Killer Temptation

by Willis, Marianne

  “I need to kill some time. I’m waiting for someone to arrive.” Those full lips curved into a smile, but her gaze averted to the floor as though embarrassed.

  “This someone must be very special to make you grin like a schoolgirl.”

  Cynthia blinked. “Yes. He’s very special. We’ve been apart for so long, but I believe tonight will be a new beginning for us.”

  The sad tone caused an ache in her chest.

  “Sorry, I do not mean to babble. I’m just nervous,” Cynthia muttered.

  “No, that’s okay. You must really love this man. It’s nice. You don’t come across that type of love nowadays.”

  Cynthia shot her a look, brows furrowed. “What? You don’t believe in true love?”

  True love? Maybe before she dated the devil, Percy, who destroyed her beliefs. Well, that wasn’t true. Her adopted parents were a fine example of true love. Yes, she did believe, but did not think it was something she would ever experience. She might be aware of the mystical world she lived in, but never deluded herself with the fairy-tale concept of love.

  Cynthia laughed when she didn’t answer. “You will when you find the right one.”

  Had what she thought left her mouth? Or did Cynthia read facial expressions well? “I doubt it. For some reason I always end up in difficult relationships.”

  “Oh, trust me.” She nodded with enthusiasm. “True love is meant to be difficult, but worth believing in and definitely worth fighting for.” Cynthia used pins along the sides to bind the lace onto the dress. “Bien, now for the stitching. This dress has to come off.”

  Brianna headed to an empty stall. Carefully removing the dress, she unzipped the side, eased the material past her hips and legs before stepping out and passing it over the door. Half-naked, she crossed her arms over her chest and waited. “So, you’re popular amongst your kind,” she called. “What’s that like?”

  “I enjoy what I do, but there are always limitations because of the laws.”

  “Laws?”

  “Vampire laws. Our traditional world doesn’t take well to modern style. The dresses I design for my kind are beautiful, but they are vintage. I’m grateful for the Annual Armistice Celebration. It gave me a chance to address the council about designing clothes for when we visit the surface. Once they granted me permission, I started on the designs running through my head. The dress I’m wearing now was the first one I made.”

  The Armistice Celebration was into its third year anniversary. After centuries of war, the three species laid to rest their grudges and threats. Each race agreed to a truce and were dedicated to working together for a better future. This made thousands happy—although, some still remained sceptical.

  Her family hadn’t gone the first year because they had travelled to Australia on a holiday. And last year…she swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. Last year, she and Rachel had mourned the loss of their parents. “Your dress is stunning, by the way,” she said, adamant on changing the direction of her thoughts. “I assume you made a great deal of dresses for this one night.”

  “I’ve worked hard for months and conceived so many fashionable ideas, but not all vampires like the new style. Some wish to stick to the usual traditional gowns. But, that’s just the world I live in, very different from where you’re from, I imagine. Is this your first time in Nice?”

  “Yes. Your country is very beautiful.”

  A husky laugh drifted over the stall. “Well, it’s unfortunate to say I’ve only ever seen this country at night. I would love the opportunity to go out during the day, but no vampire in their right mind risks such a thing.”

  Okay, so vampires could not go into daylight. She’d always wondered about that. Books and movies were not reliable sources of information, and even her know-it-all cousin, Amber, was unsure which theory was true. “I hope I don’t seem rude, but I’ve heard so many rumours about how you age in the sun, and some say you burn to ash. Do you mind telling me what is true?”

  “A Pure like me doesn’t enter sunlight because I’d burn, not into ash, but the skin of a Pure in many ways is similar to those who suffer with cutaneous Porphyria. Our skin is sensitive, and in sunlight we suffer blisters and burns. An Impure ages in the sun. Have you ever seen one?”

  “No.”

  “Consider yourself lucky. An Impure in sunlight isn’t a pretty sight. Their age catches up to them. So, those who have lived for thousands of years, it shows in their skin. Imagine a rubbery yellow, almost green coloured flesh.”

  “I am.” Brianna scrunched her nose. “I’m not getting a pretty visual.”

