Killer Temptation (2 page)

Stepping into the tiled room, a rusty scent hit her nose. Dim, aqua blue drop lamps hung from the ceiling above the large mirror. A set of four ivory, marble basins lined the wall, and a row of stalls stood to the left. All the fundamental fixtures accustomed for a prestige restroom, except for the dark-haired woman in a gorgeous red cocktail dress with a daring show of her cleavage who stood by the basins. The woman's eyes held shut in ecstasy as she shot back a vial of red liquid.
Blood
. Not just anyone’s blood? A label with the name “Maurice” covered the vial. Could be a donor. A shudder ran through her at the thought.

The woman stilled, perhaps aware of another presence in the room. Brown eyes snapped open and landed on her, nose flaring as a small smile stretched her full lips. "A human." Her surprised tone was soft like a passionate melody, yet coaxed with a strong French accent.

“What? Never seen one before,” she shot back.

“Not an unmated one at these events, no.”

Great
. Vampires were able to identify someone’s relationship status.
I guess they don’t need Facebook.
“How do you know that?”

“I can smell the blood running through your veins. You are unclaimed.”

Did a single relationship status make her a more convenient meal because she had no attachments? She shook her head, bile rising up in her throat. "I just want to make clear I'm not a snack on tonight’s menu. I'm here with my family...a witch clan."

The vampire’s shoulders slumped. "Damn." She threw the empty vial in her handbag. "I would’ve liked a fresh meal."

The sudden stillness in the room grew unsettling, and she had to wonder if the vampire now smelled her fear?

A husky chuckle broke the silence a nanosecond later. "Relax, I’m kidding. I can’t bite you even if I wanted to. In fact, I should be more concerned about you biting me. I know how you humans can’t resist a fine wine."

Fine wine? Brianna could not laugh at the jest. Her sour mood was in the way of her sense of humour.

Taking the remaining steps to the basin, the material of her dress fell open, exposing her pale outer-thigh.

"Did someone get too close to a werewolf’s claw or a vampire’s fangs?"

Folding the flapping material several times in hopes the garment weaved itself back together was pointless. She might as well go home now. Ha, perhaps that was Caroline's intentions all along...the cow. "I had a run-in with a witch."

"I assume you’re not friends."

"Far from it, we’ve known each other since high school, but she hates me because I dated her ex."

The vampire placed one hand on her sexy, curvaceous hip. She possessed a body most women would kill for. Full breasts, tiny waist, toned arms and legs. Big brown eyes shaped with long, fanned lashes, a fall of black wavy hair and a pair of lush lips with a perfect cupid’s bow. She resembled a European supermodel. A pang of jealousy smacked her in the chest.

“And for that she rips your dress? Well, that’s just uncalled for."

Tell me about it
. "I guess I’ll leave now.” She shrugged. “I can't walk around all night like this."

The vampire shook her head and stepped closer. "No, you cannot leave. If you do, you'll let the other woman win."

Then Caroline won. She wasn’t in the mood to play games. Maybe Caroline had a point; she shouldn’t even be here. She wasn’t a witch, or any other supernatural species. She was just Brianna.

A mischievous grin stretched the vampire’s lips. "You better lose that pout, because I have an idea." She dumped her handbag on the marble counter to search its contents. What the vampire rifled for, Brianna hadn’t a clue, but could not help being curious.

"Ah-ha, I knew I kept it."

She withdrew a long square piece of black lace then dug in the side pockets of her bag and retrieved a silk box. Brianna smacked her lips together which did nothing to stop the laugh slipping out and echoing in the bathroom. "Will you pull out a sewing machine next?"

The vampire cocked one shaped brow. "That, I left at my boutique, but the material is from the final touch-ups of a friend's dress."

"Are you a seamstress or a designer?"

"Both. Amongst vampires I’m quite popular. Now, stand here.” She pointed to the empty spot in front of her. “Let me see what I can do."

Brianna once again studied the split up her thigh.

What do I have to lose?
She crossed the space between them and settled her purse on the vanity. The vampire opened a silk box, withdrew a pair of scissors, needle and thread, and set them down in a neat row as though she was a surgeon preparing an operation table. She dropped to her knees, examining the damage. The vampire’s scent wafted beneath her nose; roses and wine.

"I’m Cynthia, by the way." She smiled with genuine warmth, taking hold of the scissors.

“Brianna.”

Cynthia took hold of the hem, snatched the pair of scissors and cut at the material until the terrible split formed into a long triangular arch. She then fitted the lace beneath the dress. “Hold down the top with your hands.”

She complied, palms flattened over the lace material on her hip. “Thanks for doing this. You most likely have something better to do than be stuck here helping me.”

“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.