Seven years ago, Tristan Knight walked away from the love of his life, Serenity Harris, without a word or a backwards glance. No goodbye. No Dear John letter. No words of apologies or excuses. She'd woken up one morning to an empty bed, her body sor...
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Someone is going to die today...
Tristan Knight downed his fifth glass of bourbon that day, slammed the glass on the table, and glared at the fancy invitation in front of him. His jaw set and tightened as he gripped the slippery glass with his left hand. He was twirling the .45 caliber on the table next to him in slow, deliberate circles with his right. His vision was blurry; his breathing shallow and labored. He'd read the invitation over twenty times but now he couldn't make any of the letters out. All he saw was red. All he felt was rage. Rage that was so strong it would've scared the shit out of him if he wasn't so pissed off. He'd been this angry before and it was not good. Not good for him and definitely not good for anyone in his crosshairs.
He sucked his teeth then bit his lip hard as he read the invitation again. Getting married. His Serenity was getting married. To his best friend. To his band-mate. The man he had known since childhood. WHAT.THE.FUCK? When he'd left town seven years ago, he hadn't told Nyle to hook up with her. He sure as hell hadn't told him to fall in love with her and marry her.
He felt like he was drowning, like he would pass out at any moment. But he had to stay calm. Hold his head together. He was on a mission. He didn't give a fuck who suffered or who got hurt. This was not supposed to happen. This.Was.Not.Supposed.To.Happen.
Tristan stared blindly at the professional photo of his beauty on the cover of the invitation. He read the lettering below and felt tears sting his eyes. His heart felt like it was ripping in half. He was afraid if he stood up he'd pass out or keel over from a heart attack. He needed to stay alive long enough to exact his revenge.
The invitation hadn't been sent to him. It had been sent to his mother. His mother was still close to her, still talked to her. He was only able to stay away as long as he had because his mother kept him informed on how she was doing. His mother, bless her heart, had left this part out. In seven years she hadn't so much as mentioned once that Serenity and Nyle had fallen in love and started a relationship. He'd been so angry with his mother he couldn't see straight and he'd let her know it. She couldn't give him a full explanation or excuse as to why she hadn't told him; only that she was protecting him and Serenity by keeping it a secret. Tristan thought that was bullshit but he respected his mother too much to say so out loud.
He was sure it wasn't her intention to leave the invitation out where he could see it. Or maybe she had. Her mother said the worst mistake he'd ever made was walking away from Serenity. She'd called him a fool. A selfish man like his father had been. Perhaps he was. But he didn't deserve what was happening to him now. He didn't deserve this. And Nyle didn't deserve her.
He didn't know how to touch her like Tristan did. How to kiss her. How to caress her. How to make her come. He'd branded her. From the moment they'd met she'd been his. He'd made her come two hours after meeting her, just from kissing her agonizingly slow and caressing her breasts beneath her tank top and black lace bra. An hour later, she was coming repeatedly from him putting his mouth between her thick, sexy legs and tasting her addictive sweetness with mad urgency. He'd been like an animal starved on her flesh. She tasted so good it was hard for him to stop or slow down. An hour later, she was screaming and coming again, as he slammed his body in and out of her, taking her virginity, her innocence, and her heart in one sitting.
He was hers from the moment he'd first entered her and felt her wetness. She had been a virgin. She was so warm for him. And tight. She was his and would always be his. And there was nothing Nyle could do to change that.
Tristan closed his eyes and allowed his mind to escape for a few agonizing minutes. His mind swarmed with images of the brief year they'd spent together.
Their courtship was unnaturally rapid. Everything had happened so fast. He met her, he liked her, she liked him, they chatted, or rather flirted briefly, and it was Stage 4 insanity from there. His love and attraction for her was unlike anything he had ever known. It was wild. It was visceral. It was primal and animal-like. And it had scared the shit out of him. No one had ever had control over him like that. Control over his heart. He hadn't liked it. He hadn't known what to do with it, how to take care of it, or nurture and grow it.
That's why it took him a year to say I love you. That's why he'd never officially given what they had a title. That's why he'd repeatedly cheated on her. That's why he'd left.
But this. This wasn't supposed to happen. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!
Back in the day, Nyle had been his best friend. His brother. He'd trusted him. Trusted him with his life. He was the only one who knew how Tristan truly felt about her. Now he'd gone and done this. If he thought he was going to spend happily ever after with His Serenity he had another thought coming.
Tristan looked down in shock at the shattered glass around him on the table and floor. Blood formed in a pool on the top of his hand. Lost in his uncontrollable rage, he'd slammed the glass repeatedly on the table and broken it, all the while continuing to circle the gun on the other table with his uninjured hand, this time at a faster pace.
The glass and the blood only distracted him for a second. He needed to get back to the matter at hand. He needed to stop this fuckin' wedding. Come hell or high water this wedding was not going to happen. His love was not going to marry that man. She would never belong to him. Ever.
