Killer Temptation (19 page)

****

The miracle at hearing those words was incredible, as if the heavens opened and let heat touch his skin for the first time in his long existence. Since meeting Brianna, he always considered her the sun. He frowned at the coincidence. Not for the simple fact of her blonde hair, golden complexion, or because she brought the most light into his dark world, but whenever he touched her it made him wonder if warm sunrays felt the same.

She was his personal orb, a living entity that had the power to hurt him…yet, unlike the brightest star in the sky, he was willing to die to have one night with her.

Tristan fit the head of his shaft at her entrance, and surged forward. A groan rumbled past his throat at her hot tightness. He gazed at her, mouth parted, breath surging in rapid pants. No words needed to be exchanged, he understood what she wanted. He lowered his lips over her small, supple ones. She gave into him completely, her tongue meeting his with soft, gentle strokes. He drew his hips back, slow and deliberate, then slammed forward. Sharp nails deep in his back told of her desperation as she scratched up his neck and slid her fingers into his hair.

Night after night, he craved this, longed for her hotness around him, gliding in and out of her. His palms roamed down her arms, over her waist and caught her hips. He shifted position and sat up on his knees, still clutching her, flexing her body back. Her fingers slipped from his hair, legs secured around his waist as he pumped faster. Behind her, she stretched her arms and held onto the big silk pillow.

Here she was, back arched, breasts high in the air and crying his name as he gave all. A sheen of sweat glistened over the pink hue between the valley of her breasts, lower lip caught between her teeth, grey eyes at half-mast and glazed with desire.

Beautiful. Gorgeous. His
. She clenched around him, eyes shut as she drove up to meet his urgent thrusts.

“Tristan,” she panted his name over and over.

“Do it. I want to feel you come,” he encouraged. As though his words ignited her body, she shattered around him. A long, lustful moan cried past her lips. He had never seen anything more beautiful than her climax. He dug his fingers into the sides of her thighs, bending over her. Her eyes still shut when he kissed her. She returned the kiss with a fiery passion that matched.

The pumping of her racing heart rang in his ears. He edged back, gaze running from her face to her clavicle. Something about her collarbone made her so sexy, maybe because he wanted to sink his fangs beneath the skin and gain the nourishment denied in the last month. His head lowered without contemplating his actions, mouth easing open…

“Tristan?” Her cautious tone made him pause. Then, he remembered the look of fright when Mikel had held her. The notion of him feeding scared her, and the last thing he wanted to do was terrify his
moitié
. He turned his face and ignored the urge to bite her delicate neck. Her hands wandered up his arms, anchoring herself upward. Face to face, they stared at each other, mouths almost touching. Her palms ran over his chest and shoved. She did not have the strength to budge him, but he took the hint, leaning back until his body fell against the mattress at the foot of the bed.

She straddled his waist.
Dieu
, could she be any more beautiful? Her hands flattened on his chest, hips rising up his shaft, sliding downward with sure, urgent thrusts. He gritted his teeth at the severe pleasure each pump of her hips gave. The mix of sweat with her wild orchid scent, the heat of her body, and her moans invited all of his senses. Raising himself on his elbows, he concentrated on her face, her body, riding him, working him. He had no control over his grunts and moans, or the heat consuming him. Perspiration dotted his forehead, trickled down his neck and the line of his spine.

Another groan. He was closer now, losing himself. His head fell back, and he roared at the ceiling as hot seed shot from him. A scream met his and he observed Brianna. Total bliss captured her features, erupting from another climax.

Limp, quivering, she fell against his chest, head in the crook of his neck as they both lay in one breathless mass. He bent forward and stared at her closed eyes. They weren’t shut tight, but slumberous with relaxation from the aftermath of their lovemaking. He kissed her damp forehead, wrapped his arms around her waist, and turned on his side, holding her. The rise of their chests made perspiration brush between them. Still on the opposite side of the mattress, he didn’t bother shifting them to the head of the bed.

