Page 42 of Magical Midlife Rescue (Leveling Up #11)

TWENTY-FIVE

Nessa

The hotel room was simple, with a king-sized bed, a small desk built into the corner, a few ugly paintings, a couple of uglier lamps, and a hard chair by the wall.

Her bathroom was small, with just a shower, sink, and a couple of drawers.

Her computer sat on the desk with her phone beside it.

It wasn’t much different than the countless other hotels and rentals she’d been staying in, except for one thing.

She braced her hand on the wall.

Ulric and Jasper were sharing the room on the other side.

Jessie, Niamh, Edgar—they all had rooms or suites within this block, merely a saunter away.

They’d welcomed Nessa and Sebastian back in, even after what the mages had done.

After framing them, pushing them into the line of fire, and telling them of Sebastian’s vision.

After telling them, point blank, that Nessa and Sebastian had always planned to betray Jessie and Austin, to their possible demise.

Jessie, the dear heart that she was, hadn’t even blinked.

“At least we have a cheat sheet for getting in front of Momar.” She’d looked at Niamh.

“We need a lot more information before we make that vision a reality. Austin and I will work on the shifters and gargoyles, but you need to get me meetings with mages. Work with Sebastian, Nessa, and Fred to find the right ones, slip into their messages or whatever, and get me an audience. I can’t have that hole in my arsenal, and we have no idea how long it’ll take Momar to make a move against me.

After today, though, we can guarantee he will. ”

Yes, they could. And now, Nessa was part of a team rather than a duo. She was included in a family instead of being in the remnants of one.

She didn’t deserve the second chance, she knew that.

Sebastian thought the same. But neither of them would voice that reality.

Hell, Sebastian hadn’t been able to. He’d finally found the emotion he’d walled up all those years ago.

Jessie walking into that interrogation room had shaken something loose in him, and maybe now he could heal.

Maybe, miracle of miracles, she could too.

A soft knock sounded at the door. She pulled her hand away from the wall and readied herself to put on a smile. “Come in!”

When she saw who it was, she didn’t bother.

She never fooled him with the fake sunshine.

He saw through her pasted-on exterior to the puddle of self-loathing and regret that gurgled beneath.

Before, that annoyed her—scared her, even.

Now, it was a relief. She still felt raw and vulnerable after the meeting with Jessie this morning.

Tristan’s glowing amber gaze held hers for a moment, and then it traced the air between them.

“You can see my energy,” she surmised. She’d remembered him doing that in Kingsley’s territory. It had taken the books, practice, and seeing it herself to connect the dots.

“Yes.”

“Do you have this magic, too? The ability to alter a person’s will?”

He carried in her suitcase, taken from the rental house. They’d had to return and get their stuff, all of it fitting into the back of a rental truck Mr. Tom had procured. It hadn’t taken long to remove everything they’d been carrying around from place to place.

“No. I can see the effects of your magical energy, that’s it.” He set the suitcase down by the bed before going over to the closet. He grabbed the luggage stand and placed the suitcase on top, but he didn’t unzip her bag, preserving her privacy.

She swallowed. “I have a lot to thank you for.”

He closed the closet door before leaning against the corner of the wall, then studied her for a time before saying, “No, you don’t.”

Emotion bubbled up. “You saved my life.”

“That was a pleasure first. A duty second. And an ‘I told you so’ third.” He smirked. “The last negates your need to say thank you.”

She bit her lip as tears came to her eyes. “You and Niamh showed me that I’m not the biggest monster in this outfit. Not by far. I would balk before doing the things you and she did. That Edgar got really into. His… display turned my stomach.”

Tristan grimaced. “Yeah. That vampire.” He released a breath. “Thank God Niamh stopped him before he tried to hollow out the eye sockets and implant the testicles. Like… what ?”

His bewilderment made her smile.

“The things I did were always out of necessity,” she said. “I got good at them because I had to. We had to survive. I never felt like I had a choice.” She crossed her arms over her chest, her emotions so damn raw from this morning’s meeting. She felt so vulnerable. It was hard to button it all up.

“I told you—you don’t need to do stuff like that, not anymore.

I’ll handle it. Niamh will. Edgar would love to.

You can choose the life you want now, Natasha.

You’re in danger, so you have to stick with us, but you don’t have to get your hands dirty.

You don’t have to do the things that you despise yourself for. ”

A tear overflowed and trailed down her cheek.

“I know,” she whispered. “It feels like I’ve been cut loose, but not pushed away.

It’s like…I no longer have chains tying me down.

I no longer have to solely shoulder the burden of Sebastian’s fate.

” Another tear fell. “B-but…” She wiped her cheeks.

“What if I’m given a choice and decide I don’t want the white picket fence?

What if I don’t mind taunting an enemy with a knife to his balls? What sort of person does that make me?”

His grin was wicked. “Magical. As you said, you aren’t the biggest monster on this team.”

She studied him: his loose, easy confidence, his infallible swagger. For once, his eyes didn’t turn guarded. His walls and defenses didn’t come up while she assessed him. It was like he was allowing her to take a good look. Trusting her when usually he didn’t trust anyone.

“I owe you thanks for something else, too.” She licked her lips.

His gaze rooted to her mouth. “I don’t want thanks. I want to make you beg.”

