Nate’s voice tumbled from the stairs above them. “What’s a gamer gotta do to get some sleep around here?”
Gabriel turned his face to Nate. “Heather lost Scarlet.”
“I did not!” Heather balled her fists at her side.
“What?” Nate’s sleepy eyes rolled. “Ah, man. Did she go after Tristan?”
“Yes.” Heather started babbling a million miles a minute. “She just woke up in pain, and then she started rolling around on the floor and crying. Then she was all like, I have to find Tristan because he’s dying. And I was all, No, let me get Gabriel and then Scarlet started groaning and gasping and I totally panicked and ran upstairs. But it was like waking the dead in Gabriel’s room and I had to actually jump on top of him to rouse him from his beauty rest and then, when we finally made it back downstairs, she was just…” Heather took a shaky breath. “Gone.”
Without warning, Heather broke into tears.
Gabriel blinked as he watched her cry. He looked up at Nate and raised a brow. Nate shrugged.
“Heather?” Gabriel said. “Why are you crying?”
Heather hid her face in her hands. “I don’t want her to die. I didn’t know what to do. It was so scary and she…she looked like she was in so much pain….” Heather sniffed and cried harder. “I don’t want her to die. It’s all my fault.”
Feeling like a complete ass for accusing Heather of not watching over Scarlet, Gabriel gently put a hand on her shoulder. “Hey…I’m sorry.” Gabriel pulled her into an awkward hug. “Hey…hey…it’s okay. It’s not your fault. I just freaked out, that’s all.”
Heather sobbed into the cotton shirt he wore and Gabriel moved her blond curls away from her snotty face. “You didn’t do anything wrong and Scarlet’s going to be fine.”
Maybe.
Gabriel looked at Nate for answers.
Nate nodded. “If Scarlet went after Tristan, then I’m sure she’s already found him.” Nate yawned. “She said Tristan was nearby, so he’s probably yelling at her right now for coming after him. And she’s probably yelling right back. You know how they are.”
Yeah. That sounded about right.
Breathing a silent sigh of relief, Gabriel looked back down at the blond mess against his chest. “See? Tristan’s probably lecturing Scarlet about running away as we speak.” Gabriel tried to smile. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
Heather’s tears started to subside and she sniffed as they pulled away from each other.
“Sorry,” Heather muttered, wiping tears from her eyes. “I just…I just… suck at being the B-F-F of a cursed girl.”
Gabriel gave her a crooked smile. “Well, it’s not like Scarlet is making it easy for you.”
Heather breathed out a laugh. “I know, right?”
Gabriel looked up at Nate. “Should we still go look for Scarlet?”
Nate exhaled. “No. Scarlet seemed to know exactly where Tristan was earlier today. She’ll find him. They’ll fight. He’ll bring her back and we can return to our daily fountain drama.” He smiled. “Business as usual.”
Gabriel bit back a sigh. He hated business as usual.
52
Tristan woke up to the sound of falling rain and distant thunder as his mind replayed the dream he’d had.
A very vivid—very unsolicited—dream about what had happened between him and Scarlet years ago. It had felt so real. Almost like he’d been reliving it.
Which was wonderful.
And terrifying.
He took a deep breath, feeling more alive than he had in years—decades even.
…Centuries?
Tristan opened his eyes to the gray morning light peeking in through the windows of the shack and froze. He was on the floor, beside the smoldering fireplace, wearing only a pair of jeans.
And lying on top of his chest was a beautiful, sleeping Scarlet.
Tucked against his skin like she was an extension of his very heart, Scarlet’s eyes were closed peacefully; her lashes feathered out against her porcelain cheeks.
For a moment, he thought he was still dreaming. But then he blinked and the severity of his situation kicked in.
Scrambling out from underneath her, Tristan laid Scarlet on the rug beside him and moved as far away from her as he could. He searched for her heart.
Don’t be dead. Please, don’t be dead.
When he finally felt Scarlet’s heartbeat in his chest, Tristan sighed in relief. He stared at her for a long time, completely dumbfounded. And angry. And scared.
Scarlet moved a little. Her eyes slowly opened and, upon seeing Tristan, she smiled dreamily. “Good morning.”
He clenched his jaw, loving how her voice poured over him like warm honey and hating that he wanted to hear more of it. He took another step back, now standing in the kitchen of the small house, looking across the room at his visitor.
Reality must have come rushing back to Scarlet because she abruptly sat up, looked around, and went pale. She turned big eyes to him. “Don’t be mad.”
Too late.
Tristan raised his eyebrows. “Don’t be mad? Are you crazy?”
Standing up, Scarlet shook her head. “I wasn’t try—”
“You could have died!”
“I know it seems strange—”
“I’m trying to keep a healthy distance from you,” Tristan pursed his lips, anger filling his veins, “but I can’t do that if you’re lying on top of me!”
Scarlet blushed briefly before taking on a look of stubbornness. “But you were dying, Tristan!”
“No, I wasn’t.”
Yes I was.
Tristan thought back to the night before. He had, indeed, been dying. But how was that possible?
A rumble of thunder sounded against the walls of the shack as the morning light dimmed beneath the thick clouds closing in on the forest around them. The rain picked up.
“Well, it felt like you were dying,” Scarlet repeated. “I woke up in terrible pain and it was like…like I was dying too. So, I had to find you.”
“And climb on top of me?” Tristan didn’t mean to sound like a jackass, but fear was overriding his manners.
Scarlet blushed again. “The pain went away when I touched you.”
Tristan knew all too well how alleviating Scarlet’s touch was for his chronic pain. Which was why he needed her to stay far away from him. “So?” He couldn’t keep the edge out of his voice. “I’m not yours to cure.”
Scarlet’s eyes narrowed and he felt the anger inside her morph into heartbreak. He was a jerk.
He rubbed his jaw. “How long were you touching me?”
Scarlet blinked. “Most of the night.”
He muttered a curse and ran a hand through his hair. He pinched his lips together. “Are you trying to die?”
She raised a brow. “You mean like you were, just a few months ago?”
Tristan stared at her. Touché.
A few tense moments passed.
“How do you feel?” Tristan looked at her carefully.
She nodded. “I feel healthy.”