Killer Temptation (23 page)

She spun on her heels and took off before Brianna questioned her further.

Julian stood beside her. “Are you all right?”

What was with Cynthia? Why the secrecy, and the urgency to think of the past? She knew something and refused to tell, wanted her to figure it out. What was the big secret? Fear shot through her bones, shaking her knees. She felt so close to collapsing on the floor.

The memory of that night played out in her mind; Rachel in her gorgeous purple dress, sitting at the bar moments before running off with the bottle of Champagne. Meeting Tristan, and making love in the dark office. Searching for her sister, continuous searching.

A fireball lanced through her chest, knowing what happened next, knowing the man she loved would take her sister’s life.

“Brianna, I asked if you’re all right.” Julian’s voice interrupted her thoughts, but she kept her focus on the memory. Cynthia wanted her to revisit this for a reason and she needed to know why.

“Give me a minute, Julian.”

In her memory, she walked out into the night, to the dark alley next to the building. Tremors raked her body. She knew what awaited her down the alley, and bile rose in her throat at the thought of entering.

Female laughter resounded down the dark backstreet. Rachel, her beautiful Rachel. Brianna recalled stepping closer, hiding behind the large dumpster while her sister continued to make out with the tall man in a white shirt and black pants.

Tristan
. Her heart clenched with sharp pain. The man she shouldn’t love, and yet had no control over her emotions, the man who…wait! Tristan had worn a grey shirt that night. Hadn’t he? Yes, yes he had. She remembered fisting the charcoal material when they made love. Why would he change his clothing?

His head tilted back, Rachel ran kisses along his neck. Light hit his face. Tristan’s face.

Really try and look back,
Cynthia’s words shot through her mind. The memory of Tristan glancing at the streetlight, then grabbing Rachel and pinning her against the wall happened so fast. Brianna fought with her mind, repeating the moment his head fell back and features shone with light. His short hair the same as she remembered, skin still that beautiful pale, and the scar…the scar?

No scar marred his left cheek. No, this vampire had smooth skin, not a dimple or a single mark…

Not Tristan
. But how? And if so, then who? “Oh, Gosh!” Her eyes snapped open. What had she done? “Could it have been someone else?” She spun on her heel.

Julian stared, one brow raised, lips scrunched. He must have thought she was crazy, but she didn’t care. She stepped closer, and said again, mostly for her own ears. “I don’t think he did it.”

“Did what?” Julian shook his head.

This wasn’t the time to explain. She shifted from one foot to the other. “Stop playing games with me and take me to him right now.”

He shrugged, apologetic. “Tristan doesn’t want you to know where he is staying. He gave strict instructions to let you out of the room, but he doesn’t want to see you.”

She threw her hands in the air. “Fine. So I can’t go to him, but find him. Tell him I need to speak with him. I’m heading back to his room so he can meet me there.”

“But, I’m not supposed to leave you—”

“Julian!” Her hands smacked over his shoulders. “I’m going back to the room, I swear. Tell Tristan there’s an emergency.”

His hands lifted in the air. “Is there?”

“Yes. Now go!” Lifting her dress, she ran through the open plaza, rushed down the many hallways, at last reaching the one to Tristan’s room. Panting and sweating, she made for the door which was ajar. Hope coursed through her. With his speed, he could already be inside, waiting. She stepped closer, almost touching the handle, she froze.

“Why insist on meeting me here?” A strange male voice shouted. Something about his irreverent tone frightened her. It was strained, anxious; the voice of a soulless man…similar to how that furious vampire had sounded when they dragged him away.

“I assumed he’d be here.”

She did not recognise the first voice, but the second voice she knew all too well. Cynthia.

“Of course he’s not here. Do you think I’d have stepped inside if he were present?” the unfamiliar voice said.

“I want you to confess,” Cynthia rasped, her tone firm and instructive. “I know it was you. I know what you did the night I set you free.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You killed someone at the Annual Armistice Celebration, don’t deny it.”

“I’ve killed far more since that night.” His tone so casual, so matter-of-fact, it caused her stomach to churn.

