Page 17

Sixteen

Running Back

T ristan knew her. He was certain he did.

Even if his brain disagreed with him, his heart and soul agreed. So did his body.

He couldn’t count the times he had to remind himself to keep his hands to himself—instead of giving in to the strange urge that screamed at him to draw her into his arms, run his fingers through her hair, and kiss her.

Eventually, he had nearly lost it and kissed her hand.

Since when had he been so bold around a girl? Not that Tristan knew any girls other than his cousins—and his ex-girlfriend whose name was also Alexa—but Alexa Ford made interacting with her as normal as breathing.

Getting his heart tangled with another girl wasn’t part of Tristan’s plans. If he stayed single, the better for him. But this girl, she was something else entirely. Like a mystery that begged to be solved.

And Tristan liked a good mystery. The last time something had intrigued him, he had followed it until he uncovered its secrets. Even though he didn’t remember what it was now.

Tristan went straight to his art studio after parking his car back in the garage. He waved goodbye to Valero, who was on his way to leave. He needed to paint, and it couldn’t wait.

That intoxicating laugh of hers. If he couldn’t record it, he would paint it. The fact that he’d been the one to elicit it from her made him feel like the richest man in the world.

Tristan smiled and shook his head to himself. Crazy. He was crazy.

He pushed open the door to his studio and turned on the lights. And froze.

The faces in the paintings around the walls had changed. They weren’t the same as the last time he had been in here. They all featured the same girl, but her face was way different today.

Way familiar and beautiful.

Alexa Ford.

What the—

Before he could finish that thought, something shifted in his mind. A thought—no, a memory—slithered in.

Tristan staggered back in shock and gripped the door for support.

His ex-girlfriend and Alexa Ford weren’t two people. They were one.

How?

It took him a moment to gather himself. Then he turned and hurried out of the studio, slamming the door behind him. He entered his room, walked over to his dresser, and pulled open one of the drawers to its full length.

There sat a small rectangular box at the very end. Tristan stared at it before slowly reaching for it, pushing the drawer back halfway. His hands cradled the box. It held something significant to him. He couldn’t remember what it was or how he knew it was there; he just… did .

He opened the box. At the sight of the red ribbon with feather earrings hitched on either end, he remembered.

His Alexa.

His only love.

The girl he was willing to do anything to protect—even by risking his secret.

Tristan shut the box, shoved it back inside the drawer, and, without a second thought, teleported to the balcony of her house. The doors were closed, but the sign dangling from the handle evoked another unclear memory in his mind.

“You’re here,” she whispered, snuggling into him.

“Of course, I’m here. You have a welcome sign in your balcony for a certain supernatural human with teleportation ability,” he said sarcastically.

“I’m beginning to think of hanging an actual welcome sign on my balcony door, in case I have to keep it closed for any reason in the future.” She rested her chin on his chest and tipped her head back to look at him. “With something written on it like, ‘the door is locked, but do come in, oh posh gentleman.’”

Tristan threw his head back and laughed. “And do you need an artist to make this signboard for you?”

“I’d heartily appreciate his service.”

“Of course, you would.”

Tristan inhaled sharply. No wonder he knew the exact place to teleport to. If he thought hard, he might even be able to revel in the feel of her in his arms.

A commotion from the other side of the door snapped his focus. Tristan realized, with utter horror, that he wasn’t invisible. He cast a sharp glance around him, searched every nook and cranny for prying eyes before he turned on his invisibility.

He knew that Alexa knew his supernaturalism, but what if she didn’t remember, just like he had a moment ago, and seeing him would frighten her?

He peered into the room through the glassed balcony doors. Alexa had barged inside and moved into a corner where he couldn’t see her. He heard noises; it almost sounded like she was tearing the room apart.

One look at the signboard, permission granted, he teleported into her room.

He waited for the guilt of invading her privacy to hit him. But nothing came. This only felt familiar, normal even, and strangely homely.

Alexa was going through her closet. Clothes piled around her in no time, but she had no care in the world. From the determined set of her jaw, he realized she was looking for something.

At last, she found it. A black bundle.

Alexa carefully unfolded it, and to Tristan’s surprise, a journal fell out of it to her lap. Instead of picking it up, though, Alexa shook out the black cloth and held it up in front of her.

