Killer Temptation
Authors: Marianne Willis
Tags: #Fantasy, #Witches, #Vampires and Shapeshifters
Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
Killer Temptation
by
Marianne Willis
The Bonded, Book 1
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Killer Temptation
COPYRIGHT © 2013 by Marianne Willis
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by
Rae Monet, Inc. Design
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First Black Rose Edition, 2013
Print ISBN 978-1-61217-912-4
Digital ISBN 978-1-61217-913-1
The Bonded, Book 1
Published in the United States of America
Praise for Marianne Willis
“Nothing gets a story going like sex and murder. You really know how to complicate a situation.”
~Alexis
~*~
“WOW!!! This is awesome. The details and the explanations of the situations are perfect. Love love love this story!”
~Heartbroken-poet
~*~
“You could feel the desire, the lust between the couple.”
~Shazzie Chan
~*~
“I could feel the characters being torn between feelings and 'duties', their dilemmas. Excellent.”
~Johana
~*~
“The strain in Brianna's and Tristan's relationship is well-illustrated. The complex thoughts and emotions that go on in both the characters' heads make the story enticing.”
~C.F.
~*~
“
KILLER TEMPTATION
is a compelling, fresh read with rich characters and bright ideas. The author has the ability to draw a reader into her world and lock them there until the end of the story.”
~Summer Ross
Dedication
Firstly, I’d like to thank some lovely ladies
from my critique group.
Thank you, Renea Mason, for your continuous support, helpful edits, and our online chats
which still make laugh.
To Allison Black, who never missed a beat,
always the first to critique and made me smile
when you begged for more chapters.
To D.C. Stone, thanks for your immense help,
and your wonderful and encouraging comments.
A special thanks to Louise Michel, who not only helped polish this baby up, but was a tremendous help with
the French translation.
And to my editor, Lill Farrell, thank you so much for your support, time, and effort with KT.
Killer Temptation
wouldn’t be what it is without you ladies, thanks a bunch.
~*~
To my wonderful cousin, Rosemarie.
Thank you for always making me laugh,
especially when I'm feeling down.
Even though we cannot stand the distance between us, we make the most of our time when we see each other. Every moment is memorable and cherished.
I am so lucky to have someone like you in my life.
This one's for you.
All of my love, Marianne xx
Chapter 1
Shrrrp.
The horrid sound invaded her ears.
A hallucination! Yes, this had to be an illusion. The young witch standing a few feet away did not point at her dress and chant something unintelligible. With her heart in her throat, Brianna peered down. Her dress tore at the hem. The material unravelled faster and faster up her leg. Cotton bristles outlined the edge of where the rip began.
Un-fricken-believable.
Tears stung her eyes, cheeks hot with embarrassment. Over the loud orchestra music, few people around her gasped in horror, but she could not avert her gaze from the split that began at her knee and stopped at her hip.
Her dress. Her sexy, black cocktail dress that appeared painted on was now ruined. Dammit. Her first time in France, in the popular city of Nice, her first time at an Annual Armistice Celebration with hundreds of witches, werewolves and vampires—that’s right, a party with the legendary creatures of the night—and she had to run into Caroline Summers of all people. Her gaze strayed from the slit to the brunette in front of her. "You bitch." The words were meant to bellow, but instead rushed out weak and pitiful.
Caroline stood out like a southern beauty amidst the grand ballroom in her pastel green, floor-length gown, russet hair falling in perfect waves down her back. Long lashes fluttered, showcasing her big brown eyes. She entwined her hands, flexed them out until they cracked like the twist of bubble wrap. “You had that one coming, Brianna Johnson,” she sneered, her lower lip quirked into a smirk.
Panic rocked through her like a fast train on old tracks. She needed a quick escape, but didn’t know where in this crowded place to find solitude. At least the entire ballroom did not witness the embarrassing scene. A few groups near their table, however, blinked and whispered over the commotion. She wasn’t one for public confrontations, but Caroline asked for an ass-whooping.
Her sister, Rachel, shuddered beside her, wide hazel eyes fixed on the long tear, teeth gnashed together.
"Are you serious, Caroline?” Rachel slanted her eyes at the witch. “Splitting her dress, what magic spell do you call that? You're so immature."
One perfect russet shaped brow rose almost to her hairline. "I could do something far worse." Caroline extended her arm with a twirl of her fingers.
Brianna stepped back.
Rachel darted forward, vibrant mahogany hair swaying over her shoulder as she too raised her hand. "And I can make you gain ten pounds in a matter of seconds. Haven’t you heard of the term,
pick on someone your own size
?”
She swallowed and fought the impulse to stare at her feet.
Pick on someone your own size,
aka someone who wasn’t defenceless. Gosh, how she wished she could be like her family.
"You're right. In fact, Brianna shouldn't even be here,” Caroline scoffed. “This is a celebration for the supernatural...no one invited the human."
Rachel smacked her hips with her hands. "The invitation addressed the Johnson family. So that includes my sister."
"But she isn't even that. She's adopted for Pete’s sake."
