PROLOUGE
England, 1991
Thursday, July 9th
Two months after Miseria’s birth

“Donovan, are you sure about this? Shouldn’t we atleast wait until they are both old enough to decide for themselves?” Elaine Machio asked her husband as she slid her arms around his bare waist to lay her head against his warm chest.
“Yes, Elly, I’m sure. They will be perfect together. And you know it’s the only way to ensure Mark’s daughter is taken care of like I promised, and it also insures that Tristan will have an heir. Tristan will have no objections, you know he will do as we ask of him.” Donovan said, wrapping an arm around his petite wife’s waist and slid his other hand up and down her back to sooth her.
“I know, and I trust you. It’s just that I think Tristan and the young girl should marry for love, not for an heir, or protection! They should marry the people they love, like we did!” Elly exclaimed, pulling away from him and lifting her small chin, her olive tinted cheeks flushed.
“I do too, but I promised Mark and I will keep my promise. Besides, Tristan is going to love her plenty if she is anything like her mother! If I wasn’t in love with you I would probably be interested in Maria, but I’m not. But if Marks daughter is anything like Maria, then there will be no reason for Tristan not to love her!”
“Donovan-!”
“Enough! I have made my decision already. This is not a topic for conversation anymore, Elaine!”
“Fine, then you can warm your own bed tonight!” Elaine said, storming out of the large bedroom, scowlding.
Shaking his head Donovan could only hope his wife would come to accept his decision. He had no intention of changing his mind, not after promising Mark that his daughter would be taken care of.
And, Donovan thought calmly, Donovan Machio always kept his promises. No matter what anyone said.


CHAPTER ONE
America, 2009
Monday, May 17
Two days after Miseria’s birthday

"Miss. Brimstone, is there a good reason for why you are sleeping in my class?" A high pitched, and very annoyed, voice said, rousing Seria from sleep.
"Well, I guess it has to do with your math class being so boring, and that I didn't sleep last night." Seria said, giving her teacher her arrogant 'You can't touch me.' grin.
"Out!" Ms. Lany said, scrunching up her botox filled face in annoyance.
"Sure thing." Seria said, walking to the door and saluting the other students. "Good luck in jail." She said, earning laughter and a gasp of indignation.
"Out, now! To the principals office!" Her teacher said, narrowing ice blue eyes at Seria's own chocolate brown ones. Tossing her straight, dark brown hair behind her defiantly she grinned. "Of course, Ms. Lany. Anything for the botox queen!" With that Seria kicked the door shut behind her and took off down the hall, heading for the stairs.
She had no intention of going to the principals office, not when he was still stewing from the disaster that had been his anniversary a week before. The poor guy had walked into his home two hours early to find his wife in bed with his older brother. And of course everyone else in town had known about the affair for months and just couldn't make themselves tell him. Poor sap, she thought to herself.


Taking out her mp3 player she stuck the black headphones in her ears and turned on the last song she had listened to. Turning the music up on full blast she opened the door to the stairwell and started her walk down the three flights of stairs. Patting her hands against her legs she wished she had her sketchbook. She hated to be without it but she wasn’t aloud to bring it to the school with her.
Shifting her backpack on her shoulder she listened to Pink’s song "Pretty pretty please". She had never really cared what people thought of her, and never thought less of herself because of their opinions. Suddenly, thanks to her tight jeans pocket, the song changed to "Maybe" by the sick puppies. One side of her mouth twitching up in an exasperated smile she pulled out her mp3 player and searched her songs for one to change it to, not watching where she was going. Clicking play when "Jar of hearts" came into view, she didn't notice the tall, frowning, teen boy heading toward her with his eyes closed and scrunched up like he had a headache.
Lifting her head, she collided head first with his chest and landed on her butt on the steps in front of him. Her face going red she ignored the slight pain in her rear as the guy leaned over and helped her stand.
"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you!" He said, his voice holding the slightest of British accents.
"Uomini!" She mumbled under her breath. "It's fine, I'm okay." She said louder.
"Now look here, lady, I apologized!" He said, sounding insulted.
"And I said it was fine!" She said, confused.
"Donne!" He mumbled, scolding at her with narrowed grey blue eyes.
"Aspetta un attimo, lei parla italiano?" She asked, gaping a him.
"Sì, proprio come voi." He said, smirking.
"Watch it pal, I don't like smart mouths!" She warned, smiling at him. It had been a long time since she had spoken Italian with someone besides her mother, and this little meeting gave her a chance to show off. "Allora, qual è il tuo nome, straniero? Perché sei sicuro non guardare italiano a me."
"I'm only one third Italian, that’s true, but the blood is there. And my name? I am Tristan, it means bold, rash...shameless." He said as he grinned down at her. "And yours?"
"Guess." She said, starting down the stairs with him following her.
"Mia?" He asked, smirking. The smirk didn't meet his irritated but slightly amused eyes.
"Guess again." She commanded, grinning.
"Daphne?" He asked, his smirk faltering.
"Nope. Try again, Tristan." She said, smirking smugly.
"Kara?"
"Wrong."
"Allison?" Tristan's voice was right behind her, and very annoyed.
"Wrong again." She said, walking out the door at the bottom of the steps. Starting across the parking lot she pulled her skate board out of her bag.
"At least give me a hint!" He pleaded, his face curious.
"Ok..., it's not an English name." She said, grinning evilly before pushing with her foot and rolling off.


