Killer Temptation (7 page)

A techno beat rang in the air and Brianna cringed. Her phone. She didn't need to look, but stalked over to the wooden dresser and snatched the small device.
Unknown
flashed on the screen. It must be Tristan…again.

She had given him her number the night of the celebration, before he left her with a hollow ache in her chest. She remembered watching him walk away and believing she could never get enough of him. She did not understand the powerful emotions he stirred, and she sure as hell didn’t want to comprehend them now. After all, he had lied. There wasn’t an important emergency because she found him outside making out with her sister before leaving her dead in the cold, dark alley.

"It's him again. Am I right?" Amber’s gaze shot to the phone, also aware of the non-stop calling.

"Yes."

"Will you ever answer?" She hadn't taken any of his calls since that night. He didn’t quit, however. "Not until you agree to help me. Do you remember our last conversation with Rachel? We never told her how much we loved her, how important she was, how beautiful, funny, caring…nothing!” She shouted, panting now. Rage ran through her veins like a fatal poison, blackening her blood and decomposing her soul. “He took that from us, took away our chance to say goodbye.”

A heavy sigh left Amber’s lips. She stood in front of the small, round table. "All right. All right.” She clutched the back of a chair. “I'll help you.” The grip she held tightened, knuckles whitening. “But what if this backfires, what if I'm not powerful enough to complete the spell?"

Brianna’s shoulders sagged. Anything to do with witchcraft, and her cousin shrivelled in fear. Even when they were kids and Amber had learned how to perform spells, she’d always cried, afraid of failing. Aunt Taylor, Amber’s mother, wasn’t very encouraging either. Most of the time, the Elite witch belittled her.

Your brother is more powerful than you. Why can’t you be more like him?
Or sometimes she complained about her techniques.
That’s not the right way,
she had said during many gatherings with the clans.
You’re embarrassing me as well as yourself.
No wonder Amber doubted herself.

Brianna was grateful for the parents she’d had, ones who loved her and were proud of her, no matter what.

But, I’m not like you.
She once cried to them a few years after the adoption.

You are like us,
her mother insisted.
You may not be powerful like us, but you share our spirit and values in life. You’re our daughter.

I’m your daughter by documents, signed papers...

Paper or blood,
her father added,
it’s the same thing for us. We love you, Bri-bee.

Bri-bee,
the nickname she received after being stung by a bee on their first summer holiday as a family. It had stuck like glue since, but she’d never minded. She had never been called that before, and though her adoptive parents did not have the privilege of naming her, the moniker made up for it.

Did her biological parents even like the name they gave her? She could not remember them, being very young when first placed into foster care. A good thing, perhaps. At least this way she had no memory to hold on to. From what she learned growing up, they’d left her on the office doorstep of children’s services at the age of two with only the clothes on her back and an ID bracelet with the name Brianna Clare. No surname or link to where she came from.

Adoption changed her life, and because of it she loved her family very much. Not only would she do this to avenge Rachel, but also for her parents.

"You are powerful enough," Brianna insisted. Even though Amber did not classify herself to be the best witch, she knew how to cast spells and had done so several times in the past. "I believe in you."

Amber smiled with a slow, sad nod. “Let me see what I can do.” She shuffled toward the bathroom.

“And Amber?”

Her cousin paused at the doorway.

“Once this is over and we return home, I wondered if we can talk about you moving in. That’s of course if you want to,” she rushed out. “I don’t think I’ll be able to stand living alone, and you’re the closest thing I’ve left to a sister.” Her chin trembled on the last part, but she inhaled deep and controlled her emotions.

Tears glittered in Amber’s eyes. “I would like that,” she said before heading into the bathroom.

The phone in her hand rang again, piercing her ears, her heart. Now that things were going her way, she could put the next step of her plan into motion. On one deep inhale, she hit the small green button and put the phone to her ear.

"Brianna?" Her name broke from his mouth in an outburst of panic. "Brianna, are you there?"

"Yes, I’m here."

