Killer Temptation (20 page)

No one stood outside. Had Tristan forgotten? Had his brothers gone on a break? A smile arched her lips. This would be easier than she imagined. She shut the door behind her, headed down the long hallway, recalling the route she took with him last night, and how it led to an open space. Nerves raked her body, making her shiver.

She didn’t know her way out of this cave.
No, I made it out of that room. That’s a start.
Besides, Tristan or his brothers would soon realise she had run away, and no doubt send a whole vampire army after her.

She descended the same set of stairs from last night. The hallway on her right was her best bet, since the one on the left led to the main ballroom. She hoped this trail led to an exit. The smooth floor silenced her steps—thank goodness for her sneakers—but she kept looking over her shoulder just in case someone spotted her, or followed. She turned the corner.

“And I told him he should consider his future. I just don’t know what to do anymore.”

“Don’t let this get to you, Lydia. Your boy is only sixty years old. It’s a phase he’s going through. It will pass.”

Brianna swung back around, hid against the side of the wall as two British females strolled by. This time she stole a peek. The women were further down the hallway, entering a room. A few others stood in the distance, but the chatty group didn’t notice her. She darted out from behind the wall, but kept close to the shadows. The long staircase on her left felt like her best choice and she descended the steps. Torches lit the dark place, thank goodness; otherwise she’d be lost in darkness. There must be a way out. She passed several empty rooms, coming across another staircase.

Down the stairs, she found, yet again, another vacant room. Smoke shadowed the air and she frowned, looking left, then right. Had a fire started? Was someone in trouble? She rushed around another corner, ran into a hard object and staggered back. She had knocked into a vampire.
Oh crap
.

He was about her height, wore steel capped boots, a brown leather apron and tatty welding gloves. Ash and smudges of coal covered him from the top of his white-blonde hair all the way down to his thick boots. He must be a blacksmith of some sort.

“
Vous êtes qui?
”

“Um, sorry. I don’t speak French.”

He blinked. "Why are you down here?" His tone held surprise, brows furrowed with confusion.

"Oh, you speak English. Hi.” She smiled with a bravado she did not feel. “I’m…um, I’m just touring the cave, that's all."

He surveyed their surroundings, as though unable to believe she wanted to tour this part of the cave. "You shouldn’t be down here alone." His hand rested on her back to guide her around.

“Oh, but I’m not by myself,” Brianna swung and faced him. “My, um,
moitié
will join me soon…he told me to meet him down here.”

"Your
moitié
?" His nose tilted, breathing in the air. “Strange.”

“What?” Did he smell something on her? Brianna checked herself over.

“I smell a bond, but it is weak. I’ve never come across a person with a weak bond. Who is your
moitié
?”

“Tristan. He’s in a council conference, but should be down here any minute,” she said with what she hoped was a convincing tone.

“Tristan Delacroix?” His thin lips stretched into a grin. “You are the human girl everyone is talking about.”

Ah, yes. Cynthia mentioned she and Tristan were the talk of
Désuet.
“Yes,” she said, heat filling her cheeks. She never liked being the centre of attention.

His eyes danced over her body, brows furrowed. “Were you not given custom clothing when you arrived?”

“Oh,” she muttered, rubbing her slick palms down the long shirt. All this questioning made her nervous. “Where I come from we only wear formal gowns for a special occasion, like a dance.”

Where I come from?
She made it sound as if Mars were her home planet.

“Odd.” He shook his head. “In
Désuet
, women wear the dresses on a regular basis out of respect to our heritage. It’s tradition.”

“Right. I must have missed the memo in my welcome pack.” She laughed, trying for a joke, which did nothing to lessen his bewilderment. “Well, I’m sure in time I’ll adapt.” She offered a polite smile, hoping he’d drop the subject.

“Everyone is on a break, and I’m about to head up myself,” he said, eyes roaming over the ceiling, “but I don’t mind showing you around before the councillor gets here.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Brianna insisted. “Go on your break, you must be starved—I mean, thirsty. I’ll be fine.”

