“Then, I guess I’d better cooperate,” Tristan said, placing his hands on her hips and helped her settle more comfortably on his lap.
“It would probably be for the best,” Marty said as she grabbed hold of his shirt and slowly pulled it free from his pants.
“What did you want to know?” Tristan asked as he watched her.
“I thought we’d start with what you and your brothers were talking about earlier that you didn’t want me to know about,” Marty said as she slowly pushed his shirt up.
“We were discussing the plan,” Tristan said, sitting up to make it easier for her to pull it off him. She knew that they needed to break the curse, but if she ever found out what Shayne had to do in order to break it...
She would never forgive them.
“And you felt the need to discuss it in an ancient language that I can’t understand?” Marty asked, blinking at him as she tossed his shirt aside.
“It did seem to make it easier for Shayne to call Liam an asshole,” Tristan said, watching her lips twitch as she shifted her focus to his torso.
“I can see how that would make things easier,” Marty murmured absently as she took her time tracing his tattoos with her fingertips. When she came to the scar on his chest from the gunshot, Marty gently ran her fingertips around it as her gaze flickered to the spot where the scar should have been from the emergency surgery that he had last month to save his life.
“The blisters on Shayne’s burns disappeared pretty quickly,” Marty pointed out as she took in the patch of healthy tan skin where a thick pink scar had been only a week ago.
“The burns were already beginning to fade by the time we left,” Tristan said, watching her absently nod as her gaze shifted back to his tattoos.
“And your migraines?” Marty asked as she took her time tracing the lines of his Celtic tattoo with her fingertip.
“Gone,” he said after a slight hesitation.
“Shayne wasn’t reborn,” she pointed out, looking lost in thought.
“No, he wasn’t,” Tristan said, wondering where she was going with this.
“But he has scars,” she said, giving up tracing his tattoos and began absently drawing circles on his chest.
“Yes, he does,” Tristan said, watching her.
“So, do you,” Marty said as her gaze flickered back to the gunshot wound on his chest. “But the scar from the surgery you had a month ago is gone. What do you think it means?”
“I have no idea what it means,” Tristan said as he reached up and ran his fingertips along her jaw.
“And you’re not worried?” Marty asked, glancing up to meet his gaze.
“Not even a little bit,” Tristan said, running his fingertips along her jaw one last time before he dropped his hand away and placed it on the soft swell of her belly.
“Because we have enough to worry about with the curse or because you don’t want to scare me?” Marty asked, placing her hand over his.
Because he was fucking terrified that the curse wasn’t done with them yet.
He shouldn’t be here, not after he’d died on that table, but his brothers found a way around the curse, and now, he had to wonder what would happen once they broke the curse once and for all.
But he couldn’t tell his wife that, so instead, Tristan said, “Because you and I are finally going to get our happily ever after,” as he leaned over so that he could brush his lips against hers and-
“Who’s Lasarín?”
-chuckled when she decided to move on with her interrogation.
“Do you want the short version or the long one?” Tristan asked as he settled back against the pillows.
“What’s the short version?” she asked as he absently caressed the soft swell of her belly through her shirt.
“If Shayne hadn’t been forced to send her away to save us, he probably would have married her, had an obscene amount of children with her, and lived happily ever after,” Tristan said on a heartfelt sigh as he moved to kiss her again only to end up frowning when she suddenly climbed off his lap, scrambled across the bed, tore open her nightstand drawer, frantically searched for something, grabbed a bag of Reese’s Pieces a few seconds later only to quickly make her way back, climb onto his lap, shift, grumble, and shift again before she released a heartfelt sigh, ripped open the bag, grabbed a handful of Reese’s Pieces, tossed them in her mouth and gestured for him to get on with it.