It was a hoodie. And she was staring at it with a wild look in her eyes.

Tristan’s eyes bounced from her to the hoodie, his heart racing faster. Was it what he thought it was?

Alexa slowly brought the hoodie to her face, sniffed it, and then buried her face in it. She was shaking from head to toe as she rose to her feet, her other hand grabbing the journal from her lap before it fell off.

She moved toward her bed, sat down, and opened the journal against it, clutching the hoodie to her chest with her free hand. Her eyes ran over the page hungrily, widening the further she read. Her breathing and the beating of her heart grew so fast that Tristan’s ears couldn’t miss the sound, even though he wasn’t trying to listen.

Just like how it had been when they were in Tristan’s car.

A journal could contain a lot of answers he was seeking, but Tristan held himself back from intruding on her privacy any more than he was. But when Alexa turned over a page, took a sharp intake of breath, and a near-sob choked out of her lips, Tristan stalked forward and looked over her shoulder.

He, too, lost his breath.

All that time, it had been him. I thought I should’ve known, but there’s no way I would have until he revealed himself that fateful evening at the bridge and the following night at my house.

My silent protector, my invisible guardian, my Lightning Knight…

Yes, it had been Tristan Knight all along.

And you may have guessed it by now, that despite all my efforts of trying not to, I’m falling in love with him.

Tristan tore his eyes from the entry to Alexa’s face. Tears were running down her cheeks and she wasn’t trying to stop them. He watched her as she read the rest of the entry.

When she turned onto the next page, clasped a hand over her mouth and choked out, “Oh, Tristan…” Tristan’s resolve broke. His gaze snapped back to the journal.

Dear Diary,

I love him. I love Tristan Knight. I love him so madly and irrevocably I couldn’t live without him anymore. How did I live all these years without him? I can’t believe it!

Tristan took an unsteady step back from her. His vision began to blur together.

What had happened to them? Why did they not remember each other until now? Until she had shown up at his doorstep?

Tristan wanted answers. But more importantly, he wanted to let her know of his presence.

Suddenly, in his peripheral view, he saw someone appear at Alexa’s doorway. He turned, his eyes narrowing at the tall, dark-skinned boy with white-blond hair.

Was he a cousin of hers? Tristan remembered she only had an older sister.

“Alexa,” the boy called softly, bracing his hands on either side of her doorframe and glancing at her through Tristan.

Alexa bolted upright. Her eyes snapped to the boy and they widened. Fear flashed in her eyes, but it was gone in an instant, replaced by a blazing look.

“You!” She shook an accusing finger at him. “ You took away my memories of Tristan!”

Tristan blanched, looking from her to the boy. What?

The boy’s facial expression turned stony and he straightened. “I did.”

His admission seemed to fuel her rage. “And you erased my mother’s memories when she tried to make me remember him!”

“Yes.” Then he added, “Because she wasn’t supposed to. If I had known you two had gotten back in touch, and that dear, precious Tristan was the reason for your reunion, I would’ve taken care of that matter a month ago, and we wouldn’t have had this mess now.”

Alexa shook her head, a look of disbelief mingled with disgust crossing her face. “What are you playing with, Jude? I saw what you did to my mother. Was that witchcraft or something?”

Warning bells went off in Tristan’s mind. He remembered something. He knew this boy…

The corner of the boy’s lips twitched. “Did I forget to mention? My birth mother is a witch.”

You’ve got to be kidding me, Tristan thought.

The boy, Jude, slipped his hand into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a small, transparent pouch with something that looked like gray powder inside. “These ashes have been spelled with Tristan’s blood to have the desired effect on anyone who knew the two of you were together.”

Another piece clicked into his mind. Merissa. The shield bracelet. South Africa.

Alexa glared daggers at him. “I won’t let you take my memories again.”

“The thing is, Alexa, you can’t stop me.” Jude stepped into the room. His steps were slow like a panther’s, and he eyed Alexa like she was his prey. “You are going to forget him—again.”

The ritual. The betrayal.

Tristan remembered it all, and the rage that overtook him was like a tsunami wave. He dropped his invisibility. All he saw was red.