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Tristan Machio watched in awe as the dark haired beauty rolled out of site of her skateboard. Turning around and heading back up the stairs he silently reprimanded himself for flirting with her when he was hear to pick up his fiancée. Given, he had flirted and insinuated lots with plenty of women, but he was here on business and that girl with chocolate brown eyes was not that business! No matter how much he wished she were....
Shaking his head of short, blond hair, he tried to redirect his thoughts to that of his bride to be. She was supposed to be in a math class or something of the sort. He wouldn't know, he thought, since he had been taught at home by tutors of all types. Grimacing he thought that the skateboarder girl had probably been ditching her class. Not that he blamed her, everyone hated school when they looked as tired as she did.
"That girl really should get some more sleep." He said aloud, his brow furrowing with worry. Surprised, he froze. Worry? He was Tristan Machio, Prince Tristan Machio! He didn't worry about girls he met only moments before, especially ones that looked to be about as stubborn and hard headed as a mule! Not that Mystery Girl was ugly, no, she was beautiful. Long, dark, wavy brown hair, big warm chocolate brown eyes, features on her face that proclaimed her Indian and Italian heritage, and full dark lips on a mouth that widened into the most startlingly small white teeth that were perfectly straight.
Cursing under his breath Tristan tried to stop thinking about her, whoever she was it was obvious she wasn't his fiancée. And that was who he was here to see, he told himself as he walked up to the classroom door that was wide open. Apparently the class had ended moments before. A small blond woman sat behind the largest desk grading papers. Knocking on the door he smiled down at her.
"Hello, Madame. My name is Tristan Machio, I was wondering if you could help me?" He asked, smiling down at her as recognition of his name triggered a wide eyed, breathless look.
"O-of course! My n-name is A-Allison Lany. H-how may I h-help you, Mr. Machio?" The blond asked, taking in a few deep breaths, trying to calm herself. Then again it couldn't be everyday a Prince from England walked into her class room.
"Wonderful! I'm looking for a young girl, probably a year or two younger than myself. Her name is Miseria Brimstone, do you know where I can find her?" He asked, smiling down at her again.
"Seria Brimstone? What could you possibly want with that disobedient, hardheaded, lazy, and just plain rude girl?" Allison Lany asked, the disgust in her voice mingling with sheer shock.
"Seria Brimstone, her phone number, and her address. What I have to do with the girl is of no importance to you, Ms. Lany." He said frostily, narrowing his eyes at her. She may not have known it but she had just insulted his fathers best friends daughter. And that did not bode well for her if she was intending to do anything other than scrub floors. Still frowning at her he took the file folder she offered and left the school, still fuming over the unrealized attack at his fathers most trusted friends daughter.


