Tristan's mouth hangs, his wide eyes darting to and fro, taking everything in. His breath comes out in sharp gasps, and I reach out to press the side of my body to his. He reaches around me, keeping me close even when he doesn't notice it.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" I tell him, trying to catch his attention. He turns his face to me, softly smiling in awe.
"It is. Exquisite. Not as much as you, but exquisite." And he turns back to face the trees and the grass dancing to the soft breeze. The memory of his words dawn on me. How he was kidnapped as a child. Raised in those close quarters, and how the wards kept him from leaving the Little Palace. He's been a slave, locked away for his entire life.
My heart swells. I want him to see it. I want him to see the entire world and every realm. The goodness in this man reminds me of Ren, but there's something even more innocent about him. Even when they share characteristics — he's good like Ren, and protective like Apollo — there's always something that makes them who they are. And Tristan has a sweet innocence to him none of the others does.
A girl pokes her head out of the door. She looks my age, but from what Prince mentioned that means nothing to fae. Her skin is the color of crushed lavender, a couple of short horns sprouting from her forehead. Her eyes go round when our gazes lock, then her lips twist in annoyance.
"Master bids you come this way." And she crosses her arms over her chest, propping herself against the door as if waiting for her misbehaving child.
Bumping my hip against Tristan, I capture his gaze. "Let's go. We've been lucky up until now, but I don't think they'll wait for us any longer." And I speed up to climb the stairs. "Besides, we need to get some food into this puppy. He's skin and bones."
Tristan follows in silence. The girl closes the door behind us, then takes the lead. The moment we cross the threshold, everything changes. It doesn’t look like a church anymore, but a regular house. Everything is made of wood. Thick branches make up the columns to each side of a set of stairs. Intricate swirls decorate every naked inch of the walls. Dark blue leaves and flowers so white they seem to glow hang off the ceiling. I blink, gawking at every inch of the place as the fae leads us on. It’s all very organic as if the place itself could breathe. The girl stops in a corridor of rooms, and motions for two doors, close to one another.
"These are the guest rooms. You'll each have one for as long as Master sees fit." And she leaves. Unlike Prince, even though her true face is different from ours, she's still beautiful. I glimpse at Tristan, trying to catch a clue of what he thought of her.
But he's not looking at the pretty fae who just left us. He's looking at me, his eyes and his focus on me. The corner of his lips tilt in a smile.
"I swear we'll explore the place," I tell him, opening a smile. "Just let me find some food. I might also need a shower."
"Oh." His cheeks burn pink for a moment. "Then I'll wait for you in my room." And he makes to turn.
"No," I call out, trying to reach out for his arm and failing. Oreo does weigh a bit. "Stay with me. I can shower and you tell me a little about yourself."
His cheeks turn to an even brighter pink. "Are you sure?"
Gods, this is so freaking cute. This huge, tall, broad man, all shredded muscles so hard even his skin feels weird. This man in his viking blond hair and beard. He has everything to be the mean alpha kind. The man who bends you over the table and spanks you, the kind of guy with morals that straddle a line. But no. He's good, he's all goodness inside of him, even when he doesn't know what to do with it.
I chew on my lower lip for a moment, allowing my gaze to drift down his chest to his sweatpants. Glory to sweatpants. His cock twitches under my scrutiny, and that just makes me hotter. I clear my throat and nod once, pretending I'm not about to climb him like a tree. "Pretty sure."
"Then... Then I'll ask that girl for food. And you can start your shower." He doesn't even wait for my answer before he sets off. Is he that hopeful I'll be done with it by the time he gets back? I shake my head. Adorable. A man the size of a wardrobe, and he's adorable.
I turn to the thick door and release a breath. There's something I didn't stop to think about. Do fae even shower? Maybe they don’t even get dirty. Maybe Prince didn’t consider plumbing when he picked his place, and the best I can get is a bucket of lukewarm water and a cloth.
I shake myself back to reality. Damn it, Cassandra. You just escaped certain slavery at the hands of a violent vampire. Even if I’m not sure about Prince’s plans, at least he sounds like an academic. The sort of person who acts with rationality. He may have hunted down my ancestors, but it’s clear he needs me now. I don’t hope for a friendship because I know he’s using me, and I'm okay with that. Better than the Kayn option. I will accept whatever bathing commodities I have, as long as this cell is bigger than the last. I open the door, and it doesn't even creak.
To my surprise, it's not even a cell. Itisa room. Huge glass windows turned to the garden, and the walls and ground are cut from wood so dark it looks like stone. The rosewood bed is stunning, piled high with soft covers and what looks like hundreds of pillows. There's a tapestry in one of the walls, giving some color to the place, and a rug on the floor. A chandelier hangs from the ceiling, but it's electric. I flick the switch on and off, testing it. Electricity. That's more than I expected.
I put Oreo down on the bed. He stretches himself and sits up, watching me with big, curious eyes. I run my fingers through his black fur, massaging behind the ears. "You're such a good boy. Don't worry. Tristan went after food for you. You're free and safe now."
His tail wags for a moment, then he lies down and his eyes flutter shut. He must be exhausted after all that adrenaline. And sleeping on the floor is horrible. My own body cries out for this bed. But first, shower.
There is no closet, but a massive wardrobe to one side. So when my gaze lands on the extra door inside the bedroom, my hopes shoot through the roof. I amble that way, afraid I'm about to have my heart broken, but when I push the door open, it's to find a bathroom. Again cut from wood, and it feels like we’re all inside a huge tree. There's a sink in a marble vanity, gold veins running across the white stone, a showerhead encapsulated by a glass box to one side, and a huge claw tub in the middle of the room.
I shudder in relief, no joke. I race to the toilet, even if my bladder's almost empty, just to sit on a freaking toilet again. Once I'm done, I wash my hands and find an elegant rack of towels behind the door. They feel like the softest thing I’ve ever touched. I have no idea what material this is. Like someone captured a cloud and made fabric out of it.
Two minutes later, I'm sitting on the bottom of the tub even before it's filled. I should take a shower so the falling water helps me scrub myself clean, but I want to avoid glass boxes for a while. Just for a couple of days.
Tristan's steps announce his return, and he raps his knuckles on the door. "Come in," I call him, hiding my breasts with the soap bubbles that, again, smell like something I can’t describe. Fae have access to crazy stuff. The good kind of crazy stuff.
Tristan's eyes almost pop off their sockets when he sees me in the tub, and he makes to leave. I have to insist that I don't mind until he sits close to the tub with his back to me.
"Tell me about your family," I ask him, throwing water on my face and hair.
He is quiet for a moment. "There's not much to tell. I don't remember them."
"Were you this young?" He nods. "Don't you remember anything that could take us back to them? Let's find your family."