"
Dieu merci
. I've been calling you for days. I’ve been worried sick. Are you all right?"

She bit her lip, tempted to throw her phone against the wall and watch it shatter to pieces. But instead she took it out on the hot pink platform heels near the bed. Kicking the shoes, they bounced across the carpet. "Yes." Dammit. The ire in her tone stopped her from sounding convincing.

"Brianna?"

Concern radiated in his voice. Concern? How dare he!

"Are you sure you're all right? You sound upset. Why haven't you returned any of my calls?"

"I’ve been busy with a…tragedy in the family." Her gaze averted to the tiny floral design on the cream quilt, which did little to occupy her thoughts. Nothing would make her forget what she lost; her sister, her best friend, her family.

Silence met the line.

Did the call drop?

"I'm sorry to hear that,” he said.

The worst part; he sounded genuine.
Yeah, I bet you are, you bastard.

"Tell me what I can do to help?"

Her nails bit into her palms, leaving a sharp sting and half-moon crimson lines. "I think you’ve done enough."

"Pardon?"

"Your voice alone has helped me plenty…I’m sorry I haven’t returned your calls.”

Again, silence. "I can imagine this is a horrible time for you, but I would love to see you." The hope in his voice spoke volumes.

Of course he would, to drink from her again, drain every vein in her body. She shot her gaze to the ceiling, inhaling another deep breath.

You can do this. You’re strong enough.
"I'm quite eager to see you too." She swallowed, forcing the bile back down her throat.

"Good." He smiled; she heard it in his tone. "Meet me tonight,
ma
douceur
."

"Of course," she urged enthusiasm into her voice, which was almost impossible when she’d rather shout insults and threaten his life. “Where should I meet you?” She yanked the pen and notepad from the bedside table. The fountain tip scratched against the pad as she took down the address. "This area isn't far,” she muttered, remembering the guide mentioning this neighbourhood when she and the girls toured the city two weeks ago. He must still be in Nice. The night of the Armistice Celebration he’d told her he lived somewhere in the southwest of France. “So, you never went home after the ball?"

"No!” he said, as though it was the craziest thing he ever heard. His accent became more prominent with the rise in his tone. “I can’t leave you behind."

What a crock. He no doubt planned to kill her just as he had Rachel. "Well, in that case, I'll see you tonight.” She blinked. Could that be her voice? So husky? So believable? A good thing, since she didn’t want to rouse his suspicion. "I'll stop by around eight."

"I can arrange to meet you, or pick you up—"

"No!" She cringed. That came out a little too harsh, but she would not put Amber at risk by giving away their location. "I would rather come to you."

“Brianna?”

“Yes?”

A pause. "I'm sorry for whatever you're going through. I promise to hold you and kiss away your pain tonight."

She swallowed and tried not to breathe so heavy. "Do you really mean that?" She couldn’t help but ask. How could he act so...normal? Had he no shame for murdering an innocent?

"Yes. At the celebration I told you there were things I needed to explain. I will do that tonight."

"Okay. I can’t wait. Goodbye."

"Goodbye,
ma chérie
," he murmured.

She released the call, and set the phone beside her. A warm, wet tear ran down her cheek. She swept it away with the back of her hand. No more. Tears were for the weak, and tonight she must be strong.

The bathroom door swung open with a low squeak. Amber strode out with a bunch of pillar candles and a tube of red lipstick. Brianna straightened, blinking away the remaining moisture.

"I um…I found this in Rachel’s makeup trunk. Trust her to always come prepared.” Amber smiled, weak and miserable. “I think I can use this to cast a poisoning spell...but you know what you must do, don't you?"

Her gaze ran over the lipstick and a shudder shook through her. From the items her cousin held, it wasn’t hard to guess. "Yes.” The simple word broke from her mouth.

Amber’s blue eyes softened with pity. She crossed to the small living area, placed the lipstick on the coffee table and surrounded it with the candles. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Clearing her throat, she made her way across the room and sat beside the younger witch. “I’ve never been surer about anything in my life.”

