Killer Temptation (16 page)

She made her way over to the basin across the room and checked the double cupboard doors beneath. Six towels sat folded and she took two. Lowering to her knees, she laid out the towels and wiped the mixture, working her way up to the walls. The towels soaked within seconds and she made continuous trips to the cupboard for fresh ones. The navy blue tiles shone from her mopping techniques with only the slightest residue of oil.

Careful, she stood from the floor and crept over to the cupboard to grab herself a towel. Empty. Damn. She must have used them all to clean the mess. Behind the door, a bathrobe hung off a hook. Tristan’s? Brianna seized it and slid her arms through the sleeves, tying the belt at her waist. The fabric pooled on the floor and sagged off her too-thin body, but its softness delighted her skin and smelled clean. Would he mind that she wore his bathrobe? Her hand shook at the thought of confronting him. Disregarding the nerves humming through her body like a subwoofer in a modified car, she turned the handle and opened the door.

“Don’t you know what this means? Did you not think of that? Stop being so selfish!” The loud voice made her jump and she contemplated shutting the door, but stopped herself. Tristan stood near a large, black suitcase on the sofa, hands raking through his short hair. In front of him, his brother paced and shouted. The same one she’d seen when she opened the door and he looked about ready to attack her like some wild dog.

“Just drop it, Mikel. It’s not happening.” Tristan stomped his foot.

The one named Mikel stopped pacing, and as if sensing another presence in the room, they both whirled her way. Tristan tilted his head, soft emerald eyes watching her, unlike Mikel who studied her with an intense scowl.

“Damn right it won’t happen,” Mikel grated out, turning from Tristan. Could he be leaving? Good, she didn’t like his brother…

She swallowed when he passed the exit, heading toward her. His brows scrunched to the centre of his forehead, lips twisted with hate.

What did he plan to do? She stepped back to shut him out, but he struck his hand, halted the door, clutched her upper arm through the long sleeves of the robe, and hauled her out of the bathroom.

“Let go of me!” She bucked to no avail, feet skidding along the floor as he dragged her to where Tristan stood.

Brianna’s gaze shot to Tristan, who stared at his brother with a murderous glare. “What are you doing? Release her!”

Mikel twisted her around, her back slammed against his chest. He caught her hair, jerked her head aside and bore her neck. A sharp pain lanced across her head, some strands ripped from her scalp. She whimpered. He planned to kill her!

“Do it, Tristan. Drink from her!”

“What?” Horror shook her tone. She squirmed again, but it was pointless.

Tristan licked his lips. Hooded eyes penetrated her neck, locked on the very pulse beating with frantic rhythm, reminding her of the terrible nightmare from this morning, only worse. At least the dream resembled an actual nightmare; what she experienced now was reality in full form.

“No!” Again, her ineffective thrashing did not break Mikel’s strong hold.

Tristan took one-step closer.

“Tristan,” she whimpered. “Don’t. Please, don’t.”

His gaze broke from her neck, and met with her eyes. What was wrong with him? Why did he stand there, gaping at her? Why wouldn’t he help her? His dark pupils dilated, released from some hypnotic trance.

“I’m begging you,” she said in a harsh whisper.

The tension in his jaw relaxed. He blinked once, twice. Reaching out, he clutched her shoulders. His stare fixed above her, on his brother. “Let. Her. Go.”

“Don’t do this, Tristan. Please, just drink from her,” Mikel whispered. The anxiousness in his tone silenced the room. Why would Mikel be desperate for him to bite her?

“It’s my choice,
frère.
”

The vice-like hands slipped from her arms. She threw herself at Tristan, and wrapped her arms around his waist. His fingers threaded through her hair, holding her against his chest.

“Get out,” he said in a tone rough as gravel.

She held her breath. Shudders shook her from head to toe, eyes squeezed shut. In the background, the distant sound of the door clicking into place confirmed Mikel had left.

Thank God! An aching sob escaped. Ha! And she thought she had no tears left. Fresh ones ran down her face, past her jaw and along the slope of her throat.