“
Bien
.” He shifted with an awkward pause. “I just find it strange Councillor Delacroix wants to show you around down here. There’s nothing interesting about soot and ash, or even the vents. He should be taking you to the Le
Château
restaurant or even the
Détente
day spa.”

Vents? And Bingo was his name-o!
“Well, this is a little embarrassing, but you see, Tristan and I haven’t quite gotten along since I’ve been here.”

Those brown eyes widened, and the vampire leaned forward. “Yes,” he whispered. “I have heard many stories, but gossip most of the time is simply that.”

“Well, in this case it’s true. We’re doing better, and I want to atone for my mistakes by showing him how much I can learn about
Désuet
. So he came up with this idea of touring the place and said we shall start with the vents, but I forgot his directions. It’s so easy to forget which is where and what is what." She gave a clueless grin, holding out her hands. “This place is huge.”

"Yes, huge indeed.” He chuckled, pointing past her shoulder. “This long, downward hallway leads to the vents."

"Sounds great. You know what will be better, if I could impress Tristan with my knowledge of his world. Maybe you could tell me a little bit about these vents?"

The vampire wiped soot off his brow with the back of a gloved hand and smiled. She got him!

And the Grammy for best actress goes to…Brianna Johnson.

"The tunnels lead up to the surface."

Surface! Oh thank god!

"The vents have been here since the first constructions to
Désuet
. When we do go up them, it is for maintenance, but takes at least two hours to crawl all the way to the top.”

“Interesting, and how often are they maintained?”

“Once a month. Just to clear out any build-up of leaves and twigs. Of course, this must be done at night. No vampire risks going up there this time of day."

Daytime. Good, if she climbed high enough, they’d be unable to come after her. Two hours crawling would be worthwhile. She could do this. "Yes, of course. Thank you. I’m sure he’ll be very impressed when I mention this. So, I guess I'll just wander around a little more before he arrives."

"All right, but don't get lost."

She waved and continued down the rocky hall. The smooth floor beneath her merged into cobble, dirt and pebbles. She took slower, steadier steps down the unstable hallway. When she reached the end, she turned a corner.

Row after row of large, gated holes aligned the dark stone wall. Several lit torches sat between the spaces of each vent, shedding little light.

Drip. Drip
. The splashing sound reverberated from one of the vents at the far end. Other than the splash of water, the place remained quiet. So noiseless in fact, ghosts did not bother residing here. The vents seemed big enough to crawl through, but gosh, they were dark. Old, rusty handlebars embedded inside trailed upward until they disappeared within the darkness. Without a torch, or at least a cell phone to light her way, she would have to rely on the feel of the handles. It should be all right. She bit her lip.
Right?

Okay, time to put on some big girl panties and toughen up. Brianna stepped to the closest vent, bent down and lifted the gate. Her arms shook, holding the heavy steel open and popped her head inside the dark space. It reeked of…well, crap. Scrunching her nose, she drew back.

This better lead to the top and not some sewage passage.
No, the vampire said these were the vents. She had the right tunnels.
I can do this
. Her whimper echoed in the darkness.

I must do this.
The horrible scent and complete darkness would not stop her. She stepped inside, and shut the gate behind her.

Bending down, she clung onto the cold handlebars and climbed. Frigid air sank under her clothes and into her skin. No doubt fog puffed with each breath. She used her feet to tiptoe across the lower bars and extended her hands for the rails above. Her thoughts centred on what awaited on the other side rather than the sudden fear trembling down her spine. Not the type to be easily spooked, but anyone climbing a quiet, pitch-black tunnel all alone would feel uncomfortable.

She bit her bottom lip. Her heart felt bruised and swollen at the concept of leaving. No goodbye, no…nothing. Why did it cause so much pain? She had to leave. Regardless of this
moitié
bond between them, she could never be his.

Her breath quickened, puffing from her lips. How long since she started climbing? At least a half hour. Unable to tell if the crappy scent lingered, maybe she had adapted to it, or couldn’t smell a thing through her cold, numb nose.

