19: Can't sleep

**Tristan**

I felt the warmth of the mug in my hands radiate through my hands and go right to my chest. I never really had a problem with the cold, but my legs had begun to pain, and my nose had started to leak, and so I appreciated the cup of cocoa I was now sipping in the sitting room of London’s. She gazed at me with a smile.

"So, it's true then, you are my brother's mate?" She asked. I assumed that my presence here had confirmed this for her, and so I nodded.

"He's an awful sleeper, snores all the time, so I can understand why you would be awake so late. You could spend the night here if it really bothers you." She offered gently.

I shook my head, however, and said, "That's quite alright. I can manage."

She laughed in response, and then took a sip of her own cocoa. It was then that a young woman soon appeared at the entryway of the sitting room. She had short blonde hair and heavy bags under her eyes which, when they met mine, stared in confusion.

"Who's this?" She asked.

London looked up at her and smiled, "Tristan Creed. Remember I told you about her?"

The woman's face fell into a look of curiosity and delight. "Tristan? *The* Tristan Creed?"

"Am I famous?" I asked, now a little nervous.

London nodded her head and said, "Anyone who dates one of the two Michaels brothers is going to *have* to be famous. By the way, this is my mate and wife, Amber."

Amber smiled and held a hand out for me to shake. I gripped it and gave it a firm tug before releasing it.

"Wow, you have a strong handshake... and an interesting scent."

"Yes, I've been meaning to ask, why do you smell so different Tristan?"

My eyes widened at the question and immediately, my mind began concocting up the most appropriate lies possible. "Well... you see it's-"

And then my eye caught sight of a picture hanging on the wall, further in the corner of the room. On the photograph- quite blurry, I had to say- were three figures.

"Is that Lucien?" I asked. I had about a fifty percent chance that this topic change would work. Luckily for me, the odds were in my favour, and London smiled brightly before getting up and taking the photograph down. She then neared me and handed it to me. Again, the photograph was of awful quality, but here and there you could make out the features of the three Michaels siblings. And as I stared down at them, I began to notice something rather odd between the three.

"None of you look the same. I mean there are similar features, but apart you do not look alike at all." I said.

London nodded and then took the picture back, glancing over the three teenagers herself. "Well, that's because all three of us have different mothers. We only share a father."

My eyes widened at this. I hadn't been very well informed of the Michaels family. All I knew was what my father and Oliver told me and so my knowledge of the family was extremely limited.

"Damon's mother was our father's true mate. Lucien's mother and mine were... just pieces in his game for power. He killed them when we were born so Lucien and I have only ever known Rose, Damon's mother. She died though."

When she spoke, her breath hitched, and her speech grew soft and shaky. Amber, her mate, sat next to her and placed her hand on London's in an effort to calm her down.

I, myself, grew silent. I had no idea that this was what Lucien lived with. Having no mother, I couldn't say I didn't understand.

"What about your father?" I asked.

London looked up at me, tears rimming her lids, "Dead."

I could feel a lump grow in my throat, something I hadn't felt in years, and although I tried swallowing it, I couldn't. And so, it led me to blurting out something I wished I hadn't.

"My father and mother died too."

When it left my mouth, both Amber and London looked up at me, startled and then in pity. I hated that look- pity. It made me feel... broken and damaged. But worst of all, it made me feel like I had lost something.

"Tristan I-"

"It was a long time ago. So, I don't remember much of them." I said.

It was then that I felt Tristan's hand touch at mine, and I almost instinctively pulled my hand away. Then, I felt its warmth and looked up into her sincere, dark eyes and thought that perhaps it would be best to keep her hand right where it was. We stayed like that for a moment, and I felt more... comfortable and relaxed. Even the lump in my throat had slowly started to disappear, and when I removed my hand from under hers, she smiled at me, wiped her tears and clapped her hands together.

"So, what's it like being mated to the most narcissistic man in the whole wide world?" She asked.

I raised a brow and sighed before saying, "Honestly? It's quite tiring."

"I'm sure it is. Is there any room for you between himself and his inflated ego?" Amber asked. London smacked her on the shoulder teasingly.

"He's an asshole, yes, but deep down, he's not so bad." London said.

And for once, I suppose I believed that statement. After all, Lucien had done nothing to harm me. In fact, he'd treated me with the utmost care despite his clear dislike towards me... well, my personality, to be exact.

"I guess he is," I muttered absently.

"I think you'll be good for him," London said. Immediately when she said that my startled eyes met hers. *Good for him?* I was the worst possible thing that could ever have happened to the poor soul. Nonetheless, I found myself curious at her statement.

"How so?" I questioned.

London smiled and then said, "I don't know. You just seem... perfect for someone like him."

"Perfect? I hardly think so."

"But I know so. There's just something about you, I can't put my finger on it, that seems to suggest that you and Lucien may get along better than you think. After all, you are prancing around in his clothes, so clearly there is already something physical connecting you two. It's only a matter of time before it grows deeper, into something more emotional and intellectual."

I highly doubted that, at least, I wouldn't be the one forming an attachment. I hoped, however, that what London had said would come true for Lucien. That he'd develop a strong emotional connection towards me. If there was one thing I'd learnt over the past few years as an individual severely lacking any sort of emotional capacity, it was that emotions dictated the actions of most. It was, perhaps, the most self-destructive weapon in the world.

"Now, why don't we get you back to Lucien? It's so cold out so I'm sure the one thing on your mind now is the warmth of a bed."

London wasn't wrong and so I agreed, craving the warmth Lucien's sheets promised. When I arrived, however, I was surprised to find Lucien actually snoring, as London had said. They weren't loud snores, but rather soft and subtle. I moved closer towards him, in a sense of childish curiosity and knelt next to the sofa he was sleeping soundly. Asleep, Lucien didn't seem half so seductive. Instead, he looked quite... normal. A handsome face against the sofa cushion.

His lips were slightly parted, allowing his soft snores to escape, and when my eyes rested on them, I couldn't help but lift my finger and then gently trace them against the skin of his bottom lip. Part of me wanted to know what it would feel like to press my lips against his. Another part knew that kissing Lucien was just asking for trouble.

"Shouldn't you be sleeping?" Lucien muttered. I was so distracted by his lips, that I'd failed to hear his snoring stop. I was startled, to say the least, even more so when his hand gripped around my wrist and he tugged at me swiftly, bringing my body close to his.

"Lucien!" I yelled out. But as I did, he flipped us around so that I was now between the couch and him. I couldn't move.

"You're freezing. What the hell were you doing outside." He whispered warmly against my ear. I felt my face heat up and my body begin to relax under his touch. He didn't seem suspicious of my absence. Instead, he seemed rather annoyed.

"Couldn't sleep," I uttered softly.

"Well now you have no choice, Love." He growled lowly and squeezed my body closer to his. I could feel the heat between our bodies build and the electricity against our skin was unimaginable. I doubted I'd be getting much sleep at all.