The image of Rachel being sucked dry filtered through her mind, followed by another shudder down her spine.

He held her close, fingers stroking through her hair. “
Calmer toi
. I won’t bite you,” he crooned. Her trembling stopped. Tristan tilted her chin and stared into her eyes. “I promise you, Brianna. The last thing you have to worry about is being bitten.”

She believed him, trusted he spoke the truth
.

Bile rose. She could not soften, regardless of the comfort his secure arms provided. Did this stupid bond make her want his arms around her? Make her want to kiss his soft lips? The temptation to run the tips of her fingers over the slopes of muscled arms, down his back, over the front of his chest and stomach thrummed through her. The concept should make her sick, but didn’t.

She stepped back before she did something stupid, like give into the frantic urges.

I must be going crazy.

Chapter 9

Regret settled in her stomach when she stepped out of his embrace. How awkward would it be if she resumed her place in his arms? Someone knocked on the door, chasing away the crazy thought, but imbedding a more alarming one. Did Mikel return?

“I said get out, Mikel!” He shouted, but the door creaked open anyway.

Brianna sucked in a frightened breath.

“Oh,” he blinked. “Cynthia, I’m sorry. I thought you were my brother.”

When she turned to see her friend, Tristan snatched her shoulders. “I know this is hard for you, but the last thing I want is to insult anyone, in particular my leader. So could you please get ready for tonight’s ball?”

Heat spread over her cheeks. She didn’t know if shock had anything to do with it, or if some part of her was grateful and wanted to show her appreciation for not biting her. Either way, she looked into his eyes and said, “Yes, all right.” Her response barely audible.

He nudged his head in the direction of the black suitcase. “Mikel was sent to drop this off for you. Everything you need will be in there.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat, and inclined her head with a jerky nod.

“I’ll return later so we can leave together.” He stepped around her, nodded once at Cynthia, and left the room.

A wary smile met the vampire’s lips. She wore a black silk gown which shone red in the candlelight. “Is everything all right?”

She stood there, unsure how to answer the question, staring into space.

“Brianna?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” She blinked, and made a quick decision to change the subject before Cynthia figured out she lied. “Um, what is in this suitcase?”

Brianna headed to the sofa, lifted the heavy bag, and struggled to hold it up as she fumbled for the zipper.

“A bit of this and that.” Cynthia waved a nonchalant hand.

This and that, what? Bricks?
She opened the case to view a latent makeup bag complete with a variety of cosmetics, a cordless blow-dryer, hairbrushes, combs, hair pins and styling products. She withdrew the first case and set it aside. The second layer held eight pairs of shoes—some plain flats, and some heels. She removed the last case and smiled at what she saw. New underwear. Taking a pair, she frowned. Black lace panties?

I don’t think so.
She snatched another pair of…black lace panties?

This must be a joke.
Frantic, she held the suitcase and tipped the contents onto the sofa; six different styles of black lace panties, three thongs, and three push-up bras.

What? No simple cotton underwear?

“Thanks heaps, Cynthia.” She shot the woman an irate look, snatched the few pairs that had fallen onto the floor and threw them back into the suitcase.

“Sorry, but I didn’t choose the undergarments. One of my workers packed the bag. She must have assumed you required sexy underwear since you’re considered a newlywed.”

Newlywed? Brianna snickered. “I didn’t marry Tristan.”

“Maybe not in the human sense, but in our world, once a vampire finds their
moitié,
it’s a done deal.”

Arguing would be pointless. Without options, she took one of the pairs of panties and slid into them beneath the bathrobe. As she reached for the cosmetic bag, a sickening throb weighed in her stomach and she stopped herself. She splayed her hand over the hairbrush instead, but again stilled. What was she doing? She couldn’t ready herself for this complete façade they had the nerve to deem a ball.

Cynthia must have noticed her pause. The vampire sauntered to her side and took hold of the makeup case. “Please sit and allow me.”

Brianna didn’t protest. She didn’t think she had the energy. Her mind kept reeling with what had taken place in the last few hours. The emotional rollercoaster weighed on her shoulders, forcing her laden body to slump in the wingback chair.

