More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
And swung her arm up, pointing her gun right at his heart with his own pointed at her head, in a silent standoff.
He wasn’t Tristan to her; he was Tristan Caine and her brain had started to obsess about the name now.
Suddenly, he brought his free hand up, between the knife and his throat, and Morana's eyes widened, stunned, as she watched him push it away from his skin, the sharp blade cutting into his hand, blood suddenly trailing down his wrist to hers,
Her breath hitched in her throat, the realization that nobody had ever hated her as he did dawning upon her.
Morana kept her eyes on the raindrops, her heart pounding as he folded his legs and sat down a foot away from her, his eyes looking out.
"Why did you want me to stay here?" He sat there, not tensing, not looking at her, his gaze outwards. Silence. "Dante was right. I could have been safe, comfortable there," she told him quietly. "You are safe and comfortable here," he told her in an equally quiet voice, the words heavy with meaning.
In that moment, the enemy had done what no one had ever even tried to do for her. He had made her feel a little less lonely.
Tristan Caine: Apparently, you're not out of my system, Ms. Vitalio.
His nostrils flared, lips pursing, and he took a step to the side while holding the elevator doors back, the silent invitation to enter clear.
If I'm not leaving this city, you sure as hell aren't.
Me: You don’t get to decide that, Mr. Caine.
Tristan Caine: We have unfinished business, Ms. Vitalio.
She couldn't run. He wouldn't let her.
He hadn’t touched her like this the last time. He hadn’t breathed against her neck like this and rubbed his jaw over the spot against her shoulder, all the while keeping his mouth away from her.
If there was one thing she knew for a fact, it was that this man would not let anyone else kill her.
“Like I’m going to feel it every time I walk.” Something flared sharply in his eyes for a second before it was gone.
“Did I hurt you?” Low. Rough. Again. “You did shoot me,”
Tristan Caine: I told you I wasn’t a gentleman that very first night. Morana remembered that conversation that first night in Tenebrae, at the mansion, with her knives at her throat and him pressed into her front. Me: Yes, you did. It’s a good thing I’m not into gentlemen. Gentlemen can’t handle me. Tristan Caine: I don’t think anyone can handle you. Not if you don’t want to be handled.
“How is he with me?”
“Alive.”
He kissed her — softly, simply, expertly. He kissed her — until her knees turned to jelly and heat invaded her belly. He kissed her — without his tongue, without his hands, without his body. Just his lips — soft, firm, present — on hers.