CHAPTER TWO


Walking up to the front door of the Brimstone home Tristan had to steel himself and take a deep breath. Knocking on the maroon painted wooden door he waited patiently on the small front porch. The outside of the house was pleasant enough, with maroon shingles, a maroon door, and porch swing, and white walls. There were small flower beds on either side of the front steps and a small, growing, oak tree on the right side of the walk.
Turning to the door as it opened, Tristan was staring into wide, pale brown eyes on a small woman with graying brown hair and olive skin. She was just short enough to have to stare up at him.
“May I help you, Sir?” She asked, her husky voice seeming slightly familiar. Shaking off the slight sense of de ja-vu, Tristan smiled down at the pretty woman and held out his hand.
“Hello, Ma’am, I’m looking for the Brimstones.” He said, shaking her hand lightly.
“I am Mrs. Maria Brimstone. How may I help you?” She asked, gesturing him inside. Once there she motioned for him to sit, taking the chair beside a small brown couch.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Brimstone. I am Tristan Machio, my father was-.”
“Your father was Mark’s most trusted friend. Yes, I know. You are here to collect you bride, I assume?” She said, her face a frozen mask of impassive dislike.
“Well, she is essential for the wedding.” He began, a wry grin spreading across his face. “May I speak to her please? I know you probably don’t approve to this arrangement, Mrs. Brimstone, but it is very important to my family that I marry Miseria, and that is what I intend to do.” He finished, his face serious.
“You are correct, Mr. Machio, I don’t approve. It isn’t you, but simply the face that it is an arranged marriage is all that bothers me.” She said, her face softening a bit, her mouth eased into a half smile. “You will find Seria at the park around the basketball court most likely. She loves sports, especially basketball. If she isn’t there ask for Toronto Simmons, he is a very good friend of hers, has been for many years, and can most likely point you in the correct direction.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Brimst-.”
“Please, you may call me Maria, you will be my son-in-law in a few short months. This old woman may not like arranged marriages, but why take it out on you?” She asked, her eyes twinkling.
“Maria it is then. Thank you, really.” He said, lifting her hand to his lips for a brief moment before leaving to head for the basketball court he had passed on his way here.


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“Seria, I don’t know where you got your moves but I want ‘em!” Toronto said, grinning. Seria had just slam dunked the ball again and they were taking a short break to drink some water.
“Oh please, Toro! You could never beat me, with or without my moves.” She said, grinning at him and punching him playfully in the shoulder. Toronto knew she was only joking, they were evenly matched and they both knew it.
Laughing and grabbing her he had her in a headlock before she knew what he was doing. “Oh I couldn’t? And what makes you so sure about that, huh?”
“The fact that you couldn’t beat me when we were seven!” She said, her voice muffled by his arm. Throwing and arm down she grabbed his ankle and yanked, causing them both to fall on their butts laughing.
“Hey, I take offense to that!” He said, laughing and helping her stand.
“Good!” She shouted as she sprinted away with the basketball under her arm. Running quickly around the court, ducking around and past Toro to make another ringer shot.
“Hello, do either of you know where I can find Miseria Brimstone?” A familiar voice asked from behind Seria. Turning she was once again faced with Tristan the Elusive. Grinning she raised an eyebrow.
“Tristan. Did you say you were looking for Miseria Brimstone?” She asked, her voice amused.
“Guess Girl? Yes, either Miseria or a young man named Toronto?” He asked, smiling down at her, his grey blue eyes full of laughter.
“Well, first off, this fellow behind me making weird faces, is Toronto.” She said, grinning when she heard Toro curse. “And, second, I am Miseria Brimstone, but I guess you can call me Seria. Seeing as you never did guess my name right.”
“You’re Mis-, Seria Brimstone?” He asked, his eyes going wide and his mouth hanging open. You’d think I’m some sort of leaper, she thought to herself.
“Yes, and You’re Tristan the Elusive.” She said, one side of her mouth twitching upward with amusement.
“I think we might need to have a little talk, Seria.” He said, his jaw clenched. “I’ll drive you home.”
“Ok….” Tossing the ball to Toro she turned and lifted her duffel back. Following him across the court she paused when she saw is gleaming, silver Porsche. She knew it was his because he was standing by the passenger side door, holding it open for her.