The delicate image of her struck his heart like a lightning bolt. “Are you all right,
ma chérie
?”

“Hold me. Just hold me,” she whispered.

He did not reject the request and kept his arms around her. “What we shared was incredible. Emotions like this cannot just be from a bond. We have something deeper.”

The soft sound of her breathing and normal heart rate made him wonder if she had fallen asleep. “Are you still with me?”

“Yes. I’m just listening,” she murmured, snuggling closer to his chest. He wanted to ask if she felt the same way, but heat warmed his cheeks at the likelihood of her rejection. Right now he should enjoy the afterglow, pretend this was just another day for them, instead of the possible truth that could bring his world crashing down.

“Tell me something, Brianna? About your life, your childhood, anything.” He wanted to know, learn everything about this woman.

“There isn’t much to tell.”

“How about the type of child you were. We never had a sister growing up, but my brothers and I always scared the girls playing tea parties with their princess dresses. Cynthia still hasn’t forgiven us for it after all these centuries. Were you like that as a child?”

She snorted a half-laugh. “No, not at all. Ripped jeans and baggy t-shirts was my style. I was a tomboy through and through.”

“Ah, I guess you wore a backward cap also.”

“In fact, I did…a red one.” Silence lingered. “What about you? Did you dress in princess dresses when you scared Cynthia and her tea-party?”

He chuckled, the sound almost foreign. “No. We dressed as pirates, of course.”

“Oh, of course,” she mocked. “You’ve known Cynthia a very long time. It’s nice that you have fond childhood memories.”

“She was a little brat, would follow us around everywhere, especially my brother…” He stopped, nudging the thought aside, before it had a chance to destroy his mood. “Enough about me. Tell me more about you.”

“I was shipped from foster home to foster home as an infant, then placed in the Tennessee Children’s Home.”

“What about growing up there?” He struggled to imagine a life like that, coming from a big family with both parents and four brothers.

“It was…” she trailed off, as though unable to find the right words. “Lonely.” A quivering sigh hissed past her lips, running through him and causing another twinge in his heart.

“I had one friend, but friends weren’t mothers or fathers. I felt trapped in that place, and yet I could do nothing but endure it. Most nights I cried myself to sleep, feeling so unwanted, not understanding why other children were being adopted and not me. The day the Johnson’s adopted me was the best day of my life. I’m forever grateful to them for taking me out of that place.”

Guilt shot through him, sudden and intense. For most her life she had felt imprisoned in an orphanage, and now he kept her prisoner again. He struggled to swallow the lump in his throat. He wanted to ask more, learn more.

Brianna yawned, and he shut his mouth.

She needed to rest. He wouldn’t ask her any more questions for now. The fact she didn’t shove him away, but was content to remain snuggled in his arms made him grin.

The doubt clouding his mind moments ago slipped away.

If anything, their lovemaking proved their bond. She might not tell him tonight, but she did love him. He hoped she would realise and admit it before it was too late…too late for them both.

Chapter 11

It was late, or early. Hell, it might even be midday, she didn’t know. Brianna stared at the ceiling. Strong arms wrapped around her, holding tight, as even breaths passed over her shoulder. Every limb hummed at the memory of what they’d shared, and how they exploded in each other’s arms.

After their brief talk, she’d closed her eyes and pretended to sleep. The conversation about her family made her remember a past she now looked back on with pain. As the silence thickened, Tristan had fallen asleep. And she lay awake, waiting for something terrible to happen, for the anger to burst forth. All she felt, however, was satiated.

She turned and faced the sleeping man next to her. His soft breathing and relaxed features stirred warmth in her chest. Temptation to touch him tingled through her fingers, and she bit back a curse. The anger she expected didn’t exist, or maybe it did, but she was too tired to revel in it. Being with him had been so beautiful. She frowned at her choice of words: beautiful? It shouldn’t have been. She shoved the negative emotion aside, not quite ready to face reality.

