Killer Temptation (25 page)

A single tear slid down Maurice’s cheek. He bent forward, lips brushing the top of her raven-dark hair. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,
ma chérie
.” His shaky hands roamed down her neck and settled on her shoulders. With a gentle nudge, he eased her away.

Cynthia, with her bloodshot eyes, tear-stained face, slackened mouth and puffy nose, backed up step by small step until her back hit the wall. Her devastation resembled a living masterpiece, ready to be painted or sculpted by a famous artist. She truly was the epitome of a woman who had lost all she held dear, and Tristan worried how she’d make it through this.

Maurice focused on Cynthia sinking to the floor in one emotional mess. Tristan advanced on his brother, securing his arms behind his back.

“No, Tristan. Don’t, don’t do this. Not again.” His brother’s voice broke with such desperation as he struggled to free himself, but there was no defeating him now. Brianna’s blood gave him a rush of bursting energy and enough strength to subdue his twin. “Tristan, I’m begging you. Don’t put me back in there. I can’t go back!”

His heart stung as though a bundle of cut live wires swarmed inside his chest. This reminded him of the first time he and his family sent Maurice to the rehabilitation facility. “I’m sorry, Maurice.” His voice shook and he cleared his throat. “But this is for the best.”

“Tristan! What’s going on?” Julian’s voice travelled from down the hall, and his younger brother froze when he rushed into the room. Dominic and Mikel stormed in a second after, followed by three guards. Each of their gazes roved over the mess of the room, then landed on the women and Maurice. He tightened his grip when Maurice spotted the guards and struggled to free himself.

Mikel’s shoulders sagged. “I don’t understand.”

Dominic’s jaw flexed. “Why is he not confined?”

“He escaped?” Julian frowned with pity.

If Tristan answered, he feared his words might surge forth with a sob, so instead, he remained silent. Maurice trembled beneath his grasp. Each dreadful tremor rode a fresh dose of guilt through him. He handed Maurice over. Dominic and Mikel, both with tears in their eyes, took hold of his arms and the guards followed them out the door. Julian watched them leave with an unbearable pain twisted in his face.

“This is for the best.” His voice was coarse, and he cleared his throat.

Julian gave a curt nod. “How did he escape?”

Tristan shook his head. “I’m not sure.”

“It’s my fault.”

They both spun around. Cynthia slouched in the corner, gaze focused on the stone tiles, as though she counted dust particles. With the back of her wrist, she swiped the continuous flow of tears. “I set him free the night of the Annual Armistice celebration. And I’ve been lying to the guards at the rehabilitation centre, tricking them with old surveillance footage so they wouldn’t become suspicious of Maurice’s disappearance.”

“You did what? Why?” Tristan knelt beside her.

Her lip quivered when she met his gaze. “He told me he was better, that he didn’t feel the cravings anymore.” A hiccup fused with her next sob, and she smacked the back of her head against the wall. “He wanted to be with me, told me he loved me and wanted a future with me. He promised to meet me at the celebration that night because he wanted to track down your parents first, then see all of you and share the good news. I met Brianna in the bathroom as I waited for Maurice, but he never showed up and I left the party, flashing almost all over France in search of him. I realised soon after he had tricked me. He wanted away from
Désuet
, so he made the excuse to go to the celebration and see you all.”

“Cynthia, you know the addicted must go through a trial period before being released,” Julian shouted.

She nodded. “He sounded so sincere. I had to help him.”

“Wait,” Tristan stilled. “You called me that night. Told me you needed to see me because of an urgent matter. I left Brianna to find you.”

“Yes, I couldn’t find you at the party with the others and I assumed you were with Maurice, but when you met me alone, I made up some stupid excuse about how I felt uncomfortable with one of the werewolf packs.”

“You said they gave you threatening stares. We invited that same pack to join our council meeting not too long ago, to rectify any issues between the Wahyu tribe and the vampires.”

“I know, I remember. I didn’t mean for the lie to get so out of hand.”

“Why didn’t you tell me the truth?”

