The Reinvention of the Rose - Christina C. Jones Page 0,50

everything so close to the vest.”

I let out a sigh. “I actually kinda do,” I said.

“Because of your past life… whatever it is you’re rebuilding from.”

“Pretty much.”

“So… Kiara was right then?” he asked, in a teasing tone. “You really are an assassin… the girl they send for the princess’ throat, huh? Or will you have to kill me if you tell me?”

I sniffed, shaking my head again. “No, I wouldn’t have to kill you. I just… I don’t want to be defined by what I’ve left behind. Even though it’s… a pretty defining thing.”

“I get that,” he nodded. “You’re not the sum of the things you’ve done, and all that.”

“Exactly. And I mean… I understand if that’s a dealbreaker for you – if it’s important to you to know everything about me – about my past. I can’t give you that. I can’t,” I repeated, trying my best to not give into a fresh wave of tears. “And if we’re going to do this – be together - I need to know that… it doesn’t really matter. This chapter of my life isn’t – can’t be - about what I used to do, who I used to be. The real story is who I am now. Who I’m going to become.”

“And that is completely fine with me,” Tristan assured, bringing his lips to mine in a soft press that made everything feel wondrously right with the world.

Obviously I knew it took more than a kiss, more than a conversation, more than this moment, but… for now, at least… I’d happily take it.

And I’d take all the other kisses he offered – I’d take them greedily, needing something else to focus on. I’d take off the towel wrapped around Tristan’s waist, making him laugh.

But then he pushed me down on the bed, and there was nothing funny anymore.

He stripped me out of my clothes and dropped his head between my legs, propping my thighs over his shoulders. I didn’t need to watch – I let my head fall back, letting my tired eyes rest as Tristan demanded the last of whatever energy my tired body had left, forcing it to expend itself in pursuit of sweet bliss.

I bucked against his mouth, my hips jerking, back arching away from the bed as he devoured me. My fingers dug into the soft fabric of his comforter, my only hold on anything that wasn’t pure pleasure as he kept on, and on, until I couldn’t help screaming his name, hoarse and all.

And then he was on top of me.

Then inside me.

Filling me up, and making me forget everything except how good this felt, growling in my ear about how good it was for him, too.

I’d missed him.

Missed this.

Which probably should’ve scared me more than it did, considering how quickly things had changed between us after the first time we were intimate.

I wasn’t afraid.

This – Tristan inside me – felt righter than many things over the time since the disbanding of the Garden.

Once we were done, I did end up in the shower with Tristan – apparently he’d heard me crying, and had cut his earlier one short. Afterwards, he insisted I join him for a quick bite, and then we went to bed.

He fell asleep fast, with an arm draped around me.

As for me… I had a little more to think about.

I wasn’t going to run from… whatever this was.

Not Tristan, not the shop, not any of things that might come along with this new life I was making for myself.

I didn’t know yet who had violated the safety of the shop, but not even that was going to scare me off.

At least… not without a fight.

And I wasn’t particularly known for losing those.

Something was wrong.

It woke me from my sleep, again, only this time, I had Tristan in bed beside me.

And he was the “something wrong”.

Instead of his typical, peaceful state, his shoulders were tense. He was facing away from me, but I didn’t have to see his lips – I could hear his pained, unintelligible murmurs, knew his face was likely pulled into a frown, eyes still closed.

I said nothing, but put a hand against his bare shoulder, gently running my fingers over the Heights tattoo there. City buildings forming a circle, with The Heights scripted in the middle. He wasn’t the only one who had it, but he’d designed it – one of several designs the shop offered free to anyone who wanted it. Anyone who lived in the neighborhood, that