Opening the case, Cynthia chose a peach-coloured eye-shadow, natural pink lipstick and mascara. Good, she liked to keep her makeup simple. Besides, she didn’t know how extreme the vampires were at these events. If they throw parties like the one at the Armistice Celebration, then an extravaganza was to be expected.

Bile rose in her throat. What if tonight reminded her of the Armistice Celebration? How could it not with the vampires, and Tristan…

Oh gosh, what am I going to do?

Cynthia tried different styles with her hair; leaving it down, hanging over her shoulders, arranged to one side. After a while, she settled for a loose bun in woven loops at the back of her head.

“
Tu es superbe
.” An ecstatic Cynthia muttered in French. What she said, Brianna didn’t know and quite frankly didn’t care.

Cynthia held out the skirt of the dress and Brianna rose to her feet, removing her robe and stepping into the full tulle. Fixing the small zipper on the side, Cynthia then took hold of the corset and wrapped it around Brianna’s front. The vampire fastened the small buttons down her back while she held the bodice against her breasts and fixed her cleavage. Cleavage? She gathered the skirt and made her way toward the long mirror in the far corner.

She had cleavage. A dress had never done her such justice. Most of the time she wore uncomfortable padded push-up bras before getting the result she desired, but the corset thrust her small breasts high, and the snug waistline embraced her midriff. She loved the dress when first spotting it, but never expected it to look this good. A small grin twitched her lips and she spun to take in the full length of her reflection. When faced with the mirror again, her smile dimmed, recalling the reason why she wore the gorgeous dress.

Her gaze roamed over the jagged cave ceiling. “I don’t want to do this,” she said, hoping her sister could hear her. Hoping her family did not hate her.

Someone knocked on the door, and she held her breath. Tristan strode into the room and froze when his gaze landed on her. He studied her from head to toe, his expression so serious she did not know if he fought off a smile or a frown. One thing was certain; the fierce hunger in his eyes. Not for blood, but for her body, for
her
. The look in his eyes couldn’t be mistaken for anything less.
Passion
.

“
Belle
,” he breathed.

Desire pumped through her, along with a fresh dose of guilt, spreading warmth over her cheeks. He wore a black suede, open suit jacket with large, circular buttons running beneath the lapels, a dark, grey vest underneath, and a nude silk cravat. Damn, he looked good. He embodied the darkness far greater than any phantom of the opera or Hades of the underworld ever could.

“I’ll see you two down there,” Cynthia said in a singsong voice, waving goodbye.

“I have something for you.” He dug into his back pocket, withdrawing a square, velvet box.

Again with the gifts?
“You didn’t have to—”

“I didn’t.” He lay the box in her palm and lifted the lid. “As it happens, my parents cannot be here, but they sent this for you to wear at the celebration.”

“Oh,” she stammered, gazing at the black lace choker with a silver filigree charm hanging from its centre. “It’s…different.”

“You don’t like it?”

“No, I do,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s beautiful. I just wasn’t expecting a gift.”

“They feel bad for not being here. This is their way of apologising.”

“They shouldn’t have. Um, why aren’t they here? I thought all vampires lived in
Désuet
?”

“Vampires live in different caves around the world.
Désuet
is the biggest and the most common, but
Maman et Papa
always travel to the Waitomo caves in New Zealand this time of year; they say nothing is more romantic than the glow worms.”

Glow worms? She heard about them; they light the inside of rainforest caves like a thousand stars on a summer night sky. No wonder his parents ventured to such stunning scenery.

“Let me help you.”

He took the box, extracted the choker and put the now empty box on the sofa. He stepped behind her and she stilled. The gentle brush of his fingertips against her neck sent a shiver down her spine when he clipped the necklace in place. She presumed he would step away, but instead remained where he was, stroking the sensitive skin beneath her ear. She swallowed the lump in her throat, aware of her heart pounding like a drum, and had to squeeze her legs together from the sudden ache throbbing between them.