Tristan Caine Quotes

Tristan Caine: Apparently, you're not out of my system, Ms. Vitalio.

You,” she whispered to the space between them, “Tristan Caine, are a beautiful, beautiful man. And my heart beats for you.

Tristan Caine was toast. But he was one smooth toast.

Tristan Caine: I don’t think anyone can handle you. Not if you don’t want to be handled.

Tristan Caine terrified her, but it wasn't because of the death he was bringing her slowly, the death he would bring her one day, the death he raised in her. No. It was the life.

Inhaling deeply, she continued. “I just, I really like you Tristan Caine, as messed up as you are.” One of his hands settled on her hips, the other coming up to her neck. “My loyalty is not a luxury for you, Morana. It’s a gift and it’s yours. You never have to walk into a room and question that.

Me: I'm leaving the city. I have a friend I've spoken to. Tristan Caine: Unspeak to your friend. If I'm not leaving this city, you sure as hell aren't.

You Tristan Caine, are a beautiful, beautiful man. My heart beats for you” The confusion & surprise on his face were priceless. This wasn't The Predator. This was the boy who had been called a monster for doing the brave thing & left behind alone never to be told he was precious

Tristan 'The Predator' Caine snored like a baby.

She saw the text, and her stomach dropped, her heart pounding. Tristan Caine: Apparently, you're not out of my system, Ms. Vitalio.

You,” she whispered to the space between them, “Tristan Caine, are a beautiful, beautiful man. And my heart beats for you.

Tristan,” she sighed, her hands holding the dresser tightly. He rolled his hips, almost blacking her out with the sudden movement, touching her magic spot. “That’s the name you’re going to be screaming for a long time, Ms. Vitalio. Remember it.” “Stop talking and fuck me then, Mr. Caine,” she challenged.

Tristan 'The Predator' Caine. They called him the predator. His reputation preceded him. He rarely went on the hunt but when he did, it was over. When he did, he went straight for the jugular. No distractions. No playing around. For all his unruffled attitude, the man was more lethal than the knife cutting into her thigh. He was also the reason she had come to the party. She was going to kill Tristan Caine.

He, she thought, was interesting. There was something very coiled up about him, something ready to strike, but the best part about snakes was how little they could be bothered to do anything unless someone was blocking their sun.

Dante chuckled darkly, the sound icy. “My father,” he sneered the word, leaving no doubt in her mind as to his own feelings for the man, “prizes one thing above all else—control. Control over his empire, control over his puppets, control over his family. And you know the one person he’s never been able to control?” ‘You try to leash me, I’ll fucking strangle you with it.’ Amara’s words of a fourteen-year-old boy came back to her. “Tristan Caine,” she whispered, stumped all over again by the sheer brazenness of him. Dante’s lips twisted. “Tristan Caine.

Tristan 'The Predator' Caine. They called him the predator. His reputation preceded him. He rarely went on the hunt but when he did, it was over. When he did, he went straight for the jugular. No distractions. No playing around. For all his unruffled attitude, the man was more lethal than the knife cutting into her thigh. He was also the reason she had come to the party.

What are we celebrating?” “Our fragile mortality,” Tristan said. “The inevitability that we will descend into chaos and dust.” “Grim,” Callum offered appreciatively, closing a hand around Tristan’s shoulder. “Try not to tell Rhodes that or she’ll start decaying all over the place.” Because he could not resist, Tristan asked, “What if she’s tougher than you think she is?” Callum shrugged, dismissive. “I’m just curious,” Tristan clarified, “whether that would please you or send you into a spiral of existential despair.” “Me? I never despair,” said Callum. “I am only ever patently unsurprised.” Not for the first time, Tristan considered how the ability to estimate people to the precise degree of what they were must be a dangerous quality to have. The gift of understanding a person’s reality, both their lightness and darkness, without the flaws of perception to blur their edges or to lend meaning to their existence was…unsettling. A blessing, or a curse. “And if I disappoint you?” Tristan prompted. “You disappoint me all the time, Caine. It’s why I’m so very fond of you,” Callum mused, beckoning Tristan toward the library and its finer bottles of vintage scotch.

Tristan Caine,” she whispered, stumped all over again by the sheer brazenness of him. Dante’s lips twisted. “Tristan Caine.

Lorenzo Maroni. Feared. Tristan Caine?

