“It’s just pain,” Tristan said.
“I don’t think it’s healthy.” Nathaniel over-enunciated each word. “So we need a new plan. Suggestions?”
Gabriel said, “She can live with me like before and we’ll just keep her away from Tristan. Maybe he could live in my building so he’s not too close to her.”
Tristan said, “Yes, except living that close to her means I’ll feel her.”
Gabriel made a face. “So get over it.”
Tristan scoffed. “Right.”
He was such a baby about the whole feeling thing.
Nathaniel looked at Tristan. “If you have to, move further away.”
“It won’t work.” Tristan shook his head. “She could still find me.”
“So then we’ll rationally explain to her to leave you alone.” Nathaniel shrugged.
Tristan set his jaw. “I can assure you that won’t work. So I have a plan.”
“Really.” Gabriel leaned forward on the coach and rested his elbows on his knees. “Enlighten us. Please.”
“I’m going to be in Scarlet’s life this time. She’ll know where I am. She’ll see me.”
Already, this was the worst plan ever.
Tristan hesitated. “But my plan will keep her from touching me.”
“So what is your plan?” Gabriel asked impatiently.
“It’s a drastic plan that you don’t need the details to.”
Gabriel said, “I’m against this plan.”
“How can you guarantee she won’t touch you?” Nathaniel did not seem bothered by Tristan’s lack of information.
Tristan pushed back from the wall. “Trust me. In her next life, Scarlet won’t want me at all.”
Gabriel’s stomach churned at the tone of Tristan’s voice and, given Tristan’s dark attitude lately, the last thing he wanted to do was “trust” him.
“Yeah. I don’t think so. Why don’t we just go with my plan, where she lives with me and you stay the hell away from her?”
“Because your plan has a million holes in it.”
“And your plan isn’t a plan at all. It’s a vague almost-idea and I don’t trust you.”
“Nathaniel.” Tristan looked at their silent friend. “Do you trust me?”
Gabriel rolled his eyes. Sometime over the last hundred years, Tristan and Nathaniel had become the best of pals and, despite Tristan’s unfriendliness and nonstop sour moods, Nathaniel still liked the guy.
Traitor.
Nathaniel took a deep breath. “I trust you. But I also care about Scarlet so—“
“She won’t die. At least, not because of me. I promise.”
“Hell, no.” Gabriel started shaking his head.
Tristan exhaled. “Don’t be an ass, Gabe. Just let me try my plan.”
Gabriel hesitated. “Fine. What do you want us to do?”
Tristan cracked his knuckles—knuckles that spent most every night swollen and split open in a bloody ring—and said, “I’ll let you know when she comes back to life.”
That night, Tristan slowly unwrapped his hands, his heart still racing from his fights earlier. All wins.
It was in moments like these, where his adrenaline was high and his wounds were healing, that the guilt couldn’t find him. Something about the pounding of flesh, the ache of physical pain being inflicted by another man, made him feel redeemed.
He stood in the alley, healing in the darkness so his opponents and fight conductors would not see. His immortal body was inconvenient in this sport—and in his life. He had yet to find a weapon that could permanently scar his skin, so he was no closer to saving Scarlet.
He turned his head and spit out the blood that had accumulated in his mouth from the last chin jab he’d taken. That’s when he saw Alexandria sauntering over to him.
He bit back a groan and returned to unwrapping his hands.
“You did well tonight.” She came up beside him under the dim light of the moon.
“What do you want, Alex?”
She looked up at him through her thick lashes, her sharp eyes heavy with intent. She was beautiful and the epitome of sexuality. Most men would want nothing more than her attention after a night of fighting. Tristan was not most men.
“Why must I want something? Have you considered I may, perhaps, just enjoy your company?”
“I have considered that.”
Her fingertips touched his stomach and ran up his bare chest, sending a cool shiver over his sweat-glistened body.
“But then your hands find their way around my skin,” Tristan said, “and I begin to question the companionship you seek.”
She lifted her chin and brought her mouth near his, her lips so close he could smell the strawberries he’d seen her eating earlier. “We all need companionship, Tristan.” Her hands slid back down his body and traced the waistband of his fighting pants. “Even you, with your lonely soul.”
Tristan stared at the beautiful woman whose hands were doing dangerous things to his body. She had heat and vibrancy and a body that could probably do wonders for any man.
But she did not have fight or passion. And she did not have blue eyes that knew his secrets.
“I have no heart to give you,” he said.
Alex moved her hands across his chest. “I’m not after your heart.”
“Clearly.” Tristan kept his eyes steady on hers. “But I’m not interested.”
She smiled wickedly. “Not tonight, maybe.”
“Not ever.”
She kept her smile in place, but removed her hands from his body as she stepped back. “Very well, fighter.” She looked him up and down. “Let me know if you change your mind.”
CHAPTER 22
Boston 1892
Scarlet had been alive for exactly two days when Tristan suggested that Gabriel and Nathaniel—who now insisted on being called ‘Nate’—bring her to watch one of his matches.
He was boxing now? It was hard for Scarlet to wrap her head around her gentle, peaceful Hunter slamming his fists into another man’s flesh for sport and she had told him as much.
But Tristan had merely shrugged. He hadn’t spoken more than ten words to her since she’d come back to life and he’d treated her coldly every time they’d been in the same room together.
No hot glances. No acknowledgement of her feelings. Nothing.
She wasn’t sure what to make of his rude behavior, but she didn’t push him. Not because she didn’t plan to, but because she’d been gone for a hundred years and a lot can happen in a century.
Nate had warned her that Tristan had changed and, while Scarlet was sure that was true, she refused to believe he was a different person all together.