Refuge(101)
Tristan stood and waved at the guest room. “You’ve had a lot to deal with tonight. Why don’t you try to get some sleep and we’ll talk again tomorrow?”
“Okay.” I really wanted to crawl into my own bed, but the possibility of running into anyone – especially Nikolas – on the way to my room made me accept Tristan’s invitation. I said good night to him and burrowed beneath the covers in the guest bed, waiting for exhaustion to overtake me. But as tired as my body was, my mind refused to shut down. It kept running through my conversation with Tristan and reliving every moment I’d ever spent with Nikolas, looking for evidence of the things Tristan had told me. Since I’d met Nikolas, his overprotective, overbearing ways had chafed me and led to most of the arguments between us. But there was no denying that I had always felt safe with him and I’d trusted him with my life from the beginning. Why would I place such faith in a total stranger? I delved deeper and remembered the flash of recognition I’d felt the first moment I saw him. Had that been my imagination or my Mori recognizing its mate?
Groaning, I rolled over and punched my pillow. Tristan was right. It was no use trying to deny there was some kind of connection between me and Nikolas, and it had been there since the first moment we met. I wasn’t romantic enough to call it love at first sight because I didn’t believe that existed no matter what people said. But there was something between us nonetheless, and I had to decide what I was going to do about it.
Me and Nikolas? Nikolas! How was I going to talk to him, knowing what I did? It wasn’t that I blamed him or anything; he’d been caught up in this, too. I thought about seeing him at the barn, the way his eyes had never left me and how he’d trembled as he held me tight against him. It was the first time I’d ever seen him not in control, and it had scared me.
The last thing I wanted to do was hurt him, but I’d never dealt with anything remotely like this. Part of me was scared to death, while another part of me wanted to go to him and . . . do what? Tell him it would be okay? Tell him I cared about him, too?
I curled up miserably under the covers and prayed for sleep. Pink streaks appeared in the sky outside my window before my body finally succumbed and let me slip into a temporary oblivion.
Chapter 16
THE SUN WAS high in the sky when I opened my eyes, letting me know I had slept straight through the morning. But it wasn’t the bright sunlight spilling into the room that woke me; it was the soft touch of butterfly wings against my mind followed by the sound of men’s voices in the other room.
“She is not ready to see you,” Tristan said in a firm voice. “Last night was a shock to her, and she needs some time to process it.”
“I frightened her. I need to talk to her, to explain.” Nikolas’s gruff voice made my stomach do a little flip, and I couldn’t tell if it was from nervousness or excitement.
Tristan’s tone turned conciliatory. “Sara knows you would never harm her, and she’s the only one who wasn’t afraid of you last night. You and I both knew she would be upset when she learned about the bond, which is why we agreed to wait to tell her.”
“I did wait,” Nikolas replied, a note of impatience slipping into his voice. “I left for almost three weeks.”
“When you returned and asked to train her, you said you could keep your distance. Kissing her is not what I’d call keeping your distance.”
Oh God! My face burned, and I pulled a pillow over my head to block out the rest of their conversation. As curious as I was to hear what Nikolas had to say about the kiss, I did not want to hear him talking to my grandfather about it. Did these people have no concept of boundaries?
I waited a good five minutes before I lifted the pillow to hear silence in the other room. I waited another ten minutes before I dressed in the same clothes I’d worn after my shower last night. I cracked the door open to make sure Tristan was alone before I left the bedroom.
He looked up from some papers he was going over at the table, and I realized he had stayed here with me instead of going to his office today. “Good morning.”
“Morning,” I replied weakly, remembering what I’d heard of his conversation with Nikolas. “You didn’t have to stay with me.”
“I wanted to be here when you woke up. Are you hungry?”
My stomach growled in response, and we both laughed.
He got up and took a carton of eggs from the refrigerator. I tried to argue that I could feed myself, but he ignored my protest and ordered me to sit. “I like cooking for someone again, and I’m going to make you the best omelet you’ve ever had.”