Moonlight Kin 4: Tristan (6 page)

“Dead or alive, I can smell my own kind,”
Tristan said. “Now where did you get it, Everly Watts?”

Everly crossed her arms and sat back. “I
didn’t kill him if that’s what you’re asking.”

Tristan scooted forward. He had wondered if
she had, but wasn’t surprised that she hadn’t. Female hunters
weren’t common, but they did exist. The east coast Alpha, Damon
Laroche, had mated with one such woman.

“Then who did?” he asked. Tristan would hunt
them down once he eliminated the Darkling threat.

Everly scoffed. “I’m not about to tell you
that. You’d kill them,” she said.

“Yes, I would.” Tristan smiled, showing more
teeth than necessary. That was his job, and he was very good at
it.

Isabel stared at Everly. “You knew the skull
came from one of them, and you kept it anyway? Are you nuts?”

“Not crazy,” Tristan said, answering for her.
“But not particularly bright, since my kind can smell their
own.”

Everly stiffened and glared at him. This time
she didn’t look away until Isabel shook her. “You might’ve
mentioned his resemblance to one of the Avengers.”

“It wasn’t Loki, so I didn’t think it was
important,” Izzy said.

Everly laughed. “I see why you like him.”

Isabel’s mouth dropped open. A plethora of
emotions rushed across her face. “I don’t like him. Why would you
say that? He’s a monster.”

Tristan tensed. Humans had called him many
things over the years. Nothing really fazed him anymore—or so he
thought.
She’s human.
She means nothing to me
, he
reminded himself.

Her cheeks reddened. “No offense,” Isabel
added hastily.

“None taken,” Tristan said nonchalantly,
ignoring the churning in his gut. “Your friend was about to tell me
where she got the skull.”

“No, she wasn’t,” Everly said. “So drop
it.”

He surged forward. “If there is someone out
there hunting Moonlight Kin, then I need to know about it.”

“Hunting what?” Isabel asked.

“That’s what they call themselves,” Everly
said. “I thought you knew.”

“Of course.” It was obvious she hadn’t.

Tristan was within striking distance. He
didn’t make a habit of attacking women. In fact, he avoided it
whenever possible. But his loyalty was to his people, not to
humans. This woman needed to be reminded of the fact.

“I’m only going to ask nicely one last time,”
Tristan said. “Where did you get the skull?”

Everly glowered. “It was a gift.”

“For what purpose?” he asked. Getting her to
respond was like pulling teeth from a mule.

She thought about the question for a moment.
No doubt trying to decide whether to lie. It would do her no good.
He’d scent a lie immediately.

Everly sighed. “I use it to detect your
presence,” she said.

Tristan’s nostrils flared. That was not what
he’d expected her to say. Such a thing shouldn’t be possible, but
the ramifications of the admission were not lost on him. This woman
was more dangerous than he first thought.

Somehow she’d turned a Moonlight Kin skull
into a tracking device. If the Hunters learned about it, about her,
they’d go to great lengths to get their hands on her. What if she’d
already shared the knowledge? He needed to find out.

“How have you used this knowledge?” If she
said that she gave the information to the Hunters, then Tristan was
going to have to kill her or have the local Alpha take care of the
job.

He glanced at Isabel. She would never forgive
him if he murdered her friend, but what choice did he have?

“The skull is for
personal
use,”
Everly said. “I do not share what I know. It helps me avoid your
kind.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about this?” Isabel
asked, sounding hurt. “I could’ve used one of those myself.”

“And exactly how did you plan to get one?”
Tristan asked. Had he completely misjudged her? Was she talking
about killing, too?

Isabel rolled her eyes. “I’ll start by
melting ice.”

Tristan gave her a droll look and shook his
head. He should’ve known.

Everly touched her arm. “You need to go with
him,” she said.

“Okay, now I know there’s something wrong
with you,” Izzy said. “Because the friend I know would never
suggest anything so insane, especially knowing full well what he
is.”

Everly’s dark eyes filled with compassion.
“I’ve seen the future,” she said.

“I know,” Izzy said. “We heard. Though a lot
of it didn’t make sense, and you don’t seem to be in a hurry to
elaborate.”

