Essence (Nectar 3)

“What’ll you do without your right hand man back home?”

“I’ve got other guys who can help me.”

“More minions? Endless minions to cater to the whims of the prince?” she teased.

“Yeah,” he looked deep in thought, contemplating something. He looked a million miles away.

It didn’t take long after the plane took off for Kyla to fall back to sleep, head on Tristan’s shoulder. Tristan snuggling her close.

She didn’t know what was next but she felt cautiously optimistic. The fact that this coalition had high level elders on it was good news, wasn’t it? This coalition had a live and let live attitude and that didn’t sound at all terrible. When compared to the world of elitism, hedonism, and carnage Tristan had described, some of which she’d witnessed, it sounded awesome.

There was a lot to figure out, sure, but they’d come through things okay so far, despite some seriously big challenges.-10-Tristan was standing over Liam Donavan. Or, what was left of him. She could make out his features on a face, blood streaked long blond hair, but the rest of Liam was on the floor in the great room of the cottage back at Adrian’s compound. Kyla was looking down at Tristan, eyes black, his skin grey, and his fangs were out, Liam’s head in his hand, mouth open, teeth broken, toothpaste commercial smile long gone. The rage rolling off Tristan was petrifying.She jerked awake, startled. But she was in the safety of a cocoon made of Tristan. He wrapped his arms tighter around her and pulled her closer, “S’okay, just a dream,” he muttered, half asleep, eyes still closed. He kissed her forehead.

“Did you see it?” she asked.

Could he see inside her dreams?

“No,” he opened his eyes, “What was it?”

They were still on the plane. She was on Tristan, curled up in a ball on his lap, head on his chest and he was reclined in his plane seat. She sat up straighter and looked out the window.

Dawn was kissing the sky. Dark blue with a line of orange and yellow and crimson, almost like a horizontal rainbow, with the sun, a ball of yellow fire. She wiped her eyes with her fingertips and yawned. It was surreal beauty in front of her but she couldn’t help but still be affected by the ugliness from the dream.

“Liam Donavan, in pieces. You…” She stopped. She didn’t want to describe it.

He gave her a squeeze and was about to speak but a man’s head poked out the cockpit door, “Can you buckle up, please? We land soon.”

Tristan jerked fully awake and his arms instantly went tighter around her for a quick squeeze and then he stood, lifting her up and then putting her in the seat beside him. He buckled her seatbelt, stretched with a loud yawn, and then sat back in his seat, pulled it back to fully upright, and then buckled his belt.

“A horrible dream,” she muttered, “So gross.”

“A memory,” Tristan whispered darkly.

“Memory? That happened?” she hadn’t yet asked what’d happened with Liam.

“You saw me kill him, or saw the end of that. I don’t know. You were out of it but afterwards I saw you at the top of the stairs, watching me. Did this dream take place back in that cottage at the compound?”

Kyla shivered and decided to push it away, “Yeah. Uh, I have to pee,” she said with a yawn, trying to be casual, trying to feel casual.

“Hey!” Tristan called and the door opened to the cockpit.

“Does she have time for the bathroom?”

“Yes sir, if she’s quick about it.”

Kyla unbuckled and dashed to the tiny bathroom. She pushed the dream away by not looking at her reflection, not wanting to see what she knew would be a freaked out expression. When she was back, she buckled in beside him and put her hand on his thigh.

He took her hand and brought it to his lips and as he kissed it, he stared deep into her eyes and she knew he didn’t want her to be affected by that memory. She felt chills run up her body and she wasn’t sure if they were from the dream, from the intense look on his face, or maybe a bit of both.

“Love you,” she whispered.

“Love you, princess.” He gave her hand a squeeze and his body loosened, as if he was relieved that she wasn’t holding the memory against him.

How could she?

Liam could’ve killed her, almost did, and he could’ve even killed Tristan. And he’d sexually violated her, too. From what she knew of Tristan and what she’d remembered when he tore Claudio apart she certainly didn’t expect Tristan to just give Liam a black eye for his transgressions.

She looked out the window and could see Toronto below. So much had happened since she’d left for Vancouver Island. So many things. Everything kept changing. Would it ever settle down and resemble normal?