Inhaling deeply, she continued. “I just, I really like you Tristan Caine, as messed up as you are.” One of his hands settled on her hips, the other coming up to her neck. “My loyalty is not a luxury for you, Morana. It’s a gift and it’s yours. You never

that attention? Inhaling deeply, she continued. “I just, I really like you Tristan Caine, as messed up as you are.” One of his hands settled on her hips, the other coming up to her neck. “My loyalty is not a luxury for you, Morana. It’s a gift and it’s yours. You never have to walk into a room and question that.

Tristan 'The Predator' Caine. They called him the predator. His reputation preceded him. He rarely went on the hunt but when he did, it was over. When he did, he went straight for the jugular. No distractions. No playing around. For all his unruffled attitude, the man was more lethal than the knife cutting into her thigh.

He was also the reason she had come to the party. She was going to kill Tristan Caine.

He could see the effect his words were having on her. Her lips trembled as she broke their gazes and looked down at his hand. Taking a deep breath in, one that pushed the bite he’d given her on her cleavage into stark relief, she traced the tape on his left ring finger with shaky hands. And then she peeled it off carefully, seeing the small tattoo he’d gotten two nights ago. He looked down at it himself, pleased with the curvature, the one word loud and clear. Morana. “Oh shit,” he heard her gasp before she looked up at him, openly crying now, her tears making her eyes squint in an adorable way. Though he was certain she’d kick him if he said so. “I’m so fucking in love with you, Tristan Caine,” she blubbered, attacking his chest with her face and pressing kisses against his pounding heart.

Me: Planning to make me go somewhere, Mr. Caine? Tristan Caine: On the contrary, I’m planning to make you come somewhere, Ms. Vitalio. 5 minutes.

She was going to kill Tristan Caine.

Tristan 'The Predator' Caine.

And Tristan Caine snapped his neck.

What were you doing with Tristan Caine?

Tristan 'The Predator' Caine. They called him the predator. His reputation preceded him. He rarely went on the hunt but when he did, it was over. When he did, he went straight for the jugular. No distractions. No playing around. For all his unruffled attitude, the man was more lethal than the knife cutting into her thigh. He was also the reason she had come to the party. She was going to kill Tristan Caine. ***

Tristan Caine terrified her, but it wasn't because of the death he was bringing her slowly,the death he would bring her one day,the death he raised in her. No. It was the life.

She had, in fact, had a panic attack, a massive one at that. And that Tristan Caine had, in fact, saved her from her own head.

You, Tristan Caine, are a beautiful, beautiful man.And my heart beats for you.

You, she whispered to the space between them, Tristan Caine, are a beautiful, beautiful man. And my heart beats for you.

You, Tristan Caine, are a beautiful, beautiful man. And my heart beats for you.

Dante’s lips twisted. “Tristan Caine.” Morana could hear the same awe she felt in Dante’s voice, the fact that a fourteen-year-old boy had told that boss of an entire mob that he wouldn’t yield… “I’ve seen men, grown men, lick my father’s boot to remain in his favor, Morana. By the time I was eighteen, I thought there was not a single soul on this earth who could stand up to him. And then Tristan happened.

though he would never admit it, my father fears Tristan,” Dante stated, a smidgen of respect in his voice. Lorenzo Maroni. Feared. Tristan Caine?

My father,” he sneered the word, leaving no doubt in her mind as to his own feelings for the man, “prizes one thing above all else—control. Control over his empire, control over his puppets, control over his family. And you know the one person he’s never been able to control?” ‘You try to leash me, I’ll fucking strangle you with it.’ Amara’s words of a fourteen-year-old boy came back to her. “Tristan Caine,

Whoever was on the other side definitely got a good look at her leg when she had taken out her knives from her bag and strapped them to her thigh. They were the same knives she had stupidly tried to kill Tristan Caine with—the knives that had been collecting dust in her bag since the night she had gone back to his penthouse. She had never, for some reason, felt the need to bring them out there. That in itself was confounding considering she’d slept with weapons under her pillow every single night under her father’s roof for years. Not once in the penthouse though, not even that first night, not on any night since then. The realization stunned her.

Morana looked into his gaze, seeing the lost boy and the lovable man, both of whom he kept hidden from the world, and told him. “I’m in love with you, Tristan Caine. I don’t expect you to say it back. I don’t need you to. I just need you to keep on loving me.