Tristan rested his elbows on his knees. “What
exactly did you see?”

Everly’s dark gaze landed on him. “I don’t
think you’re ready to hear what I saw. I don’t think either of you
are, but it doesn’t matter.” She pushed her hair away from her
face. “I’ve seen what’s going to happen...to us all. You can’t
outrun fate. None of us can.”

A shiver tracked down Tristan’s spine.

* * * * *

Izzy hugged Everly goodbye then stepped into
the hall.

“You will see her again,” Tristan said.

She hoped he was right, but thus far Izzy
hadn’t had any visions of the future. Did that mean she didn’t have
a future to see?

Izzy frowned.

“Come,” Tristan said, but didn’t reach for
her.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

His guarded expression made her think he
wouldn’t answer, but then Tristan surprised her. “I must present
myself to the Alpha of this area. He can aid us in finding
shelter.”

“Why do I have to go with you?” Izzy
asked.

“Because you have shown that you cannot be
trusted out of my sight.” He smirked.

Once again Izzy had the overwhelming urge to
slap the smartass expression right off his face. She’d try it if he
weren’t so tall.

Tristan laughed.

“What?” she asked.

“Sometimes you are so easy to read,” he
said.

Izzy tilted her head to get a better look at
him. “I’ll keep that in mind the next time I think about hitting
you,” she said.

“You’d only hurt yourself,” Tristan said.

“Of course you would say something like
that,” she said, then muttered under her breath, “arrogant jerk.”
He was right. Hitting someone that solid would probably break her
hand.

Tristan chuckled. “You mustn’t be concerned
about your friend’s visions,” he said.

Izzy stopped on the sidewalk. “I’m not. Why
would you bring that up?”

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “I thought
perhaps that was what you were upset about.”

“No,” she said. “I’m upset because you won’t
leave me alone and insist on disrupting my life. Hint. Hint.
Hint.”

“Oh,” he said. “I’m glad to be mistaken.
Better to be thinking that than the possibility of us having
sex.”

Her eyes rounded. “I wasn’t thinking about
having sex with you.” Izzy’s gaze automatically dropped to the
bulge straining the front of his sweatpants. He needed to change
clothes.

“Good.” Tristan gave her a knowing smirk.
“You can rest assured it’s never going to happen.”

Angry with herself for being distracted by
his perfect body, Izzy rounded on him. “Damn right it’s not!” she
snapped. “So just get that mental picture out of your head.” And
she’d do the same just as soon as he got dressed.

They continued down the sidewalk toward the
French Quarter, weaving their way through the growing crowds.
Despite it being morning, the tourists were already out enjoying
the delights the quarter offered.

“I have no idea what you’re thinking, but sex
with you never even crossed my mind. Nor would it ever with a
human
,” Tristan said in disgust.

Izzy stopped again. “What’s that supposed to
mean?”

Tristan paused, his gaze scanning the people
around them. “I do not sleep with inferior species,” he said,
giving her body a once over.

Izzy’s mouth gaped. “Who are you calling
inferior, Snowflake?”

His haughty expression spoke volumes. “You
are human. Are you not?”

Anger rose out of nowhere. “How dare you!”
Izzy shouted. “I am not a monster.”

Tristan’s jaw clenched, and he stepped
forward until there was no space between their bodies. “Neither am
I!” he snarled.

Izzy snorted. “I’m not the one who goes fuzzy
once a month.”

“I am
never
fuzzy!” he groused.

Izzy took one look at his affronted
expression and laughed in his face. It was the wrong thing to do,
but she couldn’t help it. A picture of Tristan as a big, fuzzy,
white dog popped into her mind, and she just could not shake the
image.

“Take it back,” he said softly.

“No.” She crossed her arms.

“I said, take it back,” Tristan hissed.

“No.” Izzy shook her head. “Not until you
do.”

His heated gaze dropped to her mouth, and the
tension between them changed in an instant. Suddenly the New
Orleans heat was nothing compared to the simmering air around them.
Tristan looked at her as if he wanted to eat her alive, and not in
a
wolfie
kind of way.

When he stared at her like that, Izzy forgot
all about him being a werewolf and saw him as a man. Their kiss
came back in vivid detail. Izzy’s traitorous body softened and
swayed toward him, drawn by something primal.

