Killer Temptation (3 page)

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.

Unbelievable.
The heel of her shoes almost dug through the silky, red carpet as she stormed over and tapped her on the shoulder. Amber whirled around. The smile on her face dimmed.

“Any luck?” Brianna asked, the sarcasm in her dry tone obvious.

“Excuse us a moment.” Amber stepped away from the gorgeous guy.

“Sure,” he said. “I’ll get us a drink.” He disappeared through the crowd.

Amber kept her smile until she turned to face her. “I went looking for her, but Mr. Sexy over there stopped me to chat. Let her be. Rachel’s a big girl. She can take care of herself.”

She shook her head. Trust Amber to give up so soon. “I’m going to find her, but you continue doing what you’re doing.”

“Really?” Amber beamed. “Thanks.” To her frustration, her cousin sauntered away.

No, not really
.

To hell with Rachel’s feelings, she planned to give her the lecture of a lifetime when she found her. She turned another corner so fast she didn’t anticipate hitting a wall. Vertigo made her vision blur, and she shut her eyes, palms flattened against the solid mass for balance...touching.

Walls aren't warm or chiselled
.

"Care to go somewhere private,
chérie
, or are you all right feeling me up here?" The French accent seeped into her senses, heating the very blood running through her veins. Brianna froze, eyes fluttered open and took in the stranger in front of her. No question with regards to the solidness, but he was no wall. On a slight groan, she staggered back.

You,
she almost said, but stopped herself.

"Sorry," she muttered, her face hot with humiliation. "I wasn’t watching where I was going."

"I can see that."
His grin, oh how it melted her insides
. "Are you lost?"

I must seem like a complete fool.
She shook her head. "I can't find my sister."

The man surveyed the ballroom with a scrutiny that told her how impossible it was to find anyone in the crowded room. "
Bien entendu
, she's most likely off enjoying the celebration. Maybe you should do the same." The way he spoke wasn’t what made her heart drum into a wild beat. It was the smouldering heat in his eyes. "I'm Tristan Delacroix," he introduced, holding out his hand.

Hesitant at first, she placed hers in his. Breath caught in her lungs when he lifted her fingers to his mouth. Firm lips swept over her knuckles as he held her gaze with a heated stare. Everything around them evaporated, as though they were the only two in the hall.
Hell, in the world
. His eyes promised safety and shelter. Total perfection.

"Bri-Brianna Johnson," she mumbled, her fingers humming and tingling. Could her hand be having an orgasm?
Get a grip, Bri!

"
Brianna
, nice to meet you."

The way he pronounced her name, she never knew it could sound so smooth…or foreign. The soft, low tone of his voice gave the impression he read lyrics to a beautiful song rather than her name. She wanted to hear it again, in every way. To shout it, whisper it, grunt it as he thrust deep inside…

"Where are you from?"

"America," she rushed out, unable to remove the delicious, naughty image from her mind.

He cocked one dark blonde brow. "I detect a southern drawl in your tone."

"I live in Tennessee. I don't have to guess you're from around here."

"Not here per say. I live in the southwest of France. But…” He clicked his tongue, brows furrowing. “I managed to come to Nice with my family for the occasion."

She inclined her head. "You sound as though they forced you to come?"

"
Non
,
non
, my family is still a bit wary of the reconciliation. We debated on whether or not we should come tonight and almost did not make it." His gaze trailed over her lips, as though fixated on them. "But I’m glad we did."

Warmth heated her cheeks again. She thanked God for the dim lighting in the room.

"I know you’re searching for your sister, but would you care to dance?"

Dance, to this orchestra music? She’d have less chance of embarrassment if she sung on stage. But the idea of dancing with this man, with him holding her tight…if he could cause her hand to tingle with a mere brush of his lips, then being in his arms would no doubt make her feel as though she could fly.