Tristan leaned over the bed and scooped up his shorts. A moment later he was dressed. He adjusted the vest before stepped behind her. His face in her hair as he took a deep breath. Trying to breath every cell of her into his memory before he took her to her last class.<br/><br/>He would put her cuffs on so that her hands were in front. He wanted her to walk beside him, with him.  She was his student. His.<br/><br/>Somehow he'd find a way to own her before she was auctioned. He'd have to speak with Lady Shaw. Surely something could be worked out. Something.<br/><br/>It was stupid to fall in love with them. He knew that. This wasn't love. Tristan GoodFellow knew better. Shaw had warned him that love tainted a trainer's perspective. Skewed a trainer's thinking. She told him she wouldn't tolerate it. He had agreed. Love was foolish.  It wasn't love. What he and Astrid had was so much bigger.<br/><br/>"Whenever your ready, Astrid" He whispered against her neck.<br/><br/>