Cynthia gazed his way. “I guess a part of me hoped I was wrong about Maurice. I didn’t want to believe he tricked me. I wanted to believe he’d show his face soon and make us all proud. I love him so much and I just wanted to believe he was free from his addiction. Then, when I spoke with Brianna…”

Cynthia shot his
moitié
a look. “I’m so sorry. When you told me what you saw the night of the celebration I refused to believe it was my Maurice. Deep down I knew though, knew he killed your sister.” Tears rushed forth, and she shook her head. “I told you in the bathroom true love was meant to be difficult, but I still believed. I forced myself to mask my guilt each time I was around you and Tristan, pretending to be happy just so you wouldn't suspect anything. I had to remind myself to give Maurice a chance. But I don’t believe anymore,” she sobbed. “I don’t believe…and I will never forgive myself. I’m so very sorry.”

Brianna stood, stabilising her hands against the wall. Tristan rose to help, but she held out her hand to stop him. Tears trailed down her face. She stepped over the chunks of wood and the splattered wax across the stone tiles, making her way over to Cynthia.

“It’s okay,” Brianna sobbed, kneeling on the floor and taking Cynthia in her arms. “Shh…it’s not your fault. It’s okay.” The soothing words made both women cry harder.

Brianna might be injured, but from this view, Tristan couldn’t tell. He nudged Julian and tilted his head toward them. His brother stood his ground, rubbing the back of his neck as though emotional females knocked the testosterone out of him. Tristan gave another insistent nudge and Julian at last stepped forward.

“Let’s get you home, Cynthia.”

Brianna eased out of Cynthia’s embrace as his brother scooped the distraught woman, cradling her to his chest.

Tristan regarded Brianna. Her gaze followed Julian and Cynthia leaving the room, then those vivid grey eyes met his stare. The fall of blonde hair reaching her shoulders, moist, parted lips and the slight pucker in her brow gave her features such a fragile appearance. Not even those wet, spiky lashes or the red puffiness of her nose detracted from her beauty.

“Are you all right?”

She shook her head, and then turned her attention to the mess around the room.

Panic shot through his body like a lightning bolt. He knelt beside her. “What’s wrong?” He scanned her up and down, checking for open wounds or anything fatal. “Are you hurt?”

“No.” A humourless smile jerked her lips. “I…I’m so sorry, Tristan.” She sniffled and blinked, as though refusing to cry. “I’m sorry for believing you were the one who killed my sister.”

“Don’t apologise. You had no idea about my twin, and I never told you about him because he was locked away in a facility, not to mention you and I could not hold a civil conversation without one of us lashing out.” He should have put two and two together when Brianna accused him. That should have been a clue it was Maurice, but he could not have known.

“Yes, and that’s my fault. It’s all my fault. I kissed you that night with the intention of killing you.”

“You were mourning the loss of your sister—”

“But, I could have killed you for real this time. And the worst part, I noticed something wrong with you. I recognised your weakness. You haven’t had my blood and you were starving for weeks. Tristan,” she sighed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I assumed you wouldn’t have cared. Besides, your reaction to the notion of being bitten was evident. I didn’t want to scare you, I couldn’t.”

Her shoulders lifted in a small shrug, gaze falling to the floor. “It scared me because it reminded me of my sister’s death.”

“But, you let me drink from you a moment ago. Why do that if it reminds you of your sister’s death?”

A sad smile touched her mouth. “Regardless of my fear, I knew my blood would help you, would save you. It’s the least I can do after the false accusations I made against you.” A cry broke through her words and the column of her neck bobbed. “I hope you can forgive me for being so cruel to you, to your family and your people.”

“Stop crying, Brianna. I hate seeing you cry.”

“I’m sorry.” She rubbed the tears with her palms. “I can’t help it. I’m a terrible person.”

“No. You’re not.” He shook his head, stood from the floor and reached out a hand. She placed her own in his and he tugged her to her feet.

How could Brianna think herself a terrible person when he kidnapped her, kept her here? She’d been mourning. Her life had been turned upside down and he charged in and spun it around more. And he did all this for the sake of a bond? All this time she had to look at the same face of her sister’s killer. His stomach churned with unease. He must be hideous in her eyes. Why should she bare another moment of his haunting face? No. It wasn’t right. Now, he must fix this.

