Sold to the coldhearted beast

Fighting his own demons

*Tristan*

Hell and damnation!

As soon as I am in my bedchamber with the door slammed behind me, I begin tearing at my wet clothes before they suffocate me. Buttons go flying, brocade and linen are ripped. I am fighting to draw in breath, I have been ever since I had made the awful decision to carry the woman back to my residence. I knew it was a mistake the moment she wound her arms about my neck and clung painstakingly to me.

I couldn’t very well drop her at that point, no matter how desperately I had wanted to be rid of her cloying hold. So I had urged myself on with a mantra: One more step, one more step. Almost there.

Knowing all the while that I am lying to myself, that I had a good distance to travel. Why the devil hadn’t I taken the time to have my carriage brought round ? I was almost certain where she was going. Instead, like a blundering i***t, I rushed out into the rain, changed into my Wolf and charged after her to ensure that she reached her destination without being harmed.

I had wanted Littlefoot, the worthless bastard, to tell her exactly what his plans for her had been, that he had purposely set out to ruin her, to turn her into what her mother had been. I had intended to lead her back to my residence with the assurance that I would forgive her behavior, but that I would not tolerate it in the future.

Instead, I had watched as she had banged on the locked door, had heard her exchange words with the butler when he finally appeared to her summoning, and had seen her crumple into a shattered heap.

Damn Littlefoot for being the coward he is!

With my clothes finally strewn about my bedchamber, I march to the fireplace and set match to kindling. When the fire is finally going properly, I stand. The flames licks at the air, but the warmth barely reaches me as, legs spread, head bowed, I grab the mantel and stare into the writhing precipice. Finally able to breathe again, I gasp in great draughts of air.

Anger swirls through me. Anger at Littlefoot for his unsavory handling of the situation; anger at the woman for looking at me in abject despair.

Images of my own horrid experience at the age of ten had rushed through my mind. It is unsettling to feel completely helpless, to not know how to make things right for her. I had wanted to shout at her to stop blubbering, buck up, be strong, stop being a baby …

I press my head to the hard edge of the marble mantel, welcoming it digging into my brow. Was that the reason that my brother had lashed out at me, called me a baby all those years ago ? Because he had felt helpless, maybe even terrified himself, had feared that he was on the verge of tears as well ?

It had unnerved me to see her reduced to a lifeless heap, especially when the evening before she had been daring enough to inform me that we didn’t suit. As though I wanted us to be well matched, as though it mattered to me.

I should have left her on her brother’s front stoop, but by the Goddess, she is mine now. I have claimed her, whether she likes it or not. Whether I like it or not. I have put a great deal of effort into building a reputation as being someone who is dangerous, who get my way at all costs, who is not to be trifled with. What would happen to my reputation if word got out that I had allowed her to escape me ?

The pack's fondness for gossip is astounding. That me and my brothers are often the center of that gossip is beyond discussion. Why anyone cares what we do is outside my comprehension, but care they apparently do.

Ever since we disappeared on a cold wintry night in the year of the Goddess 1844. Rumors went wild regarding what had truly happened to us. When we returned to the surface, the gossip worsened. We are viewed as barbaric, just because I had held a pistol on a servant who had refused to announce our arrival at our uncle’s ball, and Stephan had very nearly choked out uncle to death when he had first set eyes on him. It had not helped matters that several months later our uncle died mysteriously.

So it is with certainty that I know a good many people are well aware that I have taken on a mistress. Which means, by the Goddess, that she will serve as my mistress. Whether she wants to or not. Whether I want her to or not.

I am not a man known to waver when it comes to decision making. I set my course, travel it, and the Goddess have mercy on anyone who seeks to block my path or prevent me from reaching my destination.

I do not know how long I stare into the fire arguing with myself, convincing myself that the arrangement regarding Everlyn … a name that doesn’t roll easily off my tongue … has been made, and that I will follow it through, regardless of cost, when the rap on the door brings my scathing diatribe up short.

“Yes ?” I reply.

“The lady has finished her bath, sir. She is presently drinking tea”. Laurence speaks through the door. Every servant knows that no one is admitted into my chamber. No one. They think I'm eccentric. If they knew the truth, they would believe me to be mad.

“Very well, that’s all”. I reply before shoving myself away from the mantel. I have a blinding headache.

I combed my fingers through my unruly hair. It is dry, so I must have been waiting for her to be ready to receive me for some time now. When I am lost in thought, minutes could slip away without me realizing it. I do not allow clocks to govern my life. I do what I need to do when I need to do it.

Now I need to speak with her, make sure we come to an understanding regarding the situation.

I do not bother to ring for my valet. No need to dress formally. Trousers and a loose shirt is about all I need.

I glance at the door that separates my room from hers. I won’t use it tonight. For her sake I will enter through the hallway, but after our discussion, she will understand that no barrier has the power to keep me from her.