  “It doesn’t end there. We can’t forget the overlapping age-spots from head to toe, and the abundant amount of wrinkles.”

  “Enough, Cynthia. Or you’ll make me puke.”

  “Sorry.”

  She detected a sliver of amusement in the apology, but before she could respond, a shadow caught her eye. She glanced at the petite hand holding the dress over the door. “Thanks.”

  She slipped into the dress. The spandex material still hugged her figure, but the black lace that started from her hip and arched out to the hem made her grin. The sensation swirling through her veins was so consuming, almost like fizzy bubbles that made her feel invincible. Confidence. The emotion hadn’t greeted her in so long she'd almost forgotten what it was like. Swinging back the stall door, she strutted to the mirror. “This looks better than before. You’ve worked magic.”

  “No, that’s your family. I just did what I do best. But maybe you should consider removing your underwear.” She pointed at the noticeable string of her thong from beneath the lace. “I must get going.” Cynthia swept her items off the basin and into her big handbag. “It was nice meeting you, Brianna.” Her tone held genuine delight. “I hope you enjoy your time here in France.”

  “Cynthia,” she called. “Thank you and good luck with your man.”

  Cynthia winked, and then left.

  She faced the mirror once again. No underwear? She had worn dresses without underwear in the past, but none of them revealed this much leg.

  Oh, what the hell. She fumbled beneath the dress, hooked the thin material with her fingers and tugged the elastic down. To complement her new look, she withdrew the clip at the back of her head, allowing her straight, blonde hair to fall just above the slight slopes of her cleavage.

  A sense of pride enveloped her. She'd handled the Caroline situation quite well, but now she must show the rest of the supernatural that even though human, Brianna Johnson wasn’t one to mess with. Shoving the thong and hair-clip in her purse, she made her way out of the bathroom. If tonight brought her any more chaos, she only had one thing to say; bring it on.

  Chapter 2

  The performance on the dance floor was over. Across the ballroom, her sister and Amber sat on barstools, heads almost touching as they chatted. Brianna squared her shoulders and took long, catwalk steps. Several men did a double take as she sauntered past, captured by the lacy show of her leg. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning like an idiot.

  The two gossip queens caught sight of her.

  Amber beamed a bright smile.

  Rachel’s mouth dropped open. “Brianna,” her sister exclaimed. “How did you—”

  “I’ll explain later, just tell me what you think.”

  “I love it!”

  She squeezed between them and held out her hand to the bartender. “Excuse me, could I please get a glass of champagne.”

  The man nodded and unhooked a flute glass that hung from the rack above him.

  “Do you have anything stronger than this?” Rachel tilted her glass.

  The bartender poured the golden liquid, gaze on her sister. “No,” he said in a rich French accent.

  Rachel glared daggers at the man, huffing and turning on her stool.

  Amber elbowed Brianna’s side, brows raised with a knowing stare. “Fourth one,” she mouthed.

  Brianna gnashed her teeth to quell her building
frustration. In a room with the world’s most powerful creatures whom have warred for centuries and were in the early stages of reconciliation, and her main concern centred on her drunken sister. She’d just have to distract Rachel as best she could.

  The man handed her the champagne and turned to serve another customer. At the bottom of the sparkling beverage sat a hibiscus flower. Wasn’t the elaborate setup enough, did they have to outdo the champagne as well?

  Guests made their way to the dance floor, their tables, the buffet and the bars. Rachel’s high-pitched laughter snagged her attention. Amber gave her best impression of Uncle Tom’s grumpy attitude by puffing her cheeks and furrowing her brows as she imitated his sullen tone. She loved when the three of them got together like this, joking around and having a great time.

  Her sister raised her empty glass, but Amber placed her hand over Rachel’s, lowering the crystal flute before she alerted the bartender. “I wish I was allowed to bring my camera,” the young witch said, diverting Rachel’s attention. “Just think of the snapshots I could have taken of this beautiful place.”

  “If you did, you’d have worked all night instead of hanging out with us,” Brianna told her. “Isn’t that right, Rachel?”