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Tristan couldn’t believe that his Mystery Girl was his bride to be. While he was definitely attracted to her, he didn’t want her to be his bride. This only meant that she would grow to hate him. He knew as much already from her personality that she liked to be in control and an arranged marriage definitely wasn’t in her control.
All he could think of as he drove back to her house was what her reaction to the news would be. So far, he didn’t like the possibilities.
“Ok, so what is it you wanted to talk about?” She asked, her face curious. “Take this right.”
“I know, I just came from your house. What I wanted to talk about was you.” Taking a sharp right he parked in her drive way behind a black limo and turned to face her. “I wanted to say that please, no matter what your first feelings are toward me after this. Please, give me a chance before you decide to hate me.”
“Ok? So, what’s with the limo?” She said, raising an eyebrow.
Before she could move he was kissing her. Surprised, all she could do was sit, stunned. A moment later she was kissing him back, her arms wrapped around his neck.
“Come on, we should go in.” He mumbled, pulling away and opening his door. While she unbuckled her seatbelt and lifted her bag he walked around the car and opened her door.
When they walked through the front door she wasn’t surprised to see two well dressed adults sitting on the couch. She was however, surprised by the warm smile from the woman and the piercing scrutiny from the tall, light haired man.
“Mamma, sono a casa!“ She called toward the kitchen, dumping her bag on the floor she dropped into one of the chairs. Ignoring the smiling woman in the red dress she returned the mans scrutinizing glare.
“You are the great Donovan Machio.” She stated flatly, staring dismissively at the tall man.
“And you are Miseria Brimstone. Mark’s daughter if my guess is correct.” He said, his voice impassive.
“Sì, esattamente così che cosa vuoi, Machio?” She asked, one slim dark brow raised. She knew he spoke Italian, her father had taught him, she knew because her mother had had to teach her since her father had been so busy with Donovan.
“Miseria Brimstone, vi viene imperdonabilmente scortese. Apologize, ora, signorina.” Seria’s mother said from the doorway. Her voice was stern and disapproving, but understanding shone in her pale brown eyes as she walked over to stand behind Seria’s chair and give her a pleading look.
“Per favore, mi perdoni, ho una lingua molto allentato. Lo tendo a fare i miei sentimenti per qualcuno chiaro fin dall’inizio. Trovo che mi lascia con una situazione meno complicata. Mu scuso per la mia insolenza.” She muttered, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Seria, in English.” Her mother demanded, narrowing her eyes at her daughter when Donovan gave her a confused look. Apparently her father hadn’t taught him very well.
“Please, forgive me, I have a very loose tongue. I tend to make my feelings for someone clear from the start. I find it leaves me in a less messy situation. I apologize for my insolence.” She said, scowling at the big blond man.
“No, you don’t. You are only speaking the words to appease your mother. You do not truly regret your rude words.” He said, a wide smile breaking across his face. “But that is fine, it reminds me of your father. It is a good quality to be so blunt.”
Seria and her mother stared at the blond man as he laughed, completely stunned.
“And to start with, yes, I am Donovan Machio. And this is my lovely wife, Elaine Machio. It seems you have already met my son, Tristan Machio.”
“Wait, you’re the son of the guy I absolutely despise?” She exploded, shooting to her feet, her brown eyes narrowing on Tristan’s grey blue ones.
“U-uh….” His eyes wide, Tristan didn’t seem to be able to let out a coherent answer.
“Despise? May I ask, young lady, why you despise someone you don’t even know?” Donovan asked, raising a blond brow.
“It doesn’t matter. Why are you here and what do you want from us?” She demanded, standing in front of him ignoring her mothers surprised gasp. She was stretched to the max and she felt about to explode out of anticipation.
“Fine, if you must know, I am here because you are to marry my son.” He said, smiling when complete shock crossed Seria’s face.
“Oh, Donovan, you are awful! You should have let the girls mother explain things to her!” The woman in the red dress said, standing and eyeing Seria worriedly. Reaching out she placed a hand on her shoulder and pressed Seria back down into her chair. “Maria, will she be all right? She’s awfully pale.”
“Seria? Miseria, guarda me. Stai bene, bambina?” Maria asked, kneeling in front of Seria, with Elaine Machio hovering close behind.
“L'uomo è il male, io non sposerò il figlio, mamma.” Seria said, her stomach heaving, looking down at her mother with a defiant look on her face.
“Sweetie, you have to. When your father died his will stated that when you were sixteen your were to go to England with Donovan’s son and you two were to get married. Donovan and Mark had agreed on this, Seria. And there are no loop holes, I looked.” Maria said, and with her words Seria’s last hope to escape this fate was crushed while it was still growing.
Complete quiet filled the room as Seria stood, walked up to Tristan and narrowed her eyes at him.
“Avevi ragione a pensare che ti odio per questo. E mi rifiuto di rivedere l’emozione. Hai rovinato tutti I miei piani per la mia vita, e in cambio, sto andando a fare e sposata con me la cosa peggiore che sia mai successo a te.” She whispered in his ear then turned and ran up the stairs with her duffel bag.