She placed a hand over Rachel’s shoulder and squeezed; a warning for her to keep her cool. But her sister’s rigid stance proved how close she was to the edge.
"Adoption doesn't change a thing. Don’t act as though that's what's bothering you. You know you're just jealous because Brianna dated your stupid ex."
God bless Rachel for being the protective sibling, but she had to face her own battles. "Don’t defend me." Brianna sidestepped Rachel to confront Caroline. "Build a bridge and get over it...oh wait. You’re not powerful enough to do that, are you,
Ordinaire
?"
Caroline’s eyes flashed with anger. The anticipated reaction made Brianna grin. Witches were listed into three hierarchical ranks; Elite, Ordinaire and the lowest rank, Morsel. Maybe
human
should join the rating, because she considered herself the lowest class. She was the only one who had grown up in a community of witches but possessed no power.
"Don't be smart with me, home-wrecker."
"Home-wrecker?” Brianna almost choked out the offensive word. “You broke up with Pussy long before I started dating him."
The witch’s dark brows scrunched to the centre of her forehead. "His name is Percy."
"Percy, Pussy." She shrugged. "Same thing. He wasn't worth my time...and neither are you." With a tilt of her chin, she stalked off, determined to do so with whatever remaining dignity she had left.
Air touched her naked thigh, but she kept her shoulders straight, passing small groups of men and women. Once she was a far distance from Caroline, she clutched the torn pieces of her dress and hobbled.
The orchestra played a fast-paced introductive tune that snagged the attention of the party. Circus folk in metallic red, blue, gold, and green leotards cartwheeled their way onto the open floor in the centre of the room. Some wore Venetian masks while others had multi-coloured paint and glitter on their faces. They staged an acrobatic dance to the symphonic melody and the guests rose from their tables to see the performance.
Brianna took in the enormous ceiling with its dozen dim, crystal chandeliers embedded in the centre of the black and white painted Fibonacci spiral design. The room glowed with gold and shaded grey, setting the mood for elegance. French silk draperies cloaked each floor-length window. Red velvet carpet bordered the polished floorboards. Sweet and spicy perfumes filled the room, lingering off the many guests.
She sighed. Glad no one was drawn to the strange way she stuck close to the wall as she headed in the direction of the bathroom. She passed a chatty group. Each one shared the same tattoo; a small half-moon on the inside of their wrists. Werewolves. Dammit, not all guests were lured by the onstage presentation. The split in her side faced the wall, yet, a woman in a royal blue gown, sipping champagne, furrowed her brows.
Can she see the split, or is she suspicious of the way I’m walking?
Ignoring the conspicuous look, she reached the corridor that held the sign “Femme” above. Femme did mean woman in French, right?
"Pussy." Rachel laughed behind her. "Nice one."
Brianna paused from opening the bathroom door. She hadn't made that statement about her ex to be humorous, but was dead serious. Percy Fields had been a complete douche for the duration of their relationship. Heat scorched her cheeks. A heavy lump clogged her throat. For months he beat at her self-esteem, knocked down her confidence, always made her feel less than a woman, like the most unattractive thing to ever walk this earth. He even suggested she get implants.
So I won't feel like I'm in a relationship with a fourteen year old,
he’d said.
The jerk.
And then there were the nights she hadn’t made dinner the exact way he wanted.
What’s wrong with you, can’t you do anything right?
That sense of inadequacy made her question her past, made her wonder if her biological parents’ gave her up for adoption because deep down they had known she wouldn’t be good enough. The same low she had endured during her time with Percy surged forth all over again.
No!
She forced the notion from her head. That was history. Closing her eyes, she drew in a sharp breath. She would never let a man treat her that way again.
“Brianna, Rachel, wait for me,” Amber, their cousin, called from a short distance.
Brianna spun around. Amber waved for them to stop, her big blue eyes wide, strawberry-blonde hair bouncing, as she ran to catch up. Well, she couldn’t quite call it running. Amber’s low cut dress reached the tops of her slender thighs and the poor thing scuttled her way across the room.
Wait! Poor thing? I don’t think so.
If anything, it would pass as Karma for wearing a dress short enough to roll over her hips when she ran. But, Amber’s favourite saying: the shorter the dress, the easier the access.
Their cousin settled to a brisk walk. When she drew closer, she held out her arms, confused. “What the hell happened?”
“Rachel will explain.” Brianna shot her sister a pleading look. “I’ll meet you girls at the bar.”
“Wait,” Amber insisted, gaze straying to the split in the dress. “Maybe we can help.”
No doubt about it. Right now, however, she wasn’t ready for more magic. She wasn’t a witch and would never be one, so she should face dilemmas the human way.
“Bri-bee, we can swap dresses if you like?” Rachel’s genuine tone and sympathetic stare almost made her cry.
She loved the knee-length, purple, chiffon dress her sister wore, but trading places wasn’t fair to Rachel. “I just want a few minutes alone.” She forced on a smile and swung open the bathroom door, Rachel and Amber’s voices faded in the background.
