Chapter 22
Aaliyah
"I really do think you should see a therapist," I said.
He stepped away, running his fingers through his hair. "You think something is wrong with me?"
"You need..." I trailed off, thinking of the right words to say so as not to piss him off.
"You think I'm a monster. Is that what you see me as?" he asked.
I felt a chill spread up my spine, and I softly gulped at his words. "I... I don't see you as a monster ," I lied. "I think you are just lost."
"Lost?" He scoffed. "I am not lost."
I stared at him in silence. Then he stepped closer, grabbing my wrist, and pulled me back to the couch.
"I need you to continue reading for me," he said. "Maybe when I've slept, I will relieve you from this stress."
I took the journal from him, sitting down on the couch. He walked towards the bed and laid down.
'October 10th, 1956...
I felt it again tonight. The rush of power and the constant hunger to kill again. It never gets old, seeing the fear in their eyes, the screams, and pleas. But there is no mercy left in me. I know I am supposed to feel something, regret, remorse. But all I feel is the satisfaction of killing him.'
I continued reading for over ten minutes. When I heard him snoring, I raised my head to see Tristan fast asleep.
I shut the journal, rising from the couch, and I slowly walked towards the bed. Sitting down next to Tristan, I found my hands reaching to touch his face. I caressed his cheek, feeling how warm he was.
Tristan stirred in his sleep, murmuring something under his breath. I paused for a moment, closely watching the rise and fall of his chest.
I raised my hand to his hair, brushing through it. He let out a soft sigh, turning to the other side as his hand unconsciously wrapped around my waist.
I laid my head on the bed, brushing his hair as I watched him sleep. Even in his sleep, he looked so damn innocent, like a child unaware of his surroundings.
…
Waking up was like fighting through the nightmare and voices that whispered into my ears. Brief glimpses of my dream were hard to catch as I tried to remember what happened. A woman. No, a beautiful pregnant woman. The woman had fallen to her knees, holding her belly. She'd cried to me, and then I saw nothing.
I blinked, clearing the fog from my vision as I stared at the ceiling. I slowly became aware that I was lying in Tristan's bed.
I inhaled sharply as I sat up on the bed.
"Good morning."
At the sound of the familiar voice, I turned to stare at Tristan, who was standing by the window holding a glass of whiskey. He was dressed in a casual white long-sleeved shirt and black baggy trousers.
As I continued staring at him, I realized something. I'd slept with Tristan in his room. My heart beat unsteadily in my chest as I remembered what happened last night.
Tiny bumps broke out on my skin at the intensity of his stare.
I rubbed my forehead as I let out a sigh. "I slept off."
He raised an eyebrow. "Are you supposed to stay awake throughout the night?"
"I shouldn't have slept here. I should have gone to my room the minute I saw you already dozed off."
"I don't see any problem with the both of us sharing the same bed," he said, taking a gulp from the drink and setting the glass down.
Then he walked towards the bed, moving closer to me. "What would you like to have for breakfast?"
"Where is Piper?"
"She's busy at the moment."
"Then I will make breakfast myself," I said, rising from the bed when he pulled me back.
"Stay seated."
"I don't want to stay seated while you cook alone in the kitchen. I need to make something for us. I'm used to cooking."
He smiled. "Why don't we do it together?"
Arriving at the kitchen, Tristan gathered the ingredients I would use to cook the food while I cut the vegetables.
"Why don't you have maids?" I asked.
"I respect my privacy," he replied.
"I don't think that's the only reason."
"Yeah," he sighed. "One time when I had maids working in the house, I was nearly poisoned."
My eyes widened slightly, wondering why he would have so many enemies. Then I thought of his diary he'd written with the records of people he killed. It shouldn't be so surprising to me that they would seek to kill him.
"But you let Piper prepare your food," I said. "You trust her?"
"Piper is family," he said. "A distant cousin."
Once we were done with the food, I left the kitchen with a tray in my hand. Setting the tray down, I felt my skin break out in goosebumps. I felt Tristan's body press onto me, his hands moving around my waist.
"You know the hardest thing for me now?"
"What?"
"I find it hard to resist you," he replied.
I shivered when I felt his fingers circling around my skin.
"I can smell your arousal, little mouse," he whispered, teasing me with his fingers.
I gasped, sidestepping when he pulled me closer.
"Don't," he murmured. "Don't move."
I held my breath as I felt his fingers going further and further. I was one step away from pulling back when a guard walked in.
"Your Grace," the guard bowed his head.
Tristan frowned. "Speak."
"The tailor has arrived."