CHAPTER THREE


Seria’s words seemed to echo inside Tristan’s head as he was loading her luggage into his car two days later.
“You were right to think I would hate you for this. And I refuse to revise the emotion. You have ruined all my plans for my life, and in return, I am going to make being married to me the worst thing that ever happened to you.”
She couldn’t mean it, he thought, his eyes closing briefly. But then again, she sure had looked convincing. Closing the trunk and walking to the passenger side door of his Porsche, he held the door patiently as she hugged her mother and told her goodbye.
“Seria, we should be going, don’t want to miss our flight.” He said calmly, refusing to flinch under the glare, full of hate and malice, she sent his way.
“Goodbye, Mamma.” She said, slipping into the leather seat. She spared no look at him as he took the drivers seat and started the car.
Driving away from the small, quant house, Tristan was in a slightly better mood. This time next week they would be reclining in the castle his father had bought out of amusement and in no time she would warm up to him, he was sure of it. So why did his heart feel a million times heavier when he saw the pain she tried so hard to cover with biting remarks and withering looks?
An hour later at the airport Tristan hustled Seria to the waiting area and went to check when their flight was leaving. Usually he would just use the family private jet but his parents had went home on it the day before.
As he walked up to the young lady is the blue blazer who was standing behind the information counter he had a flicker of unease when he saw a look of recognition in her eyes.
“Hi, I’m Tristan Machio,” He said, smiling at her and handing her his and Seria’s tickets. “I was just wondering when my flight will be leaving. I’m on the three o’clock flight to England.”
“Oh, no….” She said, her face falling. The look did nothing to settle Tristan’s hyper active nerves at the moment. “I am so sorry, Sir. Your flight was canceled due to technical errors on the plane. The flight was rescheduled for five thirty Monday afternoon, next week.”
“What?” Tristan asked, his eyes bulging. “But, my wedding, is Monday, next week, at five thirty!” He said, his voice rising.
“I’m really sorry, Sir. But there is nothing we can do until the plane has been fixed.” She said calmly enough, her chin raising slightly. Looking down at her gold painted name tag he read her name the took a slow breath.
“Look, Ms. Stevens, you don’t seem to understand. I can’t show up late to my own wedding. It’s rude, uncouth, and utterly embarrassing. There has to be something, anything, that can be done to get me and my bride to England.”
“Sir, I told you, there is nothing that can be done. The only flight heading to England is a supplies plane. Sir, I have to ask you to leave, or I will be forced to call security and have them remove you from the building.” She said, her calm voice making Tristan’s temper flare again.
“Tristan, lets just go. There’s nothing Ms. Stevens can do.” Seria’s calm voice said from behind him. Almost instantly he felt more calm, more under control.
Thanking the young woman he quietly bought two tickets for the Monday flight, turned and led Seria back to their bags, loaded the stuff back in the car and drove to the nearest hotel. When Seria calmly but firmly suggested they stay with her mother he politely declined the notion of invading the woman’s privacy.
“I’m going to go check us in. Wait here, I’ll be right back.” He said, his voice cool and controlled.
“Whatever, just don’t take to long. I bore easily.” She said sarcastically, glaring at him.
With a cold kind of finality Tristan closed the Porsche’s door and walked into the hotel without a backwards glance.


