CHAPTER 130: LIVE SPECIMENS.

’Why the hell are you so nervous?’ Xanos, his wolf thundered in his mind. ’You were literally on your knees right now, praying that she picked the’ club, and now she did, you are as pale as a frozen chicken.’ He said, not bothering to hide his annoyance.

Tristan blinked away his wolf’s words, focusing on the women before him.

"Are you sure?" He asked, tentatively, his voice and demeanor low as he studied her features carefully. "What if you end up not liking the things you’re going to see there? You haven’t been able to check out that stuff." He added.

"You’re panicking, Trist." She pointed, taking in the worried look on his face. "It’s just a club. I might not like what I’d see there, but I’m very sure I’m going to love whatever you guys choose to do to me. We don’t have to do it like they do there. We just have to do our own thing." She assured, softly, keeping her gaze as neutral as possible.

"Besides, it’s still part of my research." She added.

He held her gaze as he took a deep breath, his tense shoulders easing with relief. "So, you’re sure about this?" He asked with a firmer voice this time.

"Yes, Trist." She said, smiling a bit. "Now, stop asking." She pressed her feet against his rock hard abs, eliciting a deep chuckle from him.

"Stop, that’s ticklish." He muttered, holding her feet in place.

"I can’t. You’re being moody." She pressed, tickling the the middle of his calloused palm as she wiggled her toes.

"But, I’m laughing." He said, finally holding her toes in place.

"That doesn’t justify happiness." She pointed, giving him a look.

"Well, you’re with me, Princess. What could possibly make me sad?" He asked, returning her stare.

Her lips parted to say something, but she shut them, doubting how appropriate and sensible whatever words had piled up in her mind were going to be. Instead she just offered a small smile, showing her resignation.

"Exactly." He said with a cocky grin. "Now, I have the perfect outfit for you. Until then, let’s clean this up and give you a tour of my massive home."

"Damn right." She muttered, making an attempt to pull her feet from his thighs, but he held them down, causing her to give him a confused look. "What is it?" She asked.

"I’m not done massaging them. They are so tense. I must finish first." He explained, giving her a small wink before looking down to her feet.

"While we wait for dusk, I have a few places to show you." He said without looking up at her. "Ever shot a gun before?"

She looked at him like he had grown two heads. "I’m eighteen, Tristan. Never heard your father handed out guns to eighteen year olds." She deadpanned.

He chuckled at her words, letting his head fall back. "I’m sorry. I keep forgetting you’re eighteen. You don’t look or sound like it. It’s not my fault." He defended, chuckling.

She shook her head, scoffing, the corners of her lips rising a bit.

"But would you like to shoot one day?" He asked.

"Mm, yeah. I’d love to know that, and I’d love to know knife and sword arts aswell. Especially knives, they fascinate me a lot."

"Mmmm." He took in her words. "Alright then, what if after now, I take you to a shooting range, maybe I can teach you a few tricks." He said, looking up at her.

Excitement filled her chest, spilling to her eyes faster than she could think. "I’d really love that." She said with a wide grin as her toes curled in his hands.

He mirrored her reaction, his hold on her feet loosening a bit. "If I had known this would have made you this excited, I would have said it earlier." He said, letting go of her feet. He pushed her seat backwards so her stomach wasn’t pressed against the table anymore, gently letting her feet drop to the floor.

"C’mon. Let’s clean up so I can show you your room." He said as he got up from his seat, picking their plates.

"Give them to me, I can wash them quickly." She blurted as she stood up quickly, reaching for the plates, but he lifted them way above her reach, shaking his head.

"No, Princess. I live in a mansion, remember? I can afford a dish washer." He chimed, winking as he moved past her, plates in the air.

"But they are just two dishes, you can’t run the dishwasher for two dishes." She whined.

"What about the pans and spoons and bowls, Princess? You used quite a number of utensils and we have to be quick, if you really want to learn anything at the shooting range today. Time moves faster in that place." He explained, earning a sigh of resignation from her.

"Mmhm." He said. "Now, shoo." He headed to the trash at the corner of the kitchen, emptying the crumbs of food on the plates, and pan, before putting all the dirty utensils in the dishwasher, turning it on.

Turning, his eyes widened at the impeccable view of her ass that was pointed in his direction as she wiped the small table clean.

"Take a picture. It will last longer." She teased, turning around to face him, chuckling when she saw his reddened ears.

"Oh please, I don’t do pictures." He said, walking up to her.

"Liar." She scoffed, placing her hand in his outstretched one.

"I’m serious. I don’t do pictures."

"Yeah, so you wanked to your thoughts when you still slept in a tiny bedroom in your parents home." She said in a bored tone, as she followed his lead around the house, stopping when he stopped before a shiny mahogany door that looked like ever other door on the long hallway.

"That was then, you Minx." He spat, failing to hide the embarrassment in his voice.

"Oh, so now what do you do? You use your imaginations then?" She asked, a cackle threatened to burst through her, but disappeared when he opened the door. What she saw caused her jaws to drop in awe.

"No, Princess. I use live specimens."