“Over my dead body,” he growled and lunged at Jude.

Alexa gasped aloud, and he heard her scatter backward. He grabbed Jude by the shirt and threw a punch to his surprised face that seemed to be only recovering from a former hit.

“If you come near her again, I will—”

Jude tried to punch him back, but Tristan knocked him to the ground and pinned him down before throwing punch after punch to his face.

“Tristan!” Alexa shouted from behind, her voice frantic. “Tristan, no!”

But he continued to hit his cousin.

Gentle hands grabbed his biceps and tried to pull him away with surprising force. “Tristan, stop!”

Tristan stopped at once. Heaving deeply, he turned from his unconscious cousin to Alexa. Her hands fell from him, and he rose to his feet.

“Are you alright, angel?” He instantly regretted the question, seeing her shaking from head to toe. He took a step toward her, opening his arms. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

Alexa inhaled sharply and took a tentative step toward him. That was all the permission he needed. Tristan closed the distance between them in one long stride and crushed her to his embrace. Her arms wrapped around his ribs in a vice-like grip, nearly choking the breath out of him, but Tristan couldn’t care less.

He was home.

“You’re safe, love. I’ve got you,” he repeated, murmuring into her hair and running his un-bloodied fingers through it. “I’ve got you, angel.”

“You’re here,” she choked out. “I can’t believe it.”

“Yes, I’m here,” he whispered. He couldn’t believe it himself, of what had happened. “I promised I’d run to you. I will always run to you.”

“Oh, Tristan…” Alexa pulled back to look at him. Tears welled up in her eyes. “You remember?”

“Most of it.” His eyes roamed all over her face before locking back to her eyes. “I know you are the girl my heart is beating for and that I am all yours.”

“I remember most of it, too.” Alexa’s hands cupped his face, her eyes raking over his face hungrily. “I know you’re the boy who got my dead heart beating again and that I’m all yours—too.”

“Oh, Lexa…” Tristan sighed, a sound of torment, and pressed his forehead to hers. “You’re my angel.”

“And you’re my knight,” she said, her voice reverent. “My Lightning Knight. My prince in disguise as a knight.”

Tristan’s lips twitched helplessly. “Precisely.”

Her thumbs ran back and forth over his cheekbones, an adorable crease forming between her eyebrows. “What exactly happened to us?”

“It’s a long story.” He met her eyes seriously. “And I’ll tell you everything, but first, we need to get Jude out of here—and bring him to the police if possible.”

“The police?” Her eyes widened. “But what will we tell them?”

“Well, no one’s going to believe us if—if— Lexa ?”

Alexa’s eyelids drooped, and she slumped against him. “Tristan—my head—”

“Lexa!” Tristan tried to hold her up, but his own head began to spin. He tried to fight it and focus on her, but the spinning was becoming unbearable by the second.

This was frighteningly familiar…

He closed his eyes as a sharp pain shot through his temples. Unable to stand any longer, he sank to the ground with her. He tightened his arms around her and drew her closer to him.

White specks flew around his mind. Alexa’s face was in every one of them. Tristan finally realized what was happening.

But he had knocked Jude unconscious, hadn’t he?

He forced his eyes open. The room spun around him, and he closed them immediately, but not before recognizing his cousin’s form next to them on the floor, one arm propped up with the ashes in his palm.

Terror seized him.

“Tristan!” Alexa’s face nuzzled into the crook of his neck. “ No, no, no ! I don’t want to forget you again!”

But there was nothing either of them could do but hold each other one more time. His anger blazed tenfold. This wouldn’t be the last time he was holding her. He wouldn’t let Merissa win.

But what was there he could do to stop that wretched woman?

Instead of reaching into a memory like he had the last time, to escape the spinning and the pain, Tristan held onto the reality of holding the love of his life one last time before he forgot her again.

Angry tears leaked through his eyelashes. “I will run to you, Lexa. I promise. I will keep running back to you.”

Alexa’s sobs wracked her body as she clung to him. “I don’t wanna say goodbye.”

“Just tell me you love me.”

She took a shuddering breath. “I—”

But Tristan never got to hear it. Darkness erupted into his mind. And like that, Alexa Ford was stolen from his memories once again.