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“I’m going to check us in. Wait here, I’ll be right back.” Seria mimicked, getting out of the car and grabbing her basketball from the back seat of the Porsche.
Who does he think he is, she though as she dribbled the ball and spun it on her finger. Obviously, she thought, he figured that since she had to marry him, that she had to do what he said. Boy is he in for a surprise when he realizes just how strong willed I am, she thought menacingly.
“Seria? Hey, what up, CC?” A familiar and very hated male voice called out from behind her. Turning she found her self nose to chin with the football quarter back from the high school.
“I thought I taught you and your self conceited butt a lesson the last time you called me CC.” She said, remembering with great mirth how she had poured a two liter of mountain dew down the front of his jeans in front of the entire school.
“Well, CC, I guess that method just didn’t work.” Aren Stone said, grinning down at Seria. Aren was a tall guy, plenty of muscle but not to bulky. He had big baby blue eyes and sandy blond hair, and a killer smile, or so the cheer leaders said.
“Do you really want to risk that part of your anatomy by calling me that?” She asked, motioning to where her knee was and how close it was to a very sensitive area. Even Aren had to appreciate her guts at threatening a guy like that.
“Ok, you win. I’ll just call you Ria.” He said, grinning. Scowling she considered smacking his grin off his face but decided her temper had to stay in tack as long as her pride did.
“Go away, Stone, I’m busy.” She said, turning her back to him and proceeding to ignore him while she feigned and dribbled around an invisible opponent.
“Oh come on, Ria, don’t be that way! You know you like me, and, since I’m a nice guy, I’ll guy out with you. All you gotta do, good looking, is say the word.” He said arrogantly from behind her, making her freeze. Clenching her jaw she decided her pride could only take so much.
“Shut it, Stone, or I’ll shut it for you.” She growled, stuffing her ball back into the car and digging around in her bag till she found some money. A drink would do her good, maybe even calm her down a bit.
“Oho, I like that idea. How you gonna shut it, with kisses?” He asked, wagging his eyebrows at her. Dropping her bag she decided betting the idea that she hated him into his thick skulled brain would calm her down even better. She was stopped by a smooth, calm voice from her right.
“Well, I would hope not. After all, that wouldn’t fare well for your face since she’s my fiancée.” Tristan said, raising a golden eyebrow at Aren, smirking defiantly.
“Yeah, you heard the man! I’m his fiancee, now get out of here and stop trying to steal a date before I decide you need a real lesson on how to not be conceited.” Seria warned, grinning evilly, loving the surprised look on both men’s faces.
Aren, narrowing his baby blues at both of them, walked off without about her word. Tristan on the other hand, stood there staring at her as if she had grown a third eye in the last thirty seconds and she didn’t know it.
“Well? Did you get us rooms?” She asked, raising a dark brown brow in question.
“No, they were all full. I was going to ask if you knew of any other hotels in the area.”
“Nope, closest one if in Fairport, and that’s atleast thirty miles from town.”
“Oh.” He said, taking a deep breath and climbing into the car.
Seria followed quietly, considering her idea. “You know, we could stay with-”
“We are not staying with your mother, Miseria.” He said, locking his jaw firmly, not allowing her to finish the thought.
“Not my mother, Einstein,” She said, rolling her eyes. “But we could stay with Toro. His parents are out of state this month and he keeps complaining he’s lonely. I was planning on spending the week with him anyway, I’m pretty sure he’ll have room for us. He has a big house.”
A frowned creased Tristan’s head as he considered this. “Ok, lets go see. How do we get to Toronto’s?” He asked finally, starting the car and backing out of the lot.
“Back the way we came then take a right, when you pass Darrel Street take a left to Brentwood Street. It’s the third house on the right.” She explained, leaning back to enjoy the ride.


"And I'd give up forever to touch you
Cause I know that you feel me somehow
You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be
And I don't want to go home right now

And all I can taste is this moment
And all I can breathe is your life
Cause sooner or later it's over
I just don't want to miss you tonight."


As the Goo goo doll's famous song Iris blared out of her Ipod, Seria began unpacking her bags. After a long argument between Tristan and Toro, she had been bunked with Tristan because of Toro having other guests as well. Sadly, Tristan was the one who pushed for seperate rooms, so she was stuck in the same room with a grumpy fiance.
A loud banging in the hallway was accompanied by the sound of cheerful laughter from some teenage girls who had the room across the hall from her and Tristan. From what she could hear of their conversation, Toro was starting up a big party down stairs.
Pulling a pair of skin tight, worn, light blue jeans that hug low on her hips, with rips and tears on the legs and a long sleeved off the shoulder black, clingy wool sweater, thats bottom stopped midabdomen to show off her olive toned middle. After showering and changing she pulled her long brown hair half back with a silver cresent clasp and slipping big silver hoop earrings in her ears. Smiling she popped in a dangly chain belly ring with a small silver cresent moon at the end.
Putting on a dab of make up that equaled mascara, eyeliner, foundation. Not bothering with shoes or socks she walked out of the room down the stairs, into the modern living room full of teenagers, blaring music, drinks, food, and ran smack dab into Tristans chest.
"My Lord, Seria, what are you-" His words were cut off abruptly as he looked down at her outfit. "Seria, what in God's name are you wearing!"
"Jeans, a sweater, and some party jewelry and make up. Now, I'ma go find Toro and grab a drink. See ya, Tristan." She said dismissivly, walking away before he could reacted. Snatching up a drink from a near by table she melted into the dancing crowd and began to move slowly to the Cajun beat of the music. She was only mildly surprised to feel the warmth of male arms wrapping around her and turning her around so that she was facing someone. Grinning she recognized Toro and they finished the dance together in companionable silence.
After the song ended she felt a tight grasp on her arm as Tristan grabbed her and yanked her up the stairs. Having finished off her drink of 'doctored' soda she was slightly tipsy and giggly so didn't mind, and, when their bodies came in contact on the steps she pressed closer, enjoying the feel of him against her.


