If That’s the Best You Can Do

*Rose*

I am still sniffling as I look at Tristan, who is looking at me with readable worry in his eyes. I know I look like a hot mess, and I can feel some watery mucus dripping from my nose. I grimace as I can imagine what he is thinking seeing me in such a state. Why am I worried about what I look like in the supposed comfort and privacy of my room?

What is he doing in my bedroom? Didn’t his mother teach him that girls’ rooms are a no-no for boys? Do I need a privacy signpost on my door now?

My frustration with Emily and the blabbering Mark is turning into rage, and I am afraid if I don’t get a grip on my emotions, I will take them out on Tristan. He is innocent… wait, scratch that. He is busy snooping in my room and thus is not innocent either.

“What are you doing in here, Alpha Tristan?” I try to be as polite as I can muster given the present circumstances and my somber mood.

“The door was unlocked.. I was looking for you. I’m sorry to have just come in. This probably makes me look like a person who doesn’t respect boundaries, doesn’t it?”

I wipe my nose with the back of my hand. ‘You think?’ I silently muse.

He reaches into the pockets of his jeans and takes out a small pack of facial tissues, handing it to me. My brow rises, but I accept the tissues. Does he always conveniently walk around with an unopened pack of tissues? Does he somehow always expect to meet a damsel in distress in need of tissues for her pathetic tears and snotty face–or are they for something else…?

“Thank you,” I say as I open the plastic wrapping, taking one out and using it to dab at my face. What I really want to do is thoroughly wipe my face and noisily blow my nose, but I can’t do that in front of Tristan. I have to try to act like a somewhat proper lady. Damn etiquette getting in the way.

“Why are you crying?” Tristan asks.

I shrug, not sure if I have the strength to begin explaining what is going on. I also don’t think it’s necessary to tell him about Mark’s supposed nasty review of our night together. After all, if he told the other Alphas how horrible I am in bed, then I am sure Tristan already knows.

Maybe he is actually here to try to wriggle out of the inevitable disappointment that is sex with me. We don’t want him projectile vomiting as well.

“Nothing. Just girl stuff.”

I can see a crease form in his forehead. “Is it that time of the month?”

What the heck? I feel myself blushing from head to toe. Are none of these people shy about asking such intimate questions?

Having grown up in the kind of household I did, we never discussed such matters as if we were talking about some nice meal. To be standing in front of this Alpha talking about my period just felt so wrong.

“No!” I answer a bit louder than I mean to.

I side-step him and walk toward the bed, then remove my wedges and sit on the plush comforter. I look up and see him walk toward me. He pulls out the chair from the dressing table and positions it in front of me before sitting down.

“Talk to me, Rose. Who made you cry? I promise I will deal with them personally.”

I smile bitterly at him. Can he really straighten out the king's kin, Emily, by himself? And what benefit would it offer him?

His eyes have a genuine sincerity as they search mine. I feel myself warming up to this handsome room invader who keeps eyeing me with such concern.

“Since I got here, Emily has been taking incessant jabs at me. I mean, I know I am nowhere near as respected, beautiful, and well-connected as she is, but I don’t think that gives her the right to bully me and stab me where it hurts the most every chance she gets.”

I am surprised when Tristan throws his head back and lets out a belly laugh. I stare at him, shocked, wondering why he is making fun of me.

“My dear, Emily has nothing on you. She does all that because she is jealous of you,” he playfully nudges my chin with his index finger. “If she had no relation to the king, I would use my last dime to put her on a spaceship to somewhere on another planet. Hell, I would pay extra to make it a one-way trip.”

I can’t help but laugh at his statement. He joins me and places his hand on my knee, the feel of it making me warm and fuzzy all over.

What is happening? Only Mark is supposed to make me feel like this, right?

“Thank you for trying to comfort me,” I say as I tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear while licking my lips that suddenly feel dry. I wish the lip gloss was as enduring as the makeup on my face.

“I hope I always manage to put a smile on your face. I don’t think I can bear to see you sad or crying.” I look at him, searching for a hint of humor in his features but realize that there is nothing but stern genuineness there.

My heart does a little spin and I know my skin must be resembling a tomato by now. This man is charming, protective, and kind. How had I not realized that before?

“Thank you, Alpha Tristan,” I say, and I really mean it. I assumed he had come to find me to inform me of his intentions of dropping out of the race, but it appears the rumor that was allegedly spread about my poor bedroom prowess had not deterred him in the least.

“I do hope that, after tonight, you will drop that prefix. Maybe call me something else?”

My mouth is suddenly dry. I swallow hard. Is it him I am going to be with tonight?

“Uh… tonight be with me… I mean it is you I am on tonight,” I stutter and trip on my own words. What the heck is wrong with me?

Tristan laughs and stands then comes to sit next to me on the bed. He pulls me to him, and my body complies. My head rests on the side of his chest. I can hear the faint sound of his heartbeat.

“Yes, my little flower. It is I you will be on tonight.” Again he chuckles.

Oh, my! I am glad he can’t see my face while sitting in this position, as I am sure by now I might be mistaken for a lobster.

“Oh, okay,” I sigh and flinch. Is that all I have to say? Why can’t I come up with something witty to say like those heroines I read about in those romance stories? Maybe I could have said something like, ‘Yeah, my ‘possum, I can’t wait to really be on you!’ Wait a minute, ‘possum’? Where did that come from? Am I really this bad at giving pet names?

He gently releases me and claims my hand as he looks deep into my eyes. We are so close that I find myself praying that he can’t hear how his closeness is causing my heartbeat to accelerate.

“Whenever anyone makes you sad, don’t ever hesitate to come to me. You must know that these shoulders of mine are always there for you. I am here for you… my little precious flower. I will never allow anyone to hurt you!”

Precious flower? That’s so much more endearing than a ‘possum.

I nod. I can tell by his tone that he is serious. “Thank you,” I respond gently.

He inclines his head to the side as if he expected me to say something more.

“I was hoping you would say, ‘Thank you, sweetheart,’ or whatever nickname you pick for me. But I understand I haven’t earned that name yet. I promise, Rose, that I will work hard to please you and be deserving of that name.”

Oh, wow. This man seems set on going all out to please wretched, poor me. If only he knew I was not good at returning the favor. I will need to do a bit more romance studying before tonight.

If I give him the best night, then he can tell that stupid Mark how great the sex was and how I blew him away. Is Tristan a kiss and tell kind of guy?

I nod and manage to squeeze his hand reassuringly.

“I can’t wait,” I release him excitedly, and I see him smile even with his eyes. He stands up with my hand still in his.

“Can I get a hug?” he asks, and I nod before standing. I have to stand on my tippy toes to embrace his neck. He pulls me closer to him and bends slightly to make my reach less strained.

I can feel his soft breath kissing the skin on my neck, and my breath catches. Like seriously, how am I having these butterflies for yet another man just after thinking I had fallen for Mark and had sworn I could never fall again?

“I hope you keep smiling, my little flower. Just know that I’ve got you, and you’ve got me. Tonight, I plan to spark magic into your existence. All I ask is for your permission to blow you away and make you scream my name, without the prefix. Please.”

“You have my permission,” I reply, wanting to add ‘possum’ to the end of it. My permission, my heroic ‘possum’ has a ring to it… I think.

I feel my body awaken to the prospect of tonight. His words carry both a promise and a threat…yet either way, I can’t wait for our night together.