With a tentative hand, she traced her fingers across his cheek, over the indented scar and along the line of his jaw. She enjoyed the funny sensation in her stomach, the slight imprint of happiness, and after tonight… A silent tear trailed down her face. Tomorrow she would deal with the guilt. Her eyes drooped and she drifted to sleep; hoping daybreak took its sweet time.

****

Brianna cringed, unable to recall when she had fallen asleep. She’d had sex with Tristan. The reality roused her.

You chose him over your sister once again
. A sly voice echoed through her thoughts.

Her eyes shot open, mouth agape, a gasp caught in her throat.

It was true, she did. The first time had been at the Armistice Celebration, when she took off with him rather than seek her sister, and last night, choosing the pleasure he gave over honouring her dead family, one that had done everything for her.

What have I done?
Shrinking back into the mattress, she hesitated, her eyes shifted to the ceiling, down to red silk sheets, then at last, the spot beside her. Empty. He must have positioned her to the head of the bed before he’d left. A white sheet of paper lay on the pillow. She sat up on her elbows and snagged it.

Dear Brianna.

I must attend a meeting this morning, but I'll be back in your arms in no time.

All my love,

Tristan.

He wrote,
all my love. Love?
The word sent vibrations through her. The single syllable became an awakening, an undeniable truth that pumped in sync with each beat of her heart.
Love!
Bile rose in her throat, replacing the mellifluous emotion.

Oh, no, no, no.
Tears stung her eyes, so hot as though she sniffed sulphur. Salty drops ran along her cheeks, over her chin and down her neck. She loved her sister's killer. Unable to deny it any longer, he held her heart. He had it from the first time she laid eyes on him, but it wasn’t right, and could not go on. Even if she wanted him, and every part of her ached to be with him, what sick person continued a relationship with the man who took her sister's life? She ran her hands through her hair, nails clawing at her scalp.

“I love him,” she cried. Last night she struggled to sleep, but now she realised she hadn’t wanted to. She hadn’t wanted the night to end, to wake the next day and face reality.

Guilt and shame ground her up from the inside like a school of piranhas. She sniffled, rubbing her face with the back of her hand. He said he didn't do it, told her he never killed anyone. Yes, he'd said that, yet that didn’t change what he did. Her shoulder’s sagged, forcing the tiniest bit of hope to disappear. Why he lied, she did not know. But, she wasn’t blind. She knew what she saw, and would rather die than disrespect her sister's memory by continuing this relationship. Only one thing left to do. She must leave. Now.

Brianna shot from the bed and ran to the closet. Grasping both iron levers, she flung the doors back. Several shades of dark shirts hung on the left. Tristan had made space for the new clothes Cynthia gave her. The gowns draped in neat order off the rack on her right and she scanned through black dress after black dress.

Dammit. She could just see herself tripping over the long gowns in her flight. These were not appropriate for fleeing a cave. She yanked open one of the drawers beneath the rack, rummaged through the sets of folded lace underwear, and found a pair of thick, black pantyhose…thick enough to pass as leggings.

This will do.
She sifted through his shirts, stole a grey long-sleeved one and slid into the soft cotton. The material fell to her knees, but was better than the alternative. She tied a leather belt around the shirt, then made her way to the bathroom and slipped into her waitress shoes.

Her shoulders slumped when she reached the door.

Crap. What am I thinking?
The door would be locked, not to mention guarded by those vampire goons known as Tristan’s brothers. “Think, Brianna,” she muttered. If she wanted her plan to work, she needed to find a way to pass them. Okay, she could trick them; bang on the door, fake an emergency to make them open, and run past them…. No, maybe if she convinced them to take her to Tristan, and then lose them on the way…

Air puffed from her lips. They would never believe her. She laid her head against the door, closed her eyes and listened to the silence. She was doomed to remain down here…wait! Silence? Pressing her ear against the thick wood, she waited for the mutter of voices. Nothing.

A speck of hope sparked inside her. With gentle precision, she secured her hand around the handle and twisted. The knob turned with ease, and her brow rose to her hairline. She opened the door with care. “Impossible,” she whispered.