  "Ooh yummy," Rachel drawled, gazing beyond them. Another distraction, thank goodness.

  She grinned, recognising the expression all too well. Rachel must have spotted some eye-candy. Seeking the direction of her sister’s gaze, numbness engulfed her from head to toe. The air travelling through her lungs vanished. Amongst the busy room, he stood out, whoever he was. With lithe grace, he ambled forward, accompanied by a group of tall men in dark suits.

  “They’re here,” Amber giggled.

  Brianna could not avert her eyes from the one in the middle. The grey shirt and trim black pants fitted his strong physique, and made him appear a true gentleman. But his swagger told her he was much more. The epitome of otherworldly.

  Shades of dark blonde hair shone beneath the dim light of the large crystal chandelier high above his head, hair that was cropped short and styled with neat elegance. He possessed a strong, square jaw, high, narrow cheeks and firm peach-hued lips. A faint scar marked his left cheekbone. The most impressive emerald gleamed in his eyes, like the neon lights of an aurora sky. The image of running her fingers along the scar and watching his eyes close filled her mind.

  Goodness, she drew in a deep breath. Could he be any sexier?

  "You do know who they are, don't you?" Amber squeezed between the two gaping sisters.

  Rachel hiccupped and shook her head. "Who?"

  “Girls, don’t you research who attends these balls?”

  “No,” Rachel snickered. “We can’t all be skanky stalkers like you, Amber.”

  “Well, if you’d done your homework, like me, then you’d know what sexy singles are here tonight.”

  Rachel rolled her eyes. “Just tell us who they are.”

  Amber forced out a breath. “Fine. They’re councilmen of Désuet; a powerful and influential group to their vampire race.”

  Councilmen. Cynthia had said something about the council and the old-school laws.

  “What the hell is Désuet?” Rachel asked, taking another gulp of her champagne.

  “Where’d you get that?”

  “This?” Rachel asked, swirling the drink. “It was just sitting here.”

  “Hey, that was mine,” Amber whined.

  “I think that should be your last one,” Brianna said, and Amber nodded in agreement.

  “I think you should stop thinking.” Rachel released a loud burp, followed by a timid giggle while holding the flute glass over her lips. “Oops.”

  “Anyway,” Amber said into the awkward silence. “Désuet is the underground cave for the French colony of vampires. I don’t have a clue where it is, but I've heard so many things about it. It’d be pretty cool to visit one day.”

  “An underground cave?” Rachel snorted. “No thanks. You just want to visit there so you can scratch it off your ‘to do it’ list.”

  Ah, Amber’s ‘to do it’ list. Instead of a normal ‘to do’ list, Rachel insisted their cousin kept a list of all the places she planned on having sex.

  “For the hundredth time, Rachel, I don’t have a ‘to do it’ list. But if I did, then yes, Désuet would be marked down.” She grinned, snatched back her glass and tilted it in a salute when Rachel gasped.

  Brianna fought back a laugh and fixed her stare on the man. He looked up, their gazes met and held. His mouth parted, and the warmth of his breath tickled the slope of her neck. The hard muscles of his body pressed against the front of her dress. Her stomach gave a little flip. Impossible, he was too far for her to experience physical contact. Thousands of tiny magnets beneath her skin tingled, urging her forward...closer. Strange, how the powerful sensation consumed her. She had been around different species several times, but never had this effect. Could something she ate or drank be playing with her system? She did not think so. Besides, from the intensity in his emerald eyes, she sensed he encountered it too.

  A man with dark hair slapped his shoulder and muttered something. Even though he acknowledged the man, his focus remained on her. At the last moment, he turned and strode through the crowd. A twinge pierced her chest when he looked away.

  Rachel hiccupped again and faced the bartender. “Hey, you. You there!” She clicked her fingers to snag his attention.

  He threw the dish-cloth over his shoulder and stared at Rachel.

  “Yeah you,” her sister confirmed. “Go ahead and pass us a bottle of champagne. Save you the trouble of refilling our glasses every few minutes.”

