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What have I done?

I’d destroyed Dylan’s faith in me, revealed Tristan’s existence—made a real fool of myself. I glanced at the photograph of my family.

What would my parents think? How disappointed would they be in me if they knew?

Drugs! Drugs!

“Hey, hey, Emily. Please. Don’t cry.”

“What have I done? What have I done? What would my parents think,” I wailed. “And Dylan. Oh shit! I outed you to Dylan. Shit. Shit. Shit.”

“Beauchamp!” Tristan sounded shocked.

I sobbed into my pillow.

What have I done? What have I done? What have I done?

“Emily.” The anguish in his voice was hard to take. “Baby, please. Don’t cry.”

I opened my eyes at the endearment to find him crouched on the floor beside me, his eyes level with mine, searching my face.

“Please. Don’t cry,” he implored once more. “I can’t hold you here when you cry, and I want to, so much. You don’t understand what you mean to me. I was nothing until you arrived here. Nothing. Less than a shadow,” he whispered. “When my afterlife began, I was angry and frightened, and all those negative feelings were magnified at first. They kept me bright and present and angry. But over time, I drifted further and further away from my real life. I was detached and distant. And sadder and sadder. My search for answers about what had happened to me was fruitless. I just faded. Faded to almost nothing.” He didn’t take his eyes off mine.

“And then he appeared. He’d gotten rid of all the dossers who lived here and slowly started fixing this place up. But it was him and only him, and he’s so closed off.” He shut his eyes and shuddered. “Closed off for God knows what reasons, that I almost ceased to be. I was a shade in the truest sense of that word.” Green eyes burned into mine, and his face softened. “And then you arrived. You. You beautiful, sad, sad girl. And slowly, slowly, I started to feel. Your life force is so strong, Emily, so bright. I bathed in your light and got stronger and stronger until you could see me. I’m here because of you. You shine like the sun. You’re a beacon in all this misery. An angel. My angel. And now I’m stronger and able and here because of you.”

Angel! Tears trickled down my face. It was my mother’s sweet epithet for me.

“You matter to me, Emily, more than you can ever know or ever appreciate. I’m resurrected because of you.”

Wow!

Sniffling, I tried to absorb what he’d told me and what it meant, but it was too hard to wrap my head around. I was too tired, too heartsore, and too confused.

“That’s why whatever happens to you is everything to do with me. I know it’s selfish. But that’s how I feel.” He rose from the floor, walked around the bed, and lay down once more beside me.

“Lie still and go to sleep. I’ll hum you a lullaby.”

What?

He smiled, boyish and embarrassed at once. “You’re tired. You need to sleep. And I want to hold you. Close your eyes.”

And in that moment, I wanted nothing more than to be in his arms. I did as I was bidden, and he began to sing.

Tristan pulls me into his embrace and buries his face in my hair. “You beautiful, sad, silly, silly girl,” he murmurs and wraps his arms around me. We stand as one in the mist as it consumes and conceals us in this strange, strange place of my dreams and his… reality? His Land of Ghosts.

Slowly, I fold my arms around him and breathe in his precious, calming scent. Moments, minutes… hours later, I don’t know, he breaks the silence. “Don’t be sad,” he says and plants a soft, sweet kiss on my forehead.

I press my nose and lips to his chest, inhale his sweet, sweet scent, and hum my approval. He smells so damn good. I raise my face to his, and his green eyes darken as he cups my face with both his hands and presses gentle, featherlight kisses at the corners of my mouth.

“I’m here. I’ll never go,” he whispers and kisses me between each word.

“Tristan.” His name is a whispered prayer on my lips.

He groans and grasps the hair at the nape of my head, pulls me tighter to him, and kisses me again, hard, his lips molding mine. Blood surges hot and heavy through my veins, and a low moan escapes my throat. His tongue traces my bottom lip, and he sucks it into his mouth, holding it gently between his teeth.

“Emily, you jewel, you dazzle me,” he breathes. His words enflame me further, and I strain against him, feeling all of him against me.

I knot my fingers in his hair and welcome his tongue into my mouth. He tastes so, so sweet. “Please,” I whisper when I surface for air, but I don’t know what I’m asking for.