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“Seria…Seria, please, you need to stop.” Tristan said shakily, pulling her up the stairs and she nibbled on his ear. “Seria! Seria, it’s me, Tristan, the guy you hate!”
“Mhm…you talk too much….” Mumbling the worlds softly she stopped his accent upstairs and pulled him to the dance floor as the DJ put on Sean Kingston’s - Lonely “Dance with me, Prince….”
Stepping closer to get his arm around her so he could get her upstairs he was unprepared when she dragged him deeper into the throng of people to dance slow and smooth.
Closing his eyes he savored the feel of her body to his, her arms around his neck, his name on her lips. He knew it wouldn’t last, but he could still enjoy it while it did, couldn’t he? No one could blame him if he did, if he pulled her closer, into his arms finally, and kissed her the way she wanted to be kissed. If her carried her to their room and made long slow, lazy love to her all night long. If her told her that he was in love with her, that he needed her to love him too. But she never would, and she would hate him in the morning. So he wouldn’t….
But all the reasoning in the world left him helpless as she turned in her arms and pressed closer, nuzzling his neck with her cute little nose and dancing slowly in bare feet and a cute little belly ring.
Holding her closer with her arms around her he bent and scooped her up, one arm around her waist the other under her knees and carried her up stair, pressing his lips to her temple, smiling softly when she sighed his name. He knew he would regret it, but he had to at least taste her. But there was no possibility of kissing her if they were down there.
Walking into their bedroom he took her to his bed and laid her down, closing the door quietly before returning to her side and kneeling on the floor. Watching her watch him he realized that her emotions were perfectly clear to him now, no steel wall blacking them or holding them back.
“Tristan…what’s love?” She asked softly, rolling onto her side and letting her hair down, watching him still.
“Well, I guess it’s where you care so deeply for someone that you would do anything for them. That your happy when they are, and your there when they need you, or need to be loved.” He whispered, unsure of his answer, but knowing what he felt for her.
“Then I’m right. My father didn’t love me, or my mother. At least not long term for my mother.” She said sadly, her eyes filling with tears. “Why didn’t he love us? I mean, I’m not so bad, am I? I always thought I was kinda cool….” She mumbled.
“Maybe he did love you and your mother, just, in a different way. Maybe not the way of a lover and father. But instead, maybe in the way of a friend or passerby? My father talked often of your father, he said your father had a bugs capacity to love, he just directed it on material objects more than people. He didn’t mean to, my father used to say, it was just easier, and objects can’t offer rejection, which your father was afraid of.”
“I wouldn’t have rejected him…” She said softly, tears spilling over and streaking down smooth flawless cheeks in rivulets of pain and sadness. “ I would have loved him, even if he couldn’t love me. I only wanted a father. Someone to teach me to play ball, ride a bike, be there on my birthday, take me to the doctor after my first broken bone, etc. But I didn’t have one. He was never there, not even for Christmas….” Closing her eyes she began to sob softly, leaning on Tristan.
Closing his eyes he rubbed her arms and back comfortingly, trying to calm her enough to get her to sleep. If he didn’t do that soon he was likely to forget that she hated him more than anyone right now, and would despise him if he touched her in anything other than passive friendship.
“Shh…, it’s okay, Seria. I promise you, once you are my bride I will love you, you will never be rejected again….” He murmured into her soft hair. “I’m in love with you, My Little Gypsy Princess.”
Ignoring the warning bells in his head he bent and cupped her face in his palm, pressing his lips to hers softly, kissing her long and slow, savoring the taste, texture, and feel of her, for he knew she wouldn’t want him when they married. And he would never force her, because that would only hurt her, and the love he was sure he could nurture within her heart for him, given the chance. Slipping away he covered her and turned out the light, removing his clothes and shoes he climbed into her bed and slept, mumbling her name repeatedly through the night.


