CASSANDRA
Tristan has no idea about the filth in my head when he says these words. The innocence. The purity in his heart. I look at it and hunger to see it corrupt.
Not that I'm the dirtiest person out there. Apart from sleeping with three guys at the same time, I haven't gone places, sexually speaking. Even anal is something I did only a handful of times in life. It doesn't mean I'm not interested, and it doesn't mean my imagination isn't filled with ideas, and wishes, and desires. It's just that I never had the right person to try it, fearing they'd call me a whore or a weirdo, and when I found the right people... Things sort of fell through.
Tristan carries me in his muscular arms back to our rooms, and I keep a hand around his bicep, feeling every tiny move in the muscle. Damn, he's hot. He's so freaking hot, and he has no idea about it. I bet no one ever told him so, with the way he was raised and the way he lived. This will change now. He's too good for this world, and I'll let him know how good he is.
He opens the door to my room and Oreo pushes it and slides inside. We follow him and, before Tristan can put me down on the bed, the puppy hops on it and uses his cute nose to nudge the covers up so he can slide under them. Tristan stops, staring at the mound under the covers as it makes itself comfortable. In two seconds flat, Oreo is snoring.
"Let's find somewhere else," I whisper to Tristan, and he agrees, walking out, closing the door, then entering his bedroom. The decoration is exactly like mine, and I don't give it a second thought as the man walks me to bed, putting me down gently as if I might break. I put Prince's book away and smile up at Tristan as he sits on the edge of the mattress. His clear blue eyes crinkle in the corners with a soft smile when he looks at me.
Butterflies set off in my stomach when my gaze locks with his. Tristan has been a solid presence these days, someone I trust and can count on, someone who wants to keep me safe just because. He feels affection toward me, even when we've met days ago. It's good to have someone caring about me.
Reaching out, I intertwine our fingers. "I wish I would have taken you somewhere nice. After everything the Collector did to you, I wanted us to see the world together."
He grips my fingers back, his huge hand devouring mine. "We could run away. Try to break his wards and disappear."
I smile. "That would be nice. Maybe that book could teach me something." I jut my chin towards the book Prince handed me, but I know it's unlikely. He would never give me something I could use against him. "What about you? Isn't there anything you'd like to learn about yourself?"
His biceps curl, his gaze growing unfocused. "Actually, yes. There's something the boss told me time and time again. I wish I could learn the truth behind it."
"What is it?"
His jaw clenches for a moment, and he changes his weight. "He told me gargoyles were created by mages hundreds of years ago. That because we were created, we're not... Not natural."
My brows raise. "Not natural? What's that supposed to mean?"
And Tristan's face goes so sober I know this subject matters the world to him. "He said we don't have souls."
Souls. I don't think I've ever stopped to think about that. When people die, it's said they go to the Underworld. For how often the ones around me talk about the place, I've come to assume it's real, but... Do souls really go there? Does it mean souls exist? What are souls anyway?
With everything that's happening to me, being the Shadow Mage, and killing the Chosen One, I could assume my soul is rotten. But when I stop to think about my feelings, and how much I want to see my mates again, and how hard I want to survive... There's no doubt.
"If I have a soul, Tristan, then you have one too." And I grip his fingers the hardest I can. "You're good. Much better than I am. You worry about me, and you're sweet, and brave. There's no way you don't have a soul."
"But..."
I shake my head. "No buts. Tristan, this is just something the Collector told you so you would feel less. Less of a person. Less deserving. It's just a way he used to convince you to obey."
He stays silent for a moment, and I brush the back of his hand with a thumb. Tristan takes a deep breath, his chest rising. "Yes, maybe you're right." And though he agrees, I can tell he's not convinced. After the Collector told him that lie so many times, it will take him a while to un-learn it. His eyes meet mine, the blue bright with the light pouring from the windows. "There's so much I don't know, Cass. I don't mean to let you down."
My heartmelts. Gods, how can someone be this good? Reaching out, I cradle his face in my hands, his blond beard scratching my palms. "You would never, because you're amazing the way you are."
He smiles, and I lean in. Tristan cocks his head in doubt. Awareness washes over me as we stare at each other, our lips brushing.
"You never kissed anyone, did you?" I murmur against his lips. He shakes his head. His eyes drill into mine, freezing me to the spot. "Do you want to kiss me?"
He either shivers or grows tense, all I know is his body trembles slightly. A big hand cups the back of my head, the other curling around my waist. "Very much," he murmurs back, his breath coating my tongue.
I kiss Tristan. He presses his lips against mine, then parts them when I lick at the seam. Through his paused, clumsy tries, I notice this has to be his first time, indeed, but Tristan is so focused on learning we're soon moving in perfect rhythm against one another. His tongue strokes mine in fluid, languid moves that make me clamp my thighs together. The cold hand on my skin explores down to my hips, then up until his thumb brushes the underside of my breast.
"Tristan," I mouth, pulling back an inch. "You said you would massage me."
"Um." His eyes are clouded with lust, and the huge tent in his pants makes me flare with lust. "How do I do that?" asks him with the roughest voice I've ever had. It grits down my spine, making me shiver.
Leaning back into the bed, I kick off both of my boots, then raise a foot. "Start with the foot. Thumbs to the sole." He does as I bid. "Press gently, making circles."
Tristan does exactly that, his gaze fastened on my lips. I reach out, gripping his strong thigh and massaging it the same way he massages my foot. His cock twitches. A man this big, this handsome, and he looks hypnotized. By me.