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Fuck, she was cute in the morning.
“I have something for you.”
He saw as curiosity got better of her and she opened one eye before groaning. “It better not be sex because I will kill you, Tristan. You come anywhere near my pussy for a week and I will murder you.”
His lips twitched before he could help himself. “I didn’t hear you complaining last night.”
“I did,” she argued, moving up, light hitting her neck and he saw the marks littering her skin. Satisfaction slammed through him. He liked that. He liked that a lot.
Shaking his head, he pulled up the blinds, bathing the penthouse bedroom in sunlight.
Morana narrowed her eyes before falling back on the pillow, groaning. “I can’t move. I’m sore.”
Tristan bent down, picking her up in his arms, sheets and all, and carried her to the spacious bathroom. Setting her down on her feet, he pressed a soft kiss to her swollen lips, half sure she would bite his tongue off if he deepened it. He didn’t think she had any idea how much she amused him, the emotion something he’d never been very familiar with until her.
His chest lighter than it had ever been, he ran her a bath, knowing he had been too intense last night. But then, he’d had a good reason.
Pouring in some of the bath salts that were now stacked on the shelves, he gave her another soft kiss, looking into her supremely satisfied, languid eyes.
“Come find me after you’re done,” he murmured against her lips and left her in peace to soothe her body. Stripping down the dirty sheets, he made the bed, humming a little tune and stopped as he realized he was humming.
Was this what happiness felt like?
Shaking his head, he went to the guest bathroom and showered and shaved, getting ready for the day. As had become routine with them, he went to prepare breakfast while she got ready. Not many people knew about how much he enjoyed cooking. There was something so satisfying about creating something delicious from simple raw ingredients.
Feeding Morana though? It was almost a high he craved. He loved reading her face. From the very beginning, he had fed her and known exactly how she’d enjoyed his food. Seeing her eyes close and her breath catch, as she took that first bite, always got him a little hard. But more than that, it was the joy of connecting with her, knowing something he was doing was giving her happiness. He craved it.
Whipping up some eggs together, Tristan wondered how things were going to change now. Last night had been a party to officially announce Morana and him taking over the Shadow Port mafia business. With the death of both the leaders last week, things had been a little turbulent, to say the least.
After talking things through, Dante was taking things over in Tenebrae while Tristan needed to handle Shadow Port. This would be a new Alliance, a new era, between brothers. It was perfect, really. Tristan had never loved Tenebrae, the city roiled with too many memories for him that he would rather put away. And Morana loved this penthouse in Shadow Port, loved the city if he was honest. She especially loved that his bike was here, as she’d told him after he’d taken her out on it a few nights ago.
This building was already his but now it would become the mafia headquarter of the city. He needed to get staff, get security, and amp the place up. If they were going to make their life here, he needed to rest knowing it was as safe as he could make it.
Beating the eggs, he let his thoughts drift to Dante, slightly worried about him. He was fond of the asshole and lately, he’d sensed something darker in him than ever before. He’d tried to talk to him about him, tried to get him to open up about what had happened when he’d gone underground, but Dante was tight-lipped about it. And with Amara in the wind, Tristan was worried – not just for her, because he was fond of her too, but also for Dante.
The sound of footsteps made him look up at the woman who had been his reason for existence for so long he didn’t know where he began and she ended anymore. He put himself in Dante’s shoes, wondering what he would do if she disappeared without a word now.
The glass in his hand shattered.
“What the fuck!” she exclaimed, running down the steps to him as he breathed through his nostrils, numbing his pain by sheer will and looked at her. Her hair in a messy bun on her head that was slightly lopsided, her rectangular glasses perched on her nose, her body in a simple flowy dress with flowers on it, she took his breath away.
“Does it hurt? Shit!”
Taking a hold of his cut right hand, she turned on the tap and cold water ran through his palm, cuts stinging momentarily. Tristan looked down at the only woman who had ever cared if he hurt and pressed his lips to her head, trying to contain everything he was feeling. Some days, he felt like he would explode with the emotions she pulled from his once-dead heart.
Clueless about the turmoil inside him, she took his other hand and was about to put it under water as well when she saw the tape on his finger.
He hadn’t planned on showing her until later but as she looked up at him with curious, beautiful eyes, his wildcat who just purred for him, he felt something in his chest melting.
“I’m cynical, Morana,” he told her, holding her hand and her attention. “I don’t believe in marriages. I don’t believe
in men who wear their rings with their wives only to take it off later. But I believe in loyalty. I believe in commitment.”
He saw her eyes shimmering, knew she’d already figured it out. He wasn’t surprised – sometimes she knew him better than he knew himself. She was his gift for a fucked up life, this woman of fire that warmed his chilled, lonely bones.
“I can’t marry you,” he told her, “not until I fulfill the promise I made to my sister.”
She nodded in understanding.