Chapter Four


Seria woke slowly, reluctant to leave the cocoon of warmth that enveloped her, to jolst the strong arms that seemed to want to sheild her from everything. As her eyes fluttered open slowly and she yawned she realized that the warmth was the very male pressed against her, and the arms were Tristan's.
Bolting out of the bed and rounding on him she realized she'd not woken him but he was now frowning and reaching for something. Her, she realized a moment later. Watching she glared angrily, cursing him in her mind over and over again. Who did this guy think he was, climbing into her bed and....
And holding you all night while you cried your eyes out and told him things you've never told your own mother,she thought to herself, her memory of last night flooding back in a rush. Gasping she turned and darted into the bathroom and locked the door, quickly undressing and flipping on the shower. What had she been thinking, opening up to him, of all people! Sure he had been sweet and caring, and gentle, and understanding, and lovin-, wait no, what was she thinking? Of course he wasn't loving! He was merely being curtious. Sighing she turned on the bathrooms radio and Gotye began playing as she stepped into the shower.

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Tristan sat on the end of the bed with the covers tangled with his lower body and his head in his hands. What had he done? The kiss had been amazing, and he could never regret it, but now that he had woken with the bed empty and her scent lingering on the pillows and in the room and on him, he knew it had been a mistake. A wonderful, tasty, delightful and amazing mistake, but still a mistake.
Cussing under his breath he stood and let the covers fall away, walking to his side of the room and selecting a pair of black jeans and pulling them on and finding a white tshirt to pull on as well. It wasn't his usual style but it would do for now.
"You know, most people would tell you to brush your hair, but I have to admit, it looks good ruffled."
Jumping in surprise Tristan spun around at the sound of Seria's beautiful voice behind him. She stood in the bathroom doorway wrapped in a large fluffy looking green towel with her hair still fluffed from her blow dryer and her eyes appreciative on his face and body.
"Thanks? I think." He replied, a small uncertain smile lifting the edges of his lips. Whatever was going one here, weither he was still dreaming or not, he didn't want to know.
"You thought right. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to dress now." Seria said, her eyes avoiding his. Stepping forward and laying a hand on her shoulder he leaned down and kissed her cheek as he slipped into the bathroom and shut the door.
Smiling to himself he brushed his teeth and shaved before realizing he'd forgotten he needed to shower. Cursing her stripped and stepped into the shower, flipping on the water and looking around for some shampoo.
Twenty minutes later he emerged from the bathroom, showered, shaved, dressed, and smiling.

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Seria watched Tristan thoughtfully as he returned. He was smiling and looked like he'd showered and shaved. When he saw her he froze and she waited in confusion as he stared at her. Turning to look in the mirror the looked herself over.
The black tshirt was form fitting and decorated with a big red kiss acrost her chest and her tight black skinny jeans faithfully hugged he curve of her bottom and her long legs, and were blocked off by the black combat boots she wore. Her hair was pulled over her shoulders in pigtails and her make up was matchy and simple with only red lip gloss and nude colored eyeshadow tipped in black. All in all she couldn't find anything inappropriate in her look.
"What? Is there something in my teeth?" She asked, frowning at him.
"No, it's nothing. You look fine, incredible in fact." He replied, stepping forward and kissing her full on the lips. SHocked she could only stand there at first, then her hands were on his chest and his arms were around her and the kiss got hotter.
"Yo, you guys up? Time to chow!" A voice suddenly yelled through the door, making them jump apart guiltily.
Pretending to be preoccupied with fixing her lip gloss she let Tristan handle it the slipped down stairs, promising herself it was just a little of last night hanging around that was all. No way his kiss was that good, it was just a fluke. Just like the first one. Yeah that was it, a fluke!
Closing her eyes she breathed deep then went to get breakfast.

Impressum

Texte: Written by: Eternity RainCover pic by: Unknown
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 01.03.2011

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Dedicated to my bestfriend, and the one who got me out of the wreck my life was. You'll find your man, Katie, not ALL men are stupid ;)