Killer Temptation by Willis Marianne

Author:Willis, Marianne [Willis, Marianne]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fantasy, Witches, Vampires and Shapeshifters
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press, Inc
Published: 2013-05-24T21:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

Boom. Boom. Boom.

The drums echoed in her ears, making her squirm against the sheets and the silk to rub over her bare skin.

Wait! Bare?

Her eyes shot open. She sat upright and glanced down at her naked body.

Boom. Boom. Boom. The drumbeat grew louder.

Where the hell did that noise come from, a parade? And why am I naked? Her breath, shallow and rapid, fogged in front of her. From the corner of her eyes, a figure caught her attention. Tristan lay on his side, one hand to support his head, observing her. He wore an odd, black, V-neck cape along with a satin red shirt. His hair resembled Dracula with the widow’s peak hairline and—she gulped—his fangs were elongated. “Tristan? What’s that drum sound?”

“Tis the sound of your heart, ma douceur.”

Really? She rubbed away the sleep and stared. Did he just speak in archaic English?

He sat up, bending over her, his cape gliding over one shoulder. His wide, frantic eyes locked with hers, similar to a thief who spotted a chest of glimmering jewels. Brianna shrank back, almost slipping beneath the silk sheet. Solid fists pressed into the firm mattress on either side of her waist. “Tis your heart pumping blood for I.”

He observed her the same way her customers stared at a slice of double chocolate cake.

“Tr-Tristan?” His name stammered with caution.

His lips drew back. He’d always had a pair of fangs, but she never remembered them being so long, so…lethal. A growl rumbled up his throat; the sound ferocious. Those bright, piercing green eyes that equated pure evil reminded her of a wild animal; ready for the kill, but happy to enjoy the hunt. Brianna stopped breathing. To run was impossible; to hide, just as bad.

I’m as good as dead.

He advanced. Sharp, violent teeth sank in the crook of her neck…

She jerked awake, a fiery burn scratching her throat. Warm tears ran down her face as she screamed. Like an asthmatic, she took in mouthfuls of air to drown out her hysteria. Her heart thumped out of control, as if someone punched her in the chest and the organ struggled to retain a normal beat.

“What on earth?” Across the room, Tristan shot off the couch he slept on, searching the room for any threats. “What is wrong?” he demanded.

A dream, just a bad dream. The beating sound did not belong to her heartbeat, but the knock coming from the door. “Nothing,” she croaked.

A breath of frustration puffed from his mouth. He stalked to the door and swung it back. Cynthia sauntered in the room with a bright smile and several long garment bags stacked in her arms. Her raven hair in a big, round ballerina bun atop her head, and she wore a simple black floor length gown with long sleeves.

Brianna wiped away the tears with the back of her hand before either of them figured out she had been crying.

Stupid, stupid nightmare.

“Sorry to wake you both. I thought you’d be up by now.”

“What time is it?” Tristan asked, shutting the door.

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