Heat infused her cheeks, her body. She rolled her eyes, hearing the humor in his voice. She didn’t mistake the hunger in his eyes, though. What would it be like to take him up on that? To feel his powerful body pressing her into the mattress?

She cleared her throat. “The energy magic. The books. I’ve been practicing.”

“Good.”

“You directed me toward a magic that could essentially control you.”

“One hopes you’ll eventually be that good, but right now, I think I’m much too hardheaded.”

“But…you know what I mean. You willingly helped me with a magic that could render you vulnerable to me if I so chose.”

It was his turn to study her. “And?”

“And…” She shrugged. “You don’t seem like a guy who allows people to make you feel vulnerable.”

The silence stretched this time as he surveyed her.

“You’ve made me feel vulnerable since the first moment I laid eyes on you.

The effect you have on me is so strong, I thought you were a sprite.

I’m not worried about you trying to control me any more than you’re worried I’ll kill you and turn you inside out.

” His eyes sparkled with humor. “You have a good heart, Natasha. When you love, you love completely. You won’t do me wrong with that magic, just like you wouldn’t do Sebastian wrong.

Or Jessie. If you want to use it to make me fall to my knees and worship between your thighs…

it won’t take much energy. I’ll already do that gladly. ”

He winked and pushed away from the wall. “Get some sleep. It’s been a long night and a longer morning. We’re all tired.”

He turned to go, and she had the sudden desire to pull him back to her.

To paste him to her side as a shield in case nightmares should come.

In case she heard sounds and thought the enemy was closing in on her again.

With that gargoyle-monster standing in the way, nothing would get to her, not even her ghosts.

But she didn’t reach out for him and instead took a deep breath. She was just tired. Raw and tired. She was trying to latch on to him like a security blanket, and she needed to put on her big-girl pants.

He slowed as he neared the door. After he pulled it open, he paused. Instead of continuing through, he closed the door again and turned back, his eyes glowing brightly.

She didn’t speak as he started her way. Butterflies filled her stomach as she watched the smooth grace of the large predator. The battle-hardened monster. Crap, but he was handsome.

He stopped in front of her, incredibly close. His hands came up slowly to brace the sides of her face, and his thumbs moved across the wet tracks on her cheeks.

“How many times do I have to tell you?” he murmured, and then bent. His soft lips touched down on one of the tear tracks, then the other. “If you need something…ask. I can do more than torture people for you.”

His lips grazed across hers, and her eyes fluttered closed. Her core tightened, throbbing. Her heart felt ragged. She didn’t want eroticism—she wanted to be taken care of for once. Protected, especially after nearly succumbing to an extraction.

“I don’t want to?—”

“Shh,” he whispered. The zipper of her hoodie made a whirring noise as he pulled it down, revealing a babydoll T she’d grabbed from the house as they were quickly packing. He hooked his thumbs into the top of her leggings and pushed them down her thighs and to the floor.

Tristan straightened, his gaze tingling against her lips.

His breath fell around her as he undid the buttons on his shirt.

Nessa watched his large, strong hands as they parted the fabric and then worked it off and over his wings.

His delicious, muscular chest was exposed to her, and while she didn’t want anything sexual, she couldn’t help but reach out to slide her palm across his washboard stomach.

He tugged at his jeans, and the material gave way from around the button. The rest followed shortly after, and he bent to push the denim down his muscular thighs. He stepped free of shoes, socks, and pants, and his large bulge strained at his boxer briefs.

“Tristan,” she said with uncertainty, a thrill speeding up her heart. If she’d been in a different mood, she would’ve gotten off on his taking control. Doing what he wanted, her wishes be damned. She hadn’t realized she’d be into that.

She had a feeling, with this monster, that she’d be into a whole lot she didn’t realize. She suspected he’d open up a new world to her, but she worried he’d also open her heart, something she wasn’t ready for yet. Maybe ever.

“Shh,” he said again, his fingers gliding across her cheeks, dry now, and up to her hair. He ran his touch over her to the ponytail holder before tugging it free. Her hair fell down around her face in messy waves.

He bent to her, his lips inches away from hers. His breath smelled like chocolate, and his body surely tasted like sin. She closed her eyes again, waiting for his kiss.

But the air felt disturbed, and she sensed movement. Fabric rustled. His hand touched low on her hip. With a nudge, she stepped to the side, backing up to the bed. She frowned, opening her eyes.

He pulled back the covers before crawling in and pulling her down with him. She complied, conflicted: hot and shivering in anticipation, core begging for him, head not wanting this but liking the treatment all the same.

“Come here,” he commanded, settling her back on the bed. She was helpless to say no.

He turned her away from him, settled his wings, and then curled around her body protectively. One arm pushed under her and wrapped around her torso. With the other, he pulled the covers over them before bending to envelop her. She was wrapped in his big body.

“What…” She sighed in satisfaction within his warmth. “But I thought…”

“I can see your energy, little deathwatch angel. I know what you need. Sleep, now. I’ve got you. I won’t let anything get to you.”

Emotion bubbled over, and she cried within his arms, needing the release. After a moment, as her breathing slowed, she blurted, “But why do you always smell like chocolate?” then laughed through her tears.

“Chocolate is one of my two great weaknesses and greatest pleasures.”

“What’s the other?”

He didn’t respond, and she was too tired to ask again. It took no time at all to fall into a comfortable, deep, dreamless sleep.