Scarlet’s heart kicked up a notch as desire shot through her.
She wanted to slap him.
Or herself.
She wasn’t sure.
“Nope,” Tristan said, looking away from her and opening his computer back up. “No field trips to the outside world.”
Scarlet pressed her palms flat on the desk above Tristan. She was angry. And he wasn’t her boss. “You can’t just keep me here like some prisoner.”
“Then leave.”
She narrowed her eyes, but said nothing.
“If you want to go running around the backwoods of Georgia while some crazy person is hunting you down, by all means, go.” His green eyes flashed. “I’ll tell Gabriel you said goodbye.”
Scarlet pursed her lips.
She was barefoot, without any money or a cell phone, and wearing thin cotton pajamas in the cold autumn of Georgia.
Leaving the cabin by foot wasn’t an option.
Was he bluffing?
She leaned in to examine his challenging eyes more closely.
The smell of leather and soap met her nostrils, shooting warmth and need through her veins.
What is wrong with me?
Her eyes burned as she tried to keep her gaze steady.
Tristan leaned across the desk, his face mere inches from hers. With a menacing voice he said, “You need to leave.”
Scarlet held his gaze a moment longer, before swallowing and pulling back.
She was trapped and there was nothing she could do about it.
“Agh.” She huffed and stormed out of the office.
Even as she walked away, furious and frustrated, there was still a hint of longing in her stomach. Something inside her wanted to run back to Tristan and…hug him.
Or more.
Scarlet shook her head and climbed back up to Gabriel’s room, where she spent the rest of the day flipping through boring books.
And, yes, studying.
52
Tristan woke up in the middle of the night. Hungry.
Which was impossible, since he’d eaten right before he’d gone to bed.
His hunger could only mean one thing: Scarlet was hungry.
He groaned.
His connection to her was getting stronger by the second. And more and more ridiculous. Now he could feel when she was hungry? Ugh.
Tristan stared up at his bedroom ceiling and thought about the girl two floors above him. She was probably still sleeping peacefully, dreaming of Gabriel and rainbows or something.
He closed his eyes in a futile attempt to fall back asleep.
No success.
With a sigh, he got up and trudged upstairs.
He should just stay in bed. He should at least pretend he didn’t feel hungry—he knew he wasn’t.
So, why was he headed into the kitchen to make pancakes?
Because he was weak.
And because Scarlet loved pancakes.
In the kitchen, he quietly got out all the ingredients he needed and tried not to over-think his actions.
Maybe if he hurried and just left a plate of pancakes on the counter, he could go back to bed and pretend he wasn’t a pathetic fool.
He looked at the clock: 1:00 a.m.
That’s what he would do. Make pancakes and flee.
53
Scarlet awoke late in the night to hunger pains.
Amidst all her pouting earlier in the day, she’d failed to eat. And now her stomach was mad at her.
She rolled out of Gabriel’s comfortable bed and rummaged through his backpack, hoping to find a candy bar or banana or something.
Nothing.
She looked back at the warm bed. Did she really want to go downstairs and hunt for food?
Her stomach growled.
Yes. She did.
Scarlet sighed and rubbed her eyes before heading downstairs. She’d find a quick bite to eat and hurry back to Gabriel’s room.
Her heartbeat was loud but her footsteps silent as she stepped onto the main floor and rounded the corner into the kitchen.
She blinked.
There, with his back to her, stood Tristan.
Quietly cooking in the middle of the night.
Scarlet’s first instinct was to run back upstairs and avoid him altogether. She’d find a piece of gum or something to hold her over until morning.
But the smell of pancakes stopped her in her tracks and made her mouth water.
Tristan turned around and, seeing Scarlet at the far end of the kitchen, paused.
Neither of them moved for a moment as they locked gazes.
Scarlet felt something twitch inside her.
Something about the darkness outside, the comfort food inside, and Tristan looking at her like he’d been expecting her, made Scarlet feel….
Loved?
I’m insane. Obviously, my hunger has taken over my body and devoured all my brain cells.
She tucked her lips in and eyed the pancakes Tristan pulled from the pan. “Making a midnight snack?”
She tried to sound light and casual. Normal. Friendly.
Not because Tristan deserved it, but because she wanted pancakes. And Tristan, apparently, was keeper of the pancakes.
He looked away from her. “Something like that.”
He was tense. She could almost…feel it.
Scarlet shifted her weight. “Oh.”
Tristan didn’t look at her. “Are you hungry?” He moved around the stove to a plate piled with pancakes.
“A little,” Scarlet lied. She was starving.
Tristan nodded with his back to her. “Feel free to eat, then.”
Scarlet’s mouth watered even more, excited at the prospect of delving into a buttery pancake mountain.
Not wanting to stand around like a princess waiting to be served, Scarlet walked up behind Tristan to grab a plate off the counter and serve herself.
But when she neared his back he turned around, unaware she’d been so close behind him.
Their chests rubbed together for a split second, and Scarlet’s eyes went blind with a flash of colors.
Click.
A memory grew in her head.
Tristan was dressed in modern clothes and making her pancakes.
It was nighttime, and his hair was longer but his eyes were still a brilliant green. He was smiling as he put a plate of pancakes before her and she was laughing. On top of the pancakes was a smiley face made of fruit….
“Sorry,” Tristan mumbled, moving away from her, and pulling her out of the memory.
As Scarlet’s eyes regained focus, she blinked and looked at Tristan. “I remember you….”
Tristan’s eyes widened.
She cocked her head to the side. “I remember you…making pancakes for me…before.”
Tristan’s chest fell with his slow exhale. “Yes, well,” he looked away from her and brushed his hands against the pants he had on, “I’ve made food for you before.”
Scarlet raised her eyebrows, wondering if maybe Tristan hadn’t always hated her.
Maybe he’d even…liked her…in the past?
In last night’s memory, he’d held her in the forest. In tonight’s memory, he made her food and seemed happy to be with her.
So, what had changed between them?
Tristan rubbed the back of his neck. “Gabriel’s a lousy cook. So, you know. I help him out sometimes.”
Scarlet wrinkled her brow.
Something in his words didn’t ring true.
She nodded and pulled two hot pancakes onto a plate for herself. “Can I ask you something?”
She set the plate down and leaned against the counter, facing Tristan.
He hesitated.
She could tell he wanted to leave, she could feel him debating it inside himself.
Their “connection” had to be both ways—it was the only way to explain how she could feel what he felt.