Tristan’s gaze grew hooded, and he crowded
even closer. Heat poured off his body, along with a spicy scent
that was unique to him alone. He unclenched his hands and reached
for her.

If he touched her, she’d lose it, lose
herself.
No! Don’t let him kiss you again.
No matter how bad
she wanted to feel his lips upon hers. Izzy’s eyes widened as the
insane thought struck, and she took a step back.

“We can’t.” She held out her hand to stop him
and encountered a wall of warm marble. Izzy’s fingers trembled as
she pulled her hand away from his bare chest. Was it her
imagination or had the color of Tristan’s eyes changed? “I’m
inferior, remember?”

* * * * *

Tristan took a deep breath, and his body
shuddered. It took supreme effort to tear his gaze away from the
temptation her mouth presented. It had been hours since he’d
claimed Isabel’s lips, but Tristan still tasted the honeysuckle on
his tongue.

He thought about Everly’s vision. She had to
be wrong. There were many ways for information to be interpreted.
It didn’t have to be sex, though he couldn’t think of any other way
that bodies intertwined. And damn if that didn’t make him hard.

Tristan glanced down at the front of his
pants and cursed. He wasn’t a little man. The snug sweats he wore
hid nothing.

Isabel followed his gaze. If it were
possible, her eyes widened even more. She couldn’t seem to tear her
attention away, which wasn’t helping his current condition at all.
His nostrils flared. Her warm scent filled his lungs.

She was still scared, but beneath the fear
Tristan smelled something else. Something utterly enticing and
overwhelmingly feminine. Isabel may not like him, but part of her
desired him.

And damn if that didn’t make his job that
much harder.

Tristan’s gaze raked Isabel. He could see the
definite outline of a feminine figure underneath her long skirt and
loose blouse. Hell, even if he couldn’t, he’d felt her body pressed
to his when he had kissed her. In that moment, whether she knew it
or not, she’d surrendered.

The beast inside him roared to life. Tristan
shook his head and grabbed hold of his shadow side. He couldn’t
afford for his beast to escape. It didn’t think like he did. Didn’t
reason. It acted on instinct. And right now its instincts were
telling it to take.

“Come,” he said. “We need to hurry.”

He needed to get to Pierre La Fontaine’s home
in the Garden District. If for no other reason than to get a break
from Isabel’s company and regain his footing.

She had him thinking about things Tristan
rarely contemplated. Work was his mistress, not wayward females
whose sense of self-preservation was questionable at best.

He led her through the French Quarter to
Canal Street then hung a right. Trolleys ran down St. Charles
Avenue to the Garden District, along with buses, but Tristan didn’t
care to wait for a bus. He preferred the open air of the
trolley.

The trolley wouldn’t take them all the way to
Pierre’s house due to the construction in the area, but it would
get them close enough. Once he checked in with the Alpha, he’d
retrieve his truck.

Tristan waited for Isabel to board, then he
climbed on after her. There weren’t any seats available, until he
walked over to a couple of young men and stared at them. They
suddenly jumped up and offered him their wooden seat.

He grabbed Isabel by the elbow and guided her
onto the bench. She scowled at him, which was becoming an unwelcome
habit. He much preferred her teasing. When she did that, Isabel
reminded Tristan of his little brother, François.

He too had been a free spirit, floating
through life without a care in the world. That was why it had been
so easy for the lone wolf to kill him.

François had been so trusting, so innocent
that when the wolf attacked, he’d been helpless to defend himself.
His death had changed Tristan’s life forever—changed Tristan
forever. The loss had turned him into what he was now. The cold
distance kept the pain at bay.

Tristan glanced at her. Isabel and François
really were so much alike that at times the similarity scared him.
When that happened, he pushed her away using cruelty to make her
withdraw.

He pictured his brother’s mangled body. Would
Isabel meet the same fate?

The thought left him feeling decidedly
uncomfortable. Tristan closed his eyes and clutched the window
frame of the trolley until the wood moaned beneath his grip, then
he slowly released it along with the bad memories. He didn’t like
thinking about the past. There was nothing he could do about it,
but he could change the future.