  This had gone too far. Rachel had always enjoyed a drink or two, but since their parents’ deaths it seemed she couldn’t have fun unless she drank herself blind. Brianna bit her lip, thinking of a way to stop her. She'd confronted Rachel a few months ago, but her sister had thrown a tantrum, claiming she didn’t have a problem.

  “Sorry, Miss.” He kept his smile tight, irritation expressed in his deep accent. “I cannot give you the whole bottle, only one drink at a time.”

  Rachel’s eyes formed into tiny slits, both palms smacked against the bar-top. “I think you should gib-us-di-hol-bottle.”

  The bartender tilted his chin, nose flaring and eyes blazing at the scene Rachel made. Those who stood nearby scowled, but her sister did not notice as her focus remained on the man in front.

  Shame burned her cheeks. “Rachel,” she said with a calmness she didn’t feel. “Let’s step away from the bar—”

  “No.”

  “Do I have to call security?” the bartender asked.

  “No!” Both Brianna and Amber said in unison.

  “Listen to Brianna,” Amber insisted, seizing her purse. “Let’s leave the bar. We could go for a walk in the garden.”

  “Shut up, Amber. Go off and screw someone already.”

  “Hey,” Brianna snapped, this time taking hold of Rachel’s arm. “That’s enough.”

  “Don’t you start on me again. I told you last time, there is no problem, so stop thinking there is. You are not my mother or father. Technically you’re not even my sister.”

  “Rachel,” Amber hissed through clenched teeth. “Are you listening to yourself? This is not you.”

  The horrible words sunk deep. Brianna swallowed, the grip on her sister loosened a little.

  Rachel tugged her arm free, bent over the wooden bar-top and snatched a bottle of champagne.

  Grunts and gasps murmured around them.

  “Ha-ha,” she teased the Frenchman. “Try and catch me now.”

  The bartender leaned over to snatch back the bottle, but Rachel shot off the stool and raced through the party.

  “We’re sorry.” Amber’s act of contrition was hesitant, as though on some level she understood the man wouldn’t be concerned about a flimsy apology.

  “I’m calling security.” Yep, he didn’t care how sorry they were.

  “No, don�
�t.” Brianna clasped her hands and shook them before the bartender. “Don’t call security. We’ll find her,” she said, pointing to Amber. “And we’ll return the bottle.”

  She took hold of Amber’s arm and stalked through the crowd. “I can’t believe she did that. Does she have a death wish?” She wasn’t sure which of the species the bartender was, but he seemed ready to tear Rachel apart. Her sister knew better than to start trouble at this event.

  Amber shot her a look, eyes sympathetic. “Are you okay?”

  A breath huffed past her mouth. “She’s just drunk, right? She didn’t mean it.” Her voice was soft and weak. Could that be doubt in her tone?

  “Of course she didn’t, Brianna. She loves you. We both do.”

  She nodded, hoping that was true for Rachel. When would her sister learn getting drunk was a temporary fix? Brianna wasn’t deaf; most nights she heard her sister cry herself to sleep. Rachel might feel buzzed, but come tomorrow she’d wake up with a massive headache and still no parents. Until Rachel realised drinking wouldn’t solve her problems, she would continue to be miserable. “Let’s split up and try to find her. We don’t need another big scene.”

  “I say let her be. Give her a chance to calm down. I know you didn’t want to be a party-pooper, but we should’ve stopped her from drinking.”

  “Well, let’s at least get the bottle back before the bartender calls security.”

  Amber nodded, looking for something in her purse. “I’ll call you if I…oh crap, we can’t call each other. We left our phones with our coats at the front.” All electronic devices had to remain behind the clerk’s desk. “Let’s meet back here every fifteen minutes.”

  Brianna proceeded toward the far end of the hall, watching out for a woman with a bottle of expensive champagne. She checked each bar, bathroom and all the patios.

  Fifteen minutes passed by. With any luck, Amber had found Rachel. She dashed back to their agreed meeting spot. Her cousin hadn’t found Rachel, but she had found a handsome hunk.

  Amber threw back her head, laughing and flirting with a man near the dance floor.