3 Tria [ 3 ]

A blink. That was all the time it seemingly took to travel all the way to the Underworld. Granted majority of the journey was spent sleeping just to avoid conversation, but the efficiency of his travel method meant that I had absolutely no time to process what was happening. I was still in shock and knew that it didn't really sink in that I was no longer at home.

The snow that covered the ground was thick and piled high. I'd never seen anything like it. It rarely snowed in London, and if it did, it could never compare to what was in front of me.

Werewolves were warm-blooded creatures and so we didn't feel the cold like an average human would, but a chill spiralled down my spine. It may have been because of the weather or the fact that I was more or less at the gates of hell, and there was no going back.

I stared up at his house that seemed more like a palace than just a measly house and that was when it dawned on me. It was his kingdom—the Underworld was his kingdom. My eyes, of their own accord, drifted in his direction and there he was, standing tall and firm, looking every bit of the King people described him as.

It was all so foreign to me that I truly felt like I was kidnapped—thrust into a world that I wasn't quite ready for. I didn't think I'd ever been ready for anything like this.

"Are you cold?" he asked, lightly placing his hand on my back and stepping forward to embrace me from behind.

My back was firmly against his chest, and his warmth practically flowed into me, heating up every inch of my skin as his arms crossed around my midriff. My body betrayed me once more when I leaned my head back against his chest, almost reaching up to touch him with my own hands. I tore myself from his arms and nearly slipped before I regained my balance and lifted a pointed finger shakily in his face.

"Keep your bloody hands to yourself, Alpha." I imagined that my eyes blazed with the anger that I felt, and took another step back to gather my bearings. I could barely think when he touched me and letting my guard down around a monster was dangerous—deadly even.

He didn't seem fazed and stared at me with an intense gaze. "My name is Tristan, αγάπη μου. Let me hear you say it."

The word could barely make it passed my lips. It laid heavy on my tongue, and I knew that I didn't want to say his name. It would make everything personal, and I wanted to distance myself from him as much as possible. I turned back around, trudging through the snow to the entrance. He was light on his feet and followed close behind without a sound.

I was pretty sure that he was checking me out.

I made it as far as the gates when three guards, who were practically as tall as the gates, stepped forward in unison. They weren't armed at all, but I knew their hands were all the weapons they needed. They seemed to back down when their alpha came up behind me, gripping my hand in his. In any other circumstance, I would have taken my hand out of his, but I felt that I needed his protection.

The guards were evidently impeccable hunters since they looked like they picked up on my scent before I even had the chance to move. They too seemed like more beast than man, hounds even.

"Stand down, sentries. She's my mate."

If they were surprised, they certainly didn't show it but nodded their heads and stepped back. I turned to look at him and I could tell that he was taking advantage of the fact that I hadn't pulled away yet. The guards collectively moved to the side with one large stride and pushed the gates open. He led me through them by pulling on my hand, and my eyes widened in awe.

The rumours described his 'abode' if you will, as the embodiment of hell, but it was far from it. In fact, it was beautiful. It may have been winter, but I could tell that in the summer, it was a magical place to be. The sun had yet to set, so the snow had a certain glow to it that also reflected in the water that readily flowed from the marble fountain at the threshold. My fingers reached out to touch the water, and a sense of serenity washed over me as it streamed through my fingers.

The moment was ruined when I turned back to see him watching me in awe. I pulled my hand away from his as the smile dropped from my face. He, like usual, said nothing and tipped his head in the direction of the door.

I followed behind him dejectedly, already missing my own home and pack. I wondered what they would be doing in my absence, and how my mother was feeling knowing that I was gone—taken from her.

It was silent inside the house, and I guessed that he lived alone. The interior was nice, but visibly lacked a woman's touch. Deep reds, blacks and greys decorated the place and there were no picture frames in sight. From the outside looking in, he seemed lonely. I would have felt sympathy if I didn't remember exactly who he was. I told myself he deserved it—he deserved to feel alone.

There wasn't a certain beauty in death yet he took pleasure in it. It was the Underworld.

Standing at the bottom of the stairs that lead to another floor, he stared at me like he always did. I sighed and hugged myself in an attempt to feel warmer. "Why do you stare at me so much?"

He cracked a small smile. "Because you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

I couldn't act indifferent to his compliment. My dark eyes fell from his and I felt the warmth under my skin. He had to be the most remarkably handsome man I'd ever seen, but I would never tell him that because his beauty was tainted. Tainted with the cruelty in his heart.

"I highly doubt that." I bitterly spoke, unable to keep the bite from my tone. I touched the back of the chair softly. I wanted to say more, but I held back as I matched his stare head-on.

There was a slight frown on his face and he narrowed his eyes slightly as if to figure me out. "It's the truth—I don't lie, Kara." Something about the way he said my name sent shivers down my spine—the good kind. "I've never been intrigued by a woman like I am with you."

I hated the way he sounded so enamoured. "It's not like you have a choice. You're attracted to me only because we're...we're..." I couldn't bring myself to say it and backed down from our intense staring match.

He stayed rooted in his place. I thought he finally had nothing left to say until, after a lengthy silence, he spoke. "I had a choice—the one I made is the reason you're here right now. I never thought I'd have to make that choice. I didn't expect it nor have I ever wanted it...until I laid my eyes on you."

That was the end of his candour and he gestured for me to follow him up the stairs. The place seemed far too big for one person with its copious amount of bedrooms and rooms, but he led me to one that, like the living room, lacked a woman's touch.

The bed was king-sized and black silk sheets covered it. It had a canopy, a black one to match the sheets and the throw pillows were a deep red. It seemed to dampen my spirits seeing such dark colours at an abundance, and I turned around to see him standing at the threshold of the door.