“How could you trick me like that?”

“I needed out! I was going crazy.”

Someone paced, and from the loud booming steps, Brianna guessed the man.

“Crazy for blood,” Cynthia grated. “You lied to me. You made me believe you were well, sane. But you’re still ill, still an addict. I should have left you where you were.”

“In that padded room?” the man’s shout echoed out into the hall. “Having a small dose of your blood once a month, living like an animal.”

“I am your
moitié
. My blood is vital to you.”

“No, Cynthia. I became an addict long before we found out about our bond. I’m too far gone. I cannot rely on
just
your blood, but I do need you. Your blood gives me strength.”

“Like I said, I’m vital to you. That’s why you never try to kill me. You wouldn’t drain me dry like you drain others.”

“Yes, I need you. But I need others, too.”

“Why?” Cynthia cried. “Why can’t you try to get better? You were once an amazing soldier, so reliable and efficient in the Vampire Army.”

“I don’t care about that.”

“Then at least try for me, for us?”

“I don’t love you, Cynthia.” A shuffle sounded, as though someone shrugged the other person off of them.

“How can you say that? The night I released you, we…we made love.”

A scoff emerged. “That’s what I love about
moitié
traditions.
Share in body and blood
…isn’t that what they say? The only reason I fucked you was so I could consume so much of your blood without you being suspicious, which you weren’t because you thought the whole damn thing romantic.”

“You’re lying.” Quivering emotion rang in Cynthia’s voice.

“Am I? Truth be told, I can’t recall your touch, or how you felt beneath me. I don’t remember any smells, tastes, moans….anything. I didn’t savour or cherish you. Don’t shake your head…think about it. I bent you over a table. I wasn’t yearning to make love to you. I felt nothing but the cravings,” the man said. “I used you. The only reason I’m here right now is because I know you need a feeding, and I can’t let you wane away now, can I, oh
vital one
?”

“Maybe I should refuse your blood.”

“Do so and you die.”

“And then you’ll die not long after me, but at least all this craziness will stop.”

“You will not destroy me,” he gritted through clenched teeth. “I brought you more vials, they are in your chamber, and you will drink them. I’m leaving again and won’t be back for a while, so it should last you until we next see each other.”

“I will not let you go,” Cynthia rushed on, determination, hurt and anger expressed each word. “I won’t let you do this to your twin.”

“What about Tristan.”

Twin? She righted herself before she fell over.

Tristan has a twin!

“He is dying, Maurice.”

Bile ran up her throat. She heard wrong, no way did Cynthia say Tristan was dying.

“The young witch you killed the night I set you free was the sister of Tristan’s
moitié
. She saw you that night, watched you take her sister’s life. But she thinks your brother did, and has refused him since. Every day he grows weak, last night he fell unconscious in the council meeting…and now he’s even willing to let his
moitié
return home.”

“And?” Maurice asked with a shaky voice, sounding bemused.

“If he sends her away, he will wither and die. The council is trying to convince him otherwise, but he’s adamant. He wants his
moitié
free and he doesn’t care about dying.”

“Do you want to know what I care about? I care about being caught and sent back into that padded cage. So, get out of my way.”

“This is your brother, Maurice. Your twin,” she insisted.

Brianna eased back the door and strode inside. In the far corner of the room, Cynthia clutched the man’s black shirt, big, round and pleading eyes staring into his.

She took in the back of Maurice, but even so the resemblance compared to Tristan was exact. Maurice’s body twitched, however, and he scratched the inside of his arms like a junky craving his next fix.

“Why should I do anything?” The vampire shouted. “Don’t you remember Tristan turned me in, he’s the one who sent me to that cage? I owe him nothing…”

They both stilled.

Cynthia’s bloodshot gaze landed on her. Maurice whirled around. His red-rimmed eyes dilated, tongue running over his fangs. “Eh
bien
, just what I need.”

Cynthia gasped, tightening her grip on Maurice’s shirt. “Brianna, run!” Her shout echoed.

