Her eyes weren’t flashing.
Her nose wasn’t bleeding.
Tristan crossed his arms. “Well, you’re lucky to be alive.”
“So are you.” She crossed her arms as well.
Ah, there was the Scarlet he’d known for centuries. Sassy. Stubborn. Righteous.
The rain grew heavier and the clouds darkened.
Tristan’s eyes traveled around the room, looking at everything except for the girl by the fireplace. He bit back a sigh. What was he going to do with her?
“You can’t stay here,” he said with a bland tone. “It’s not safe.”
Scarlet scanned his face. “But…I feel safe here.” She looked at his jaw, then his throat, then his mouth….
There was a kitchen counter, a couch, and twenty feet of space in between them. But Scarlet was practically inside his skin.
Safe was the last thing she was.
“Well, I feel dangerous.” Tristan tried to keep his eyes from wandering to any places aside from her face. “So, you need to go.”
A loud crack of thunder shook the windows and they both turned their attention to the storm outside. Trees moved against the wind and rain, and the forest floor was dark with water.
“After the storm.” Tristan shifted his weight and moved farther into the kitchen. “You’ll leave after the storm.”
Although it was still morning, the sky was dark and low, and the shack was filled with shadows and a cold chill. Tristan flicked on a nearby light switch.
“Whatever.” Scarlet climbed onto the couch with her knees tucked beneath her and watched Tristan as he moved about the kitchen.
He tried to busy himself with something—anything—that would keep him from looking at her.
He started opening cabinets arbitrarily. “Are you hungry?”
Food. Food was a good distraction.
“No,” Scarlet said.
Tristan nodded, but kept his eyes on the contents of the cabinet before him. He wasn’t hungry either. He closed the cabinet and started fiddling with random objects in the kitchen.
A towel…the soap bottle…a fork on the kitchen counter.
“So….” Scarlet twitched her lips.
He turned the sink on and began washing the fork. It wasn’t dirty, but he washed it anyway. “So…” he repeated.
He didn’t feel like small talk. Or big talk.
He scrubbed the fork with a soapy sponge.
Scarlet cleared her throat. “You know the tree picture I found?”
He rinsed suds off the fork and nodded.
“It’s actually a map to the fountain of youth.” She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the backrest of the couch.
Tristan looked up at her with a quirked brow. “Really?” Sink water emptied into the drain as Tristan stared at her.
Scarlet nodded. “But we haven’t figured out how to read it yet. Nate’s still working on that.”
His adrenaline began to race. With a map, they could break the curse. They could all be free.
“If you can’t read it, then how do you know it’s a map?” Tristan turned the water off and started drying the fork.
Scarlet shifted on the couch, her dark hair sliding over her shoulder. “We went through some Avalon records and I found a journal that belonged to my father.”
“You did?” Tristan asked skeptically.
“Yeah.” She nodded. “Crazy, right?”
Tristan nodded.
Crazy and convenient.
“Anyway,” Scarlet continued. “My dad’s journal had a similar drawing, claiming it was a map. He was trying to find the fountain, too.”
“Why?”
“Because he was addicted to fountain water.”
Tristan blinked. Apparently, he’d missed quite a bit during his isolation. “Any other breaking news I should know about?” He finished polishing the fork in his hand and put it away.
A shudder of apprehension crawled through Scarlet and crept into Tristan.
“What?” He closed the drawer he’d placed the fork in and looked up with curious eyes.
Scarlet cocked her head to the side and paused. “Is it weird?”
“Is what weird?”
She bit her lip. “Feeling everything I feel?”
Only when you’re making out with my brother.
Tristan shifted his weight. “Is it weird for you to feel everything I feel?”
She thought for a moment. “A little.” Her eyes skirted the floor. “It feels…intimate.”
He nodded slowly. “It is intimate.”
Raw. Honest. Intimate.
Deadly.
A wave of desire rolled across the floor, curling around Tristan with heat. He couldn’t tell if the emotion came from him or Scarlet. But neither one of them tried to push it away, which turned him on.
And scared the hell out of him.
He cleared his throat. “So, what were you going to say? When you felt nervous a second ago?” He looked around for another dish to clean, but the kitchen was spotless. He didn’t know what to do with his hands.
“Oh.” Scarlet blinked. “I was going to tell you that Laura might have something to do with the Head Ghosts, which means she might know about me and the fountain.”
Fear prickled the back of Tristan’s neck. “What makes you think that?”
Scarlet exhaled. “She knew your name without me telling her. She has this secret flower hidden in her closet. She bought a ton of special blue weapons from the same guy who had my father’s journal. But mostly, Heather had a memory lapse after she went to my house yesterday. And Laura was at my house.” Scarlet shook her head. “It could all just be a coincidence and I might be crazy, but—”
“You’re not crazy.” Tristan crossed his arms. There. That was something he could do with his hands. “I never trusted Laura.”
Tristan tensed up. If Laura was responsible for sending the psycho Ash guy after Scarlet, Laura would die.
Scarlet’s eyes grew large. “You didn’t?”
He shook his head. “I don’t trust anybody.”
Except Gabriel.
And you.
He needed to stop talking.
“Right.” Scarlet nodded.
A sharp howl of wind slapped rain against the side windows and Tristan watched a shiver tumble through Scarlet. For the first time since waking up, he took note of what she was wearing.
Which wasn’t much.
A tiny, satin top hugged her chest and a pair of very short shorts hung from her waist. She was probably freezing.
He walked over to the fireplace beside the couch and started putting more wood into the hearth from a pile against the wall. “Sorry it’s cold in here. I wasn’t exactly expecting company.” He cleared his throat and kept his eyes on the fireplace as he struck a match from the mantel and coaxed flames from the timber within. “Do you need other clothes?”
Like maybe a tunic? Or some coveralls?
Please say yes.
“No,” Scarlet said. “I’m fine.”
Tristan bit back a groan. He was trapped in a cold cabin with the only girl on earth he wasn’t allowed to touch.
And she was curled up on his couch with more skin exposed than not.
Once the flames came to life, Tristan stood up and turned around, looking down at Scarlet.