Creatures

TWENTY-NINE

"Why?" He reiterated.

This is not a conversation she wanted to have. She wanted his pants off.

He realized this. "You're not getting any part of me until you answer my question."

"It's too much." She blurted out.

He blinked at her. "Oh, so we can fuck in a public bathroom against the wall but missionary? No, that's too much."

"I can't look you in the face." She finally said.

It started to make more sense to him. Sigh, Chrissy and her inability to process feelings.

"Maybe because you love me?" He prodded a little more gently, kissing her again. 

She grumbled, rolled her eyes.

Tristan pulled up Chrissy's shirt and bra over her breasts and lowered his head. His kiss to her nipple turned into a suck, then a sharp bite. She shuddered, inhaled sharply and kicked him. Not hard. "What was that for?!"

"Rolling your eyes at me." He said. "You like it, don't lie."

Yes, it did indeed turn her on.

She would never tell him that.

Chrissy wrapped her legs around his hips and dug her heels into his ass. "Baby, please."

The fully mated male could no longer refuse.

He threw his shirt across the room, and repeated the same with his jeans. Tristan grabbed her by the waist and threw her up further on the bed. The ribbons tightened accordingly. He crawled between her thighs and started kissing her deeply. He shifted his weight to his elbows rather than his hands. She felt the weight of his body on top of her.

His hips worked against hers, their bodies sliding against one another.

Tristan didn't let Chrissy hide her beautiful face this time. He wanted to see her. It was like discovering her for the first time all over again. The smell of her hair, the flash of her golden eyes.

When it was all over, he rolled off to her side, catching his breath. The ribbons slithered back into nothingness. He reached for her, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw Chrissy get up and walk away.

He sat up, watched her walk into the bathroom and close the door. In natural lost-puppy fashion, he followed her.

Christine was standing above the vanity, wiping tears off her face with the heel of her palm. They weren't angry tears... These were sad. Very sad. "I hate you," she finally said, brokenly.

He didn't take that to heart. "What's wrong?"

"I love you, is what's wrong." She was trying very hard not to choke on her words, but wasn't succeeding. "Because you aren't going to win."

He stared at her. "What do you mean?" He had to laugh to try and break the tension. "Of course I'll win. You've seen him, you've seen me."

"Then why do you believe it?" She asked him. "You're acting like you're not coming back. You don't want me to come with you. You're not out there training right now. You know something." She accused.

James has wanted his crown for decades. Something has changed. Something made him confident enough to finally go for it. James had an ace up his sleeve — he must have — and Tristan had no clue what it might be.

He didn't know what to say.

*

The day came.

On the outside, it looked like an old farmhouse in the country. Once stepping inside, magic took over. The ceiling vanished into the sky. A full outdoor ring appeared before them, complete with dirt flooring and dark stone stadium seating. There was an audience already there. Tristan took Christine's hand as they walked down the stone seats into the center ring. Jasper and Ryn were with them, and a few others, like Christine's brothers.