Amber shut her eyes once the table was set, features relaxed, her breathing light and even.

Brianna turned her attention to the candles. The tip of the first candle sparked into flame, followed by the second, then the third, until each candle ignited.

“Okay. I think I’m ready.”

She placed her hand over Amber’s. “Thank you,” she said under her breath.

Amber gave a fleeting smile before turning her attention back to the table. Her eyes shut once again. She raised her arms, hands hovering over the lit candles and lipstick.

“
Blood for blood. Life for life
.” She spoke with an even and firm tone. “
The first lips you touch remains all right, the kiss you give is the one to strike. A death of pain, a death of fright. The one who drank the blood and life, is the one who must die on this night
.”

A cool gust burst through the room, dancing over her face, arms and along her legs. The frigid air sank beneath her pores and sent a chill down her spine. Goosebumps broke out and she rubbed them away. The candles flickered when the breeze twirled. Papers and empty chocolate bar wrappers rustled high, almost touching the ceiling.

She did not fear, having seen this a thousand times before. Her gaze settled on her cousin’s tight-shut eyes. The wind settled. The bits of paper and empty wrappers floated to the floor. Amber’s eyes shot open and the flicker stilled. “Done.”

****

The brown, worn, leather sofa squeaked as Tristan shifted, attempting to find a comfortable position. His gaze fixed on the brass empire clock on the mantel across from him. The little gold hands ticked with slow precision, counting the tenth minute past eight o’clock.

She should be here by now.
His fingers strummed over his knee, unable to stop fidgeting. Nothing he did helped his restlessness.
Dieu
, he could not recall the last time nerves swarmed through his stomach. He inhaled, breath quivering. His family hired a cleaning service at the beginning of the week, and the strong scent of citrus and polish lingered. Done with sitting in one spot, he stood and paced. His shoes smacked against the creaky wooden floorboards.

His family had bought this residence two centuries ago. They used it for visits just as they used many of their other homes around France. The property stood as a freestanding house, hiding the underground home built beneath the floors.

His brothers no doubt heard him pace, but they knew better than to interrupt, understanding the importance of this night. Tonight he would reveal to Brianna that she was his mate. His
moitié
.

Their connection at the ball had ignited like live wires. Their desire painted the night with each kiss, caress, and breathless sound that exploded in the dark space of the office. He should have known then, but hadn’t. Not until his teeth sank into her neck and the sweet flavour of her blood filled his mouth had the truth been revealed.
His
.
Completely, utterly his
.

Finding a mate was a very rare, yet wondrous thing between two vampires, but vampires also bonded with other species. No question about it, Brianna was his
moitié
. Now that he experienced her taste, no other would do. She was his lifeline…his everything.

“You better stop pacing or I’ll go back on my word and come up.” Mikel’s faint voice surged through the wooden floorboards. Damn vampire hearing, if only it wasn’t so vigorous. He wanted his privacy with Brianna. He told his brothers several times to head home, but they didn't trust leaving him alone. Considering what took place at the ball. In the last few days, the vampire committee received several threats from unspecified witch clans. The gathering represented peace with the three species, but now, many had lost faith in the vampire race. The council members grew anxious to set things right and reinforce amity.

Tap. Tap. Tap
. Tristan paused mid-step and shot a look to the wooden door. Like the drums of war, his heart beat with a wild tempo.

She's here
.

He knew it. Her sweet, wild orchid scent lingered at the entrance. So lost in thought, his perfect hearing hadn’t registered her footsteps approaching the house. In three quick strides he took hold of the handle and swung the door open.

Brianna stood with one hand by her side, the other around the strap of her handbag. Her straight blonde hair fell just past her shoulders, over the dark red jacket zipped to her neck. He could not wait to see more…all of her. The night they made love was incredible, but he hadn’t a chance for a repeat. He would, though…and this time without their clothes. He wanted to lay in bed, savour every detail of her beautiful body by kissing each slope and dip of her curves…