Her eyes hadn’t adjusted to the darkness, but she sensed where the handlebars were and seized them with swift speed as she climbed. Her body warmed from the swift exercise, and even though she grew tired, she didn’t care. She wanted out, far away from this place as possible.

She shook her head, aware the distance between her and Tristan did nothing to lessen the throbbing pain in her chest. She fought a losing battle with herself. It didn’t matter. The loss of her heart was nothing compared to her honour to her dead sister, or her family.

She froze in the darkness, her rasping breath left her lips. Did she just hear something? Or was her lack of sight playing tricks with her mind? Her eyes squinted through the black void. Useless, she couldn’t see a damn thing…

Eeek!
Jeepers, what was that high-pitched sound? Another shudder ran along her spine. No, not just any sound, but a screech.

Eeek! Eeek!

There sang another, and another, until hundreds of high-pitched screeches rang the air, and the whoosh of flapping wings drew closer. Brianna squinted through the darkness. What was it?

Eeek! Eeek! Eeek! Eeek!
Bats! No doubt an entire colony. Something smacked her head. Brianna screamed, lying flat against the handlebars with her arms over her face. She had no way of counting how many bats flew past, hitting the top of her head, her back, arms and legs. One passed through her hair, the leathery wing of another glided past her arm, the furriness of another smacked against her hand. They weren’t attacking her, but just the feel caused violent tremors to rock through her body.

The darkness was one thing. No sense of direction was another. But, Bats! Now she’d had enough. She could not bear this. The high-pitched screech sound grew faint; proof of the colonie’s distance. She still trembled, unable to stop the agonised sob mixed with the terror-retching scream that shot past her throat.

“Brianna?”

Her head shot up. Tristan. He called her name again, his voice layered with worry, grief and the slightest bit of anger. “Tristan,” she cried out, her voice wavering with the uncontrollable tremors raking through her body. “I’m up here.”

“Brianna!” he called again. Through the darkness, a swift booming sound reverberated up the tunnel, much faster than her steps had been.

Of course…his vampire speed
. She peered down. A white spot blurred in the far distance. The glow grew bigger, and before long she spotted him a few feet below, lantern in one hand, its brightness illuminating his taught face. The worry, grief, and anger ringing from his voice a moment ago now expressed in his features.
Oh yes
. His agape mouth confirmed his concern. The gleam in his eyes infused with a stark pain, and the set of his firm jaw defined his indignation. Of course he’d be furious with her. She had left his room, attempted to leave the cave. At that moment none of that mattered.

“Tristan,” her voice broke as another sob rushed past her lips.

His expression softened, but only a little. His hands extended for the remaining bars, and he wrapped his free arm around her, holding her tight. She welcomed his embrace.

“You’re trembling.” His breath brushed her forehead.

“I’m scared.” She shut her eyes, but the tears still fell down her cheeks and into his shirt. “So scared.”

“Don’t let go of me. I will get us out of here.” Something strange happened. The air around them changed, becoming warmer. A moment later, light fell over her shut lids. Her eyes cracked open, gaze on the wall with its lit torch. Tristan must have somehow teleported them here.

She stared at the low flames, the fire weaved together in a dance. Fear drained away as tears of relief pooled down her cheeks; seeing the light after crawling through the hollow darkness was such a blessed experience.

Her cheek still lay against the charcoal material of his shirt. She veered back to survey him. His eyes were shut tight, sweat dotted his brow, and his face twisted with pain. She had never seen him like this. What was wrong?

“Tristan?” Her voice wavered with concern. He didn’t answer, but winced as he fell backward. He held her tight against him, taking the brunt of the fall. A moan left his lips when they hit, as did another when he shuffled to a sitting position. She shifted between his legs, eyes sweeping over him, to determine his condition. No blood marked his skin or his clothes. So he wasn’t hurt. Had that little flashing thing made him weak? “Are you okay? Talk to me.”