Before Julian approached him earlier, he had left a meeting with Lord Sylvestre who made a decision about his dilemma.
The choice is yours, Tristan. But I hope you know what you’re doing.

Even though he could never make it up to Brianna, never take back the time she lost with her family, he knew he was about to do something completely unselfish for the first time since bringing her here.

“Look at this place,” she muttered, gazing about the room.

The clothes and the mess of the place didn’t matter. He’d take care of the broken furniture and splattered wax later. Right now, a more important matter required his attention. Something he should have said a long time ago. “Brianna.”

“Yes?” Bloodshot eyes peered up.

Tristan held out his hands, and she placed hers in his. “It’s time you went home.”

“What?” Her eyes widened, fingers squeezed his. “But, I can’t go now. You’ll die without my blood.”

He sighed, sounding more aloof than he felt. “I’ve lived for three hundred years. That’s more than a lifetime.”

“Tristan—”

“No, Brianna.” He would not be her charity case. “You’re leaving.”

She swallowed, her pained eyes brimmed with unshed tears. “Do you really mean that?”

“The sooner, the better.”

Chapter 14

“Brother?” Mikel’s head popped through the open door, intervening on their conversation. “You are needed in the main foyer.”

“I’m busy at the moment, Mikel. Can this wait?”

He cleared his throat and stepped further into the room. “Lord Sylvestre wants to see you right away.”

She glanced between them. Tristan’s eyes closed for a moment. “Fine,” he said. “Brianna, please join us.”

She swallowed back the lump forming in her throat, and followed them out of the room. In silence they headed down the dim hallway, her focus on Tristan’s wide shoulders and straight, stiff posture.

Amazing how he seemed weak moments ago, and now full of strength. A quiet gasp left her mouth at the many hints of his slow demise. All this time, he had been withering away and she only just noticed, but was never overly concerned. What if he had collapsed in front of her, or confessed his hunger? She cringed, dreading the thought of her response. She now knew the truth, but that did nothing to quell the shame riding through her system.

His casualness frightened her. Before Mikel’s interruption, they spoke about sending her home. A quivering breath feathered past her lips, and she was greeted with the emotional memory of her days in foster care. Passed from home to home like chain-letters. People had grown sick, tired, or perhaps bored of her presence and shipped her off. Could this be why he was so adamant? Had he had enough of her and wanted to part ways? Even if that meant starving himself to death? She fisted her hands, nails digging into palms at the thought of him inhaling his last breath, of him dead, no more.

A weak, pained sound surged past her lips. Tristan spun around.

“What is wrong?”

“We must talk,” she whispered.

“Soon, but first my Lord awaits me.” He continued in his stride and called over his shoulder. “We are almost at the town square.”

When they arrived at the forum, Lord Sylvestre waited for them in the centre, flanked by two guards.

Tristan threw back a glance. “Follow me.”

They approached Lord Sylvestre, and Tristan greeted the leader with a small nod. She mimicked the action, but looked jerky and awkward.

“Hello, Tristan, Brianna.” Lord Sylvestre’s gaze roamed over their torn clothes and messed-up hair. She didn’t know how severe her bruises were, but pain throbbed on her right cheek, and her neck burned as if someone exfoliated her with sandpaper. No doubt red from the grip Maurice had earlier.

“I ran into Julian, who informed me about Maurice. Are you both all right?”

She nodded as Tristan said, “We are now, thank you.”

Lord Sylvestre’s eyes met with hers. “This has never happened in
Désuet
. Our rehabilitation facility is under strict security and this is the first time a patient has escaped. My deepest apologies, Brianna. We wish for all
moitiés
to feel safe in our home.”

“Don’t fret. The important thing is we’re all safe.”

“Yes, but this could have been prevented if we had known.” Lord Sylvestre frowned. “I learned Cynthia had something to do with this.”

“Don’t.” Brianna stepped forward. “Please, Lord Sylvestre. She’s a victim also. I don’t blame her for what happened, and I beg you not to either.”

The leader smiled, and tossed his long white hair behind his shoulder. “Your consideration to your friend warms me, but I’m afraid Cynthia must face the consequences of her actions. What those consequences are, I’m not sure yet, but I promise to give her a fair trial.”