Naive, silly, foolish?
She pushed at his chest, making space between them until she could breathe. She couldn’t do this…reveal her secrets…she couldn’t give him what he demanded without putting him in danger. She had been under some hypnotic trance of his making, but now she was painfully aware of what she must do.
“I’m not hiding.” She tried to inject a lighter tone to her voice, but the words came out sounding brittle and useless.
Her denial didn’t seem to make a dent in his composure, and he leaned toward her, as if he could force the truth from her lips. “If you show me now, I promise I’ll never ask again.”
She shook her head, crossing her arms. Deny, deny, deny…it was her only defense. “There’s nothing to reveal. Listen, if you want me to attempt to heal your mom, we must go now.”
He towered over her, his brawny shoulders and the massive amount of energy he projected, dominating the space between them. “I shouldn’t have pressed you. There’s no need to show me if you don’t want to.”
His deep voice soothed frazzled nerves, like a familiar song. She suspected he was deliberate in his efforts to look harmless. He held out his hand, palm up.
Don’t hold his hand.
She’d never had an out-of-body experience, but she could imagine this was what it felt like…like watching someone else, a softer version of Lillian…a Lillian who hadn’t spent two fear-filled years in hiding, wondering if her safety was a figment of her imagination or if it would last a lifetime…a Lillian who understood love was within her grasp and who yearned to reach for it.
This Lillian placed her hand in his, even with the other wiser, smarter Lillian warning her to be cautious. She curled her fingers in Tristan’s warm palm and held on tight, glorying in the familiar tingling as his energy filtered into her body and brushed against her heart.
“I need you.”
She raised her gaze to his, and she couldn’t look away. Maybe he wasn’t as in control as she’d imagined. The desire in his eyes lit up the blue of his irises and set her body on fire.
She blinked and took a step toward him, as if he’d tugged on a string binding them together. He pressed his lips against hers and stole her breath and every rational thought scattered in multiple directions like leaves in a sudden breeze.
His lips were gentle yet firm, and he smelled of the cool mint and leather scent she’d come to associate with him. The stubble on his jaw rubbed against her sensitive skin, and she shivered and pressed herself shamelessly against his hard body.
Tristan didn’t seem to mind. He wrapped his arms around her, his broad shoulders holding her tight and deepening the kiss until Lillian forgot everything but the tug of his warm mouth on hers. For a while, they stood like that, tasting each other with their lips and tongues. Then his hands found her breasts, and she couldn’t prevent the small whimper in the back of her throat. Desire shot through her, and she gasped and writhed underneath him.
“Tristan,” she moaned in a voice that didn’t sound like hers. “What are you doing?”
“Getting to know you better.” She sensed the smile in his words.
“We can’t do this.”
He gazed down at her, his dimple on full display. “You want me to stop?”
“No…but we must.”
He gazed into her eyes, the twinkle disappearing into seriousness. “Why must we stop, Zoey?”
His eyes held mysteries, and quite suddenly, she was tired. Tired of dodging questions and denying the attraction between them. Tired of telling lies and looking over her shoulder. Tired of being tired. Only one thing stopped her from tearing off the wig and pouring out her heart. If she let Tristan into her world, she was handing him a potential death sentence. And she didn’t want that for him. She didn’t want him to have to fight anxiety every day and pretend everything was all right.
“I can’t do this.” She pushed against his chest. To protect him, Lillian must disappear from his presence as fast as she’d entered it. “I’ll get my things and then we need to see your mom.”
“Zoey, wait.”
She ignored his plea, nearly tripping in her haste to get away.
Chapter Twenty
Tristan didn’t talk much on the car ride over, except when he reminded Lillian again not to put herself in danger. In all fairness, he tried to engage in small talk, but she avoided his gaze and gave him one-syllable answers until he quit trying. By the time they pulled up to his mom’s house, her throat burned with all she’d wanted to say but didn’t.
