Salt Kiss – Episode 13
Tristan approached his second night at the Lyonesse as a mission. He changed from military dress into the dark uniform Mark had chosen, checked his weapon, and reviewed the club’s exits until every route existed clearly in his mind.
The fitted clothes drew glances he tried to ignore. Mark noticed them too. A single look from the owner reminded the room that Tristan remained off-limits, and the attention retreated without argument.
“You don’t have to keep doing that,” Tristan muttered.
“Doing what?” Mark asked.
“Warning everyone away as if I’m your property.”
Mark adjusted Tristan’s earpiece, his fingers lingering near the sensitive skin below his ear. “Would you prefer another misunderstanding?”
Tristan’s breath caught. “I can protect myself.”
“I know.” Mark stepped back. “The rule protects them from you as much as it protects you from them.”
The answer almost made Tristan laugh. Before he could respond, movement near a restricted door caught his attention. A guest had slipped away from the public floor and was testing an employee entrance.
Tristan intercepted him with practiced ease. He blocked the corridor, requested identification, and refused to be distracted by outrage or claims of influence. Powerful clients expected exceptions; soldiers survived by recognizing when exceptions became vulnerabilities.
Mark arrived as the man threatened to have them both ruined. Rather than placate him, Mark revoked his access for the night. “My guard gave you an instruction. You will respect it.”
The guest left furious but compliant. Tristan watched him go, alert for retaliation.
“You backed me in front of a client,” he said.
“You were right.” Mark seemed puzzled that the decision required explanation. “Authority fails when it is undermined.”
The words struck close to old wounds. Tristan had served under men who demanded loyalty while treating those beneath them as disposable. Mark’s support made him feel seen as competent rather than merely useful.
Later, while they reviewed the incident, Mark stood behind Tristan to examine a security image. The nearness was unnecessary, but Tristan did not move away. Warmth gathered along his back where their bodies almost touched.
“Your heart is racing again,” Mark observed softly.
Tristan turned, leaving only inches between them. “Maybe I’m still deciding whether you’re a threat.” Mark’s eyes dropped briefly to his mouth, and Tristan understood that the greater danger was how badly he wanted the answer to be yes.