“I should be thanking you, Tristan,” she said. “You saved our lives. We wouldn’t be here if not for you. I suppose…” She bit her lip. “I suppose we should talk later—about Jason.”
A heavy blanket of silence descended over the room.
“I’d like that,” he replied.
Ariadne’s lips twitched. Without another word, she turned and exited the living room, leaving Tristan and Lyla standing by one of the chairs.
“So,” she said, breaking the awkward silence, “it’s finally over.”
He blinked. “What?”
“Everything. No more running. No more fighting. It’s all over.”
He nodded, a smile forming at the corners of his mouth. “You could say that.”
More silence passed between them. The fire crackled, spitting tiny tongues of flame onto the stone floor.
“I’m guessing this is it for us, then?” she said, her voice low.
He lifted a brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You and me.” She looked away, unable to meet his gaze. “We’re over, aren’t we?”
In response, he stepped closer, and before she could react, he’d covered her mouth with his in a kiss that threatened to draw the breath from her lungs. By the time he released her, she was weak in the knees.
“How can we be over when we’ve only just begun?” he asked. “You’re not going anywhere. Also…”
Just then, there was a familiarclick!And Lyla felt something cold and metal close around her wrists. She glanced down just in time to see Tristan slap the other handcuff bracelet onto his wrist.
“What are you doing?” she hissed at him. “Those are my handcuffs!”
“You’re stuck with me now.” His eyes twinkled. “And I’ve got a few ideas about what we can do with each other while we’re shackled together.”
She managed to smirk. “Handcuffed, Tristan. Notshackled.”
He groaned. “This is going to be a long Christmas.”