"This is your room to decorate. The wardrobe is filled with anything you may need. If you need anything else, my bedroom is next door."

My spirits sank at the news. It was bad enough that I was in the same house as him, but to have his bedroom so closed to mine virtually meant I was sleeping next to the Alpha Tristan—the infamous alpha who was stepped so far in blood that he almost reeked of it. If I tried hard enough, I'd be able to picture the rage-filled beast he became during his kills.

Instead of saying anything more to him, I turned and sunk into the bed, relishing in the softness of it. Annoyingly, even the sheet reminded me of him. Dark and deathly with a soft side. I'd felt as much with the way his hands touched me. He lingered for a few long moments before I heard the sound of a closing door.

I stared after him before I shook myself out of it, getting up to inspect the wardrobe. As he said, it was stocked with more than enough clothes, more clothes than I had back home. As I felt the soft cotton of a sweater, I thought about the fact that I could never call this hell a home. I didn't want to be there, and I certainly didn't want to be with him.

Sighing, I pulled off the dress that I was wearing, folding and placing it on the floor. The sweater was large, practically swallowing my frame and when I brought it to my nose, my heart stilled. It smelled exactly like him. I frantically checked the rest of the clothes and confusion overtook me when I realised that he had left the sweater on purpose.

But for some reason, I couldn't bring myself to take it off. It was warm, which I needed in the cold climate, and incredibly soft. And even though I held a strong dislike for the man next door, his scent drove me crazy, delirious even. His cologne was distinctive and it was like the material retained his body heat.

It felt like he was touching me. At that thought, I pulled the sweater from my body despite my initial reluctance.

"Kara, it slipped my mind to ask—" the door opened and I screamed as I covered my body with his sweater.

I wasn't entirely naked, but I felt a ferocious sense of embarrassment. "There's something called knocking, Tristan!"

The shock on his face was the most expression I'd ever seen from him as he turned around with a speed that made me dizzy. My skin heated as I had no choice but to put his sweater back on. I didn't have enough time to rummage through all the clothes.

"You can turn around now."

He had the decency to look apologetic. But it seemed to last only for a few seconds as something switched in him because he backed up against the door and gripped the doorknob. I stepped towards the bed and covered myself with the covers, feeling my heart race.

No one had ever looked at me in that way, and despite who he was, I couldn't deny that it made me feel beautiful.

"I apologise. I'm not accustomed to knocking." He started out in a low murmur. I could've sworn that the door cracked a little bit when his gaze levelled on mine again. "I wanted to know if you're hungry. I can have something made for you—anything you want."

The first thing I wanted to do was decline, but then my stomach grumbled obnoxiously and I closed my eyes to gather my bearings. "Can you leave burger with a side of I don't like you fries."

He folded his arms across his chest and his gaze sharpened. "You can act like you hate me all you want, but if you truly did, you would've chosen exile instead of choosing me."

I narrowed my eyes, sparked with annoyance. "I didn't choose you. I'm here because I would rather my mother know that I'm at least alive here than have her wondering when I would finally lose my mind in exile."

He stood stiff as a metal rod and whatever desire he looked at me with disappeared from his face. In its place was a blank facial expression that I was sure was more of a shield than anything else.

I didn't know what spurred me to deliver a low blow, but all the stories I'd heard made me wish I wasn't his. "I'll never choose you—for anything. I'm not here for you because I hate you."

A flash of hurt flitted across his face, and the sight of it tugged at my heart. I knew it was the mate pull that made me want to take my words back and even reach out to him. But, as soon as he let his shield crack, he straightened out his shoulders and when he looked at me, his gaze was cold. So cold that I was reminded exactly why he was so feared.

I stood up and dropped the covers from my body. Something inside me twisted with regret and I stepped towards him. Even though I meant what I said, I hated the fact that it wasn't who I really was. I didn't say things to purposely hurt someone, my mother taught me better than that. I was all about nurture and growth.

His intense stare prickled against my skin and before I could get any closer or issue somewhat of an apology, he left the room. It was quick, so quick that I briefly wondered if he just disappeared into thin air.

Sighing, I wedged a hand into my hair, closing my eyes shut. And for a very brief moment, I wanted to go after him. But, the part that hated him triumphed and I stood rooted in my place, staring at the closed door.

I half expected him to tell me that he was finally going to let me go if I hated him so much and that he was going to find another woman to satisfy all his needs.

A bitter taste filled my mouth at the thought of him with another woman. I didn't want to think about it at all. A deep sense of jealousy gripped me by the neck and I forced down the territorial feelings.

He was an exquisitely handsome man, he could get any woman he wanted yet he swore that I was the one he wanted. Without even wanting it, his face flooded my thoughts. For all I tried to not look at him, I certainly had his features memorised.

Silky strands of midnight black hair that looked incredibly soft. I ached to feel them between my fingers. It was short, but a few rebellious strands fell over his forehead, averting my attention to the intensity of his eyes. They couldn't be described as just one colour. Despite its perceived iciness, his eyes, in the short time since I'd met him, sometimes resembled such a dark blue that it seemed more black that held a drop of the ocean in them.

I forced him out of my thoughts when my attention wavered to his lips. He was addicting even when I couldn't stand to be in his vicinity.

Choose, Kara. You either hate the man or not.

I hated the man that the stories portrayed. I hated the beast yet I couldn't bring myself to get to know the man behind the beast—the real Tristan.

And it was then that I decided that I couldn't let myself fall for him or have him mean anything to me. I needed to hate him, for my own sanity—I couldn't fall for the king of death, and I certainly couldn't allow myself to call the Underworld home.

As I closed my eyes, I vowed that for as long as I felt like I was forced to be with him, I would hate him with every breath I took.