She stepped back to do just that, but horror locked down every cell in her body when he turned and swung his arm. The back of his palm struck Cynthia’s face, and she slammed to the floor in an unconscious heap.

“Cynthia!”

“She will be fine,” Maurice said, marching toward her. “Unlike you, I’m afraid.”

With lightning speed, he advanced, clutching her shoulders and smacking her against the solid wall. A burning gush of air wheezed past her lungs, and she whimpered from the pain.

“Damn you.” She coughed. “You’re the one who killed my sister.”

He blinked, then grinned. “Ah, my brother’s
moitié
, I take it. Nice to meet you.” His tone rose and fell when he spoke, as though unsure whether to shout or whisper. “And just so you know, your sister begged for it. She took from me, and I took from her.”

“What are you talking about? My sister didn’t beg to die!”

“Perhaps I took too much. Just know the little beggar died satisfied.” That red-rimmed gaze danced over her face, the movement jerky. “Now, be a
bonne fille
and tilt your neck so I can drink from you.”

“Never.” She kicked and smacked, attempted to squirm free. Her knee struck between his legs. He bellowed, slamming his fists against the wall.

She took the opportunity, dove under his arm and ran, but didn’t even make it to the door when her world spun. She blinked away the vertigo, and Maurice’s familiar face came into focus, hovering inches from hers. They were now in the centre of the room and a fair distance from the door.

“A human trying to outrun a vampire.” He laughed, deep and cruel. “Why, it’s preposterous.”

Those bloodshot green eyes stopped their jerky movements and stilled on her. His fingers combed through her hair, fisted and yanked back. A burning sting lanced through her scalp. The slope of her neck now vulnerable to his fangs. His strained features sent a chill down her spine. Strange, how one pair of the same eyes made her yearn with need, and the other made her shudder in fear. They might share the exact colour, but staring into Maurice's was like looking into a dark pit of hatred and anger. The complete opposite of Tristan’s whose emerald eyes shone with kindness and love. She gasped aloud.
A love I rejected over and over. And now he’d never know my true feelings.

“
Bon appétit
.”

She sucked in what would probably be her last breath, and screamed, “Tristan!”

Chapter 13

Tristan snatched the lapels of Julian’s jacket, disregarding his weak trembles, eyes wide and frantic. “What do you mean there’s an emergency?”

“She said to meet her in your room—”

Tristan!
The panicked cry of Brianna echoed through his mind, alarming all his senses. “She’s in danger,” he muttered.

“What danger? She was fine when I left her…”

Ignoring his brother, he closed his eyes, focused on his bedroom.

“Tristan, don’t flash! Let me get
our brothers and
…” Julian’s voice declined.

Body fading to mist, mixing with the air, he was surrounded by darkness. Frustrated and desperate to reach her, he endured every unbearable second to form whole again. Tristan’s eyes flew open when his feet flattened against solid ground. The faded surroundings cleared. The shapes, colours and furnishings of his room filled out.

“Stop!” Tristan shouted to Maurice, who stood with one hand clutched around Brianna’s arm, the other gripping her hair, bearing her neck to his mouth.

“Stop, get away from her,” he said again, attempting to rush forward, but he might as well trudge through setting cement. He managed a few pitiful steps. Weakness had overtaken him in the last two days, but after teleporting here…
Merde
.

Beside them, an unconscious Cynthia lay on the floor. His twin shot him a look, eyes slanted, lips drawn back. Maurice did not back away from Brianna. Instead, his fingers sank deeper into her arm.

Ineffectiveness consumed him, like watching through a clear glass window, trapped and with no way to get to the other side.

“Tristan,” she whimpered, panicked.

Brianna, his beautiful Brianna. The fear in her eyes screamed like a lost child, begged for safety and comfort.

Tristan peered at Maurice. Eyes bloodshot and glassy, it wasn’t hard to guess Maurice needed blood and was powerless to fight his urges.

A shiver rode along his spine, hands curled into fists and flexed. Every protective instinct woke, pumping energy he hadn’t experienced in days.