knowledge of what he was or the possibly of what he could be if bitten, nothing has changed. Well, except for the fact that he’s added one more thing to the list of deplorable acts he’s committed since his parents died—he hunted and killed a man. Just because the asshole had been dead for nearly six-hundred years didn’t mean Tristan still didn’t take his life. And yet, in the end, he felt no regret in killing Malik. Was all of this his slow transformation into becoming a monster? Or did that princess actually have the gall do something to him while he was sleeping? Shit, who was he kidding, she didn’t know how to not poke at things. Dammit all, he was actually going to have to talk to her again.
First things, first—deal with current events. This time though, it was his turn to apologize. He sighed heavily, thinking of what he was going to say as he finished his shower. He dressed quickly, barely drying off, and went out to the main room. “Hey Ash, I’m—” He stopped and looked around. The apartment was empty.
“Shit,” he sighed and went to the kitchen. There he found a note from Ash. It said simply, “Good night” and nothing more. Angry with himself for attacking her like that, he tossed the note away and slammed a hand down on the countertop. This was the first time she’d gone out without him since moving in. Maybe, for once, she was going to fill her craving for blood by feeding from a real live person instead of those mixed drinks she got from her pythia contact. He drove her to this, he chased her away.
He stretched out across the counter, face pressed to the cold laminate. He supposed it was better this way, they didn’t need to be around each other , in that moment or ever again. They were both just bombs waiting to go off. What was he thinking, hoping to have anything more with a vampire than the need to kill it? They may not have been meant to be together, but he didn’t want to kill Ash. Now was as good a time as any to get out. It was time they went their separate ways. He knew this, but could he really do it?
4: H ands A round M y T hroat
TRISTAN’S special friend visiting tonight was someone he quite possibly hated even more than Lucien—and he was going to kill Lucien. So as he stared at the bulky Scotsman, looking smug as ever standing in his foyer, he wondered why he didn’t just say fuck them all and go off to France on his own. Or better yet, back home to the States. Why was Lucien really his problem? Yuki was probably lying about the whole thing just to satisfy her stupid pride.
The first time Tristan met Desmond was at Yuki’s home the night Ash took him to see Princess Crazy herself. Desmond was rude, arrogant and had his hands all over Ash. It was pretty fucking clear what sort of relationship they had. Ash confirmed it rather bluntly later, to his surprise. Tristan had to wonder if he just had to assume that Ash had slept with every vampire he’d met. Guess it didn’t matter anymore, she never came back last night after running away from Tristan and his super Uruwashi creepiness. He didn’t blame her one bit. He was a total asshole. Still, he’d hoped to be able to say good bye properly, make peace.
Tristan listened, impatiently, while Desmond explained how Yuki, being the princess that she was, owned the private plane that would take him to Paris. Yuki had also gone as far as packing a trunk full of weapons, ordering a car for travel between the airport and hotel and renting a large private suite in an upscale hotel. She covered everything. All he had to do grab his bag and go. Now.
“Everythin g es ready fur yew and Asta,” Desmond said in his thick accent. He was so damn hard to comprehend sometimes. Did he think anyone could actually understand him? It was like he had goldfish in there, fighting each other to the death and his tongue was their arena. Thankfully, he was done and now he could leave.
“Yeah, it’s just me, mate ,” Tristan said
First things, first—deal with current events. This time though, it was his turn to apologize. He sighed heavily, thinking of what he was going to say as he finished his shower. He dressed quickly, barely drying off, and went out to the main room. “Hey Ash, I’m—” He stopped and looked around. The apartment was empty.
“Shit,” he sighed and went to the kitchen. There he found a note from Ash. It said simply, “Good night” and nothing more. Angry with himself for attacking her like that, he tossed the note away and slammed a hand down on the countertop. This was the first time she’d gone out without him since moving in. Maybe, for once, she was going to fill her craving for blood by feeding from a real live person instead of those mixed drinks she got from her pythia contact. He drove her to this, he chased her away.
He stretched out across the counter, face pressed to the cold laminate. He supposed it was better this way, they didn’t need to be around each other , in that moment or ever again. They were both just bombs waiting to go off. What was he thinking, hoping to have anything more with a vampire than the need to kill it? They may not have been meant to be together, but he didn’t want to kill Ash. Now was as good a time as any to get out. It was time they went their separate ways. He knew this, but could he really do it?
4: H ands A round M y T hroat
TRISTAN’S special friend visiting tonight was someone he quite possibly hated even more than Lucien—and he was going to kill Lucien. So as he stared at the bulky Scotsman, looking smug as ever standing in his foyer, he wondered why he didn’t just say fuck them all and go off to France on his own. Or better yet, back home to the States. Why was Lucien really his problem? Yuki was probably lying about the whole thing just to satisfy her stupid pride.
The first time Tristan met Desmond was at Yuki’s home the night Ash took him to see Princess Crazy herself. Desmond was rude, arrogant and had his hands all over Ash. It was pretty fucking clear what sort of relationship they had. Ash confirmed it rather bluntly later, to his surprise. Tristan had to wonder if he just had to assume that Ash had slept with every vampire he’d met. Guess it didn’t matter anymore, she never came back last night after running away from Tristan and his super Uruwashi creepiness. He didn’t blame her one bit. He was a total asshole. Still, he’d hoped to be able to say good bye properly, make peace.
Tristan listened, impatiently, while Desmond explained how Yuki, being the princess that she was, owned the private plane that would take him to Paris. Yuki had also gone as far as packing a trunk full of weapons, ordering a car for travel between the airport and hotel and renting a large private suite in an upscale hotel. She covered everything. All he had to do grab his bag and go. Now.
“Everythin g es ready fur yew and Asta,” Desmond said in his thick accent. He was so damn hard to comprehend sometimes. Did he think anyone could actually understand him? It was like he had goldfish in there, fighting each other to the death and his tongue was their arena. Thankfully, he was done and now he could leave.
“Yeah, it’s just me, mate ,” Tristan said
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