“What is your name, honey?” Brenda King said now, squinting at Lillian from her recliner, her hands curled around a pair of wire-framed glasses in her lap.
Lillian had figured Tristan’s mom might still be in bed, but Tristan had reassured her that wouldn’t be the case, and he was right.
He crouched beside his mom’s chair and captured her hands between his own, his voice taking on a gentle note. “Mom, this is Zoey Mills, remember? You met her yesterday when you were getting your tests.”
Brenda frowned and put on the glasses with trembling hands. She blinked at Lillian, her eye movements not quite normal. “I did?
“Yes, you said it felt like someone hugged you.”
“Oh, I remember now.” A wide smile broke through. “You’re Tristan’s girlfriend.”
“Just a friend,” Lillian rushed to say. She didn’t know whether she should be grateful she wasn’t Tristan’s girlfriend or disappointed. She was pretty sure she’d dreamt about him, and ever since she saw him this morning, she couldn’t stop thinking about the intimacy they’d shared and how it felt to be in his arms.
His sharp gaze caught hers before she could look away, and he grinned. “I’m working on that, Mom.”
Warmth flooded her cheeks, and she avoided his gaze by focusing on Brenda. Much as she wanted Tristan in her life, it was dangerous to allow herself to think it possible. The sooner she attempted the healing, the sooner she could get herself out of temptation’s way. She stepped forward. “Is it okay if I hold your hands like I did before?”
“All right.” Brenda’s expression didn’t change, making Lillian wonder if she had any idea what Lillian had asked or what was about to happen.
“Let me get you a chair, Zoey.” Tristan lifted a blue padded armchair from the dining room table and placed it behind Lillian. “Can I get you something to drink—coffee, tea?
She shook her head. “I’m good.”
He hovered over her, far too near.
“Why don’t you sit over there?” She tilted her head toward the dining room table. She needed Tristan nearby but not so close she couldn’t concentrate.
Tristan smiled because he understood exactly why she sent him away. “Of course.” But still he didn’t move, and despite herself, she found herself glancing up at him. His gaze locked on hers. “Remember what we talked about.”
She nodded, and warmth flooded her body. Of course, she remembered. He did not want her overusing her talent. As anxious as he was to see if Lillian could cure his mom, he didn’t want to put her own life at risk.
Once Tristan was seated, Lillian clasped Brenda’s hands, closed her eyes, and focused on the dark shape in her mind. Breathe in. Power inflated Lillian’s lungs, zipped through her veins, and poured into her central nervous system. She latched onto the light, and in seconds, a tiny spark of orange flame erupted between the two of them, shifting and multiplying.
Breathe out. The energy reversed direction, racing along her nerve endings, pulsing from Lillian’s fingertips into Brenda’s hands.
Breathe in. Lillian absorbed more of the energy in the room. Tristan’s energy.
Breathe out. The energy rushed from her fingertips, pulsing and glowing orange, covering the dark figure in her mind.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Lillian wasn’t sure how long she injected power into Brenda’s body. Long enough for her foot to fall asleep and her arms to feel sluggish. Long enough for her to realize she was funneling too much energy from Tristan, and she needed to stop or risk harming him. Long enough to know she would not be able to cure Brenda King of Huntington’s no matter how badly she wanted to. The disease had too strong a grip on Brenda’s body, and as she’d suspected, their body chemistry was not a good match.
“Enough.” Tristan gripped her shoulder, shaking her.
She released Brenda’s hands and opened her eyes to see him glowering over her, his chiseled features creased in concern.
“Is she okay?” Brenda’s voice sounded like she’d spoken into a long pipe positioned miles away. “Nancy, get her some water.”
The room tilted and swayed, and Lillian closed her eyes and tried hard not to pass out. Thank goodness she was still sitting.
Tristan crouched to wrap an arm around Lillian’s shoulder “Here, take a drink.” He held a glass of cold water to her lips.
She did as he said, the drink and Tristan’s cool energy clearing her head.
