Eyes widening, Morana gripped his slippery biceps. “What do you mean?”
“I just found out,” he told her. “I’ll need to check for bugs in the bedroom but until then, I didn’t want to risk talking there.”
Morana quietly took a dollop of his shampoo in her palm and rubbed them together, lathering them as she waited for him to continue. He sat down on the marble bench in the shower so she wouldn’t have to tiptoe too much, his head the height of her neck. Massaging the shampoo in his scalp, she wondered if he’d ever had anyone care for him like this.
His eyes closed as her fingers dug into his scalp, his breath leaving him. “Dante isn’t dead.”
“I know.”
Blue focused on her. Morana smiled. “Once I calmed down, it was pretty easy to figure out. You guys had been off for a few days. And I get why you didn’t tell me, as much as it sucked. You needed my response to be authentic.”
He stared at her for a long moment, the admiration in his eyes unmistakable. “Fuck.”
Morana stroked his head, running her nails over his scalp. “I know my smartness turns you on.”
“It does.”
“Tell me next time though,” she told him seriously. “I’ll give an academy-award worthy performance but don’t pull this shit next time.”
He simply nodded. “It wasn’t my idea. Dante wanted to do it this way.”
Well, that definitely did make her feel better. Tristan stood up silently, washing off the shampoo, the suds running over his back.
Morana, finally, saw his tattoo properly. On the left blade of his shoulder, a tribal tattoo of a wolf howled at a full moon, the detailing of each stroke of black amazing. Tracing her finger over the tattoo, her heart clenched as she realized what it represented.
Luna.
She walked around to stand in front of him, the wall at her back, and let her eyes trace the rest of his scars and tattoos. A bullet marked his right bicep, hitting a skull in the middle. A phrase went down his left side, right beside his abs.
And so the night will end.
Morana traced the phrase, her fingers lingering on the slashed scar underneath the hard muscle. Moving up to his left pec, right above his heart, there was a symbol she didn’t know the meaning of. She touched it with her fingers, looking up at him in question.
“One day,” he whispered quietly between them, the two words filled with so much her heart squeezed.
Morana swallowed, asking a question she dreaded. “What if the day never comes?”
He shook his head, sending water spraying out. “It will. Whatever the answer is, I will find it.”
Morana didn’t know how to tread through this conversation so she tabled it for the moment. She wanted to find answers too, for him and for herself. But what if the answer wasn’t what he’d hoped for? Would he be able to cope? Would he be able to survive?
Her chest ached wondering about it.
“I can see the questions in your eyes,” he said softly. “But I know, I know, she’s alive.”
Morana felt a tear go down her cheek, mixing with the water. “Then, we will find her.”
He looked at her for a long minute before slowly pressing his lips to hers. It was soft, simple, but it made her heart clench.
Pulling back, he pressed his forehead against hers, his mouth slightly trembling. He gritted his jaw to tighten it and Morana saw, pressing her hands to his face, holding him. They stood there like that for long minutes, before he suddenly pulled away, shutting the water off and handing her a towel.
Morana inhaled deeply and dried herself while he did the same, then followed him naked into the bedroom. He handed her a fresh t-shirt without a word that she quickly donned, and put on a pair of boxers before pulling open a drawer and bringing out a scanner.
Getting into bed, Morana saw as he ran the scanner through every inch of the room, finding only one bug near the door. Opening the window, he threw it out into the lake before closing it again and sliding into bed beside her.
Morana followed, settling against him, her breasts squashed against his chest, her legs twined with his.
“Who bugged the house?”