Page 88 of Lightning Angel

“Angel and Knight,” Tristan repeated and brought his lips to her forehead. But just as his lips brushed her skin, he jerked back, pushing himself out of their embrace and backing away from her.

“Tristan?” Alexa gaped at him, confused. Before she could voice her question, she saw the answer with her own eyes.

Tristan squeezed his eyes shut, his face twisting in pain. He clenched his hands into fists, every muscle in his body tense, and every vein bulging.

Thunder clapped in the skies.

Horror gripped her soul like never before.

“No, Tristan!” She lunged forward to his side, but he snapped open his eyes in agony and horror, and backed away further.

“No, Alexa, stay back,” he pleaded in a strained voice. “Please, don’t touch me.” He slumped into the lounge behind him, exhaustion falling over him and sweat beads forming on his forehead. He glanced at her ruefully and moaned. “I’m so sorry you have to see this. Oh, Alexa, you shouldn’t have come.”

Alexa narrowed her eyes in disbelief. Howcouldhe say that to her after what they shared just a moment ago? “No lightning can stop me from coming to you,” shequoted back his words. “So, definitely notyou,Tristan.”

A grateful glint flickered in his eyes just before he snapped them shut, his face contorted in pain. Alexa felt like someone was trying to pluck her heart from the veins. Helpless tears crammed her eyes and rolled down her cheeks before she could stop them.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Albert rushing into the room. She turned to him and saw him staring at his son with devastated eyes. He slowly turned his eyes to her and they softened.

So he knew; he knew that Tristan told her everything.

“Alexa dear, maybe you should leave now,” he said softly, watching the tears trickling down her cheeks.

“I’m not leaving him,” she protested defiantly, turning back to Tristan. He opened his eyes, and somehow amid his pain, he was looking at her with warmth, love, and adoration again.

“You should—”

“No, I won’t!” Alexa cut him off firmly.

“You have work.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Itdidmatter, but Tristan mattered the most. She couldn’t just leave him like this.

“Angel, listen to me,” he said in a strained, weary voice. “Thisis me; it’s always going to be like this with me. Please know that I am alright despite this. If you want to know me more, this is going to be a part of it.”

That struck her. His words sank into her, and she realized crying wouldn’t help either of them. She had to be helpful, but how?

She wiped her tears away and sniffed to contain herself. “You’re right,” she agreed, but her heart kept twisting inside. “But there has to be something I can dorather than standing by and watching you in pain.”

Tristan gasped in pain, followed by another thunderclap. “Distract me,” he rasped. “You can distract me.”

Alexa looked around the room frantically and her eyes fell on the piano and the guitar in the corner. An idea sparked in her mind. She walked over to the piano past him and dragged out a stool, sitting on it.

She brainstormed for a suitable song. Realizing that she didn’t know his favorites yet, she made a mental note to ask him later. Every song that came to her mind was romantic, as romance was her most-listened genre.

Tristan needed distraction. She didn’t have time to search for asuitablesong.

Her fingers hovered over the keys and she began playing the first melody that came to her. It was one of her favorites, and she began to sing, hoping her voice would be enough tosirenhim from the excruciating pain. She closed her eyes and let the song take over her. A whirlwind of emotions stirred in her when she reached the chorus.

“‘Cause you’ll be safe in these arms of mine

Just call my name on the edge of the night

And I’ll run to you… I’ll run to you…”

The thunderstorm continued outside, but Tristan had stopped gasping and groaning. Alexa could feel his eyes on her, watching her every move, perhaps even smiling amid his pain.

As she launched into the second stanza, a fierce realization hit her. This song, one that she listened to whenever she craved comfort or was left with yearning after reading a good romance, said every bit about whoTristan was to her. Unlike a dozen other times, now, singing these lines felt like they belonged to him, that they werehiswords toher.