“It’s one of those canned soups. I heated it in the pot and added some veggies.” She lifted her spoon, swallowing a mouthful and her eyes bulged. “I did add extra salt, which I see now wasn’t needed.” She rushed to the sink, fetching an empty glass.
“Poison would’ve tasted better,” he called out.
“Give me a break,” she said, sipping more water. “I’m no Martha Stewart. I’ll order us some pizza.”
“You’re a witch.” He rolled his eyes. “Can’t you create a spell to make it nice?”
She placed the now empty glass in the sink. “Witches don’t use magic every minute of every day, you know.”
“No, of course not,” he mocked. “Just on special occasions to trap people or kill them.”
“I told you I’m not trying to kill you.”
“Yes, but you admitted you tried killing Tristan.”
“Crap.” She shook her head. “I forgot I let that slip. Not that it’s any of your business, but Tristan killed my cousin Rachel, and Brianna begged for my help to avenge her sister’s death.”
He might not know Tristan all too well, but the man didn’t seem like a killer. “Too bad she didn’t beg you to jump off a cliff.”
“Ha-ha.” Amber half-grinned. “I don’t see what your problem is. You’re the bad guy in all this.”
Him, the bad guy? After everything she did to him and everyone who did not meet her lofty standards? “You sure about that, witch?”
Her foot hit the bin pedal, and she paused before dumping the empty soup cans in the trash. “Actually, no, I’m not. I bet you’re a real softy inside, Chayton.”
Was this her way of tormenting him? “What makes you say that?”
“Well.” She shrugged. “You’ve threatened me, but you haven’t laid a hand on my brother.”
“First, I don’t harm people who’ve done nothing to me. And second, yeah, Lucas may be in on this, but he isn’t the one who placed me under a spell. My vendetta lies with you.” Always has.
“I can’t believe you’re still mad about the Keeper Spell. Wouldn’t you do the same for your family or the ones you loved?”
“Yes, without question.” Although he held no control over the words, he would have given the same answer. The pack meant everything, and he could not wait to lead. Of course, until he found his mate he wouldn’t be able to. Finding her was much tougher than he imagined.
The one destined for him had a set of three freckles across her neck, another three down the centre of her spine, and three amidst her lower back, his exact marks. His match. His mate. Whoever and wherever she was, he’d find her.
They hadn’t spoken through a telepathic link yet, but there had been a few nights where they dream-shared. While he couldn’t obtain a good visual of her appearance, she seemed to be a strong-willed woman. Although, the last dream he had transformed into a nightmare…
“I bet you wouldn’t have hesitated doing the same to me if our positions were reversed.” She focused on wiping the countertop with a damp sponge.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Their heads shot up in unison.
“That’s strange.” She glared toward the living room. “Lucas has a key, so he would not knock, and the clans aren’t due for another hour.”
Oh shit! Better not be Ian. What if she casted a spell upon his best friend? He followed her out of the living room and into the foyer. Dammit, why didn’t Ian listen and stay away? Chayton would do whatever to stop her placing his friend under any damn spells, even if that meant suffering physical pain.
She swung the door open. Chayton jerked at what he saw. Amber all but turned to stone, and he did not blame her. This was unbelievable, almost impossible.
“Hi, cuz,” Brianna Johnson said, smiling.
Chapter 4
This had to be an illusion. Amber struggled to swallow the heavy weight in her throat. Heat immersed her eyes, causing her vision to blur. Her cousin resembled a gothic goddess in the black floor-length gown, so different than the usual jeans and t-shirt. Grey eyes and shoulder-length blonde hair hadn’t changed, and a healthy glow hued her cheeks.
Amber extended an index finger. The digit shook as she poked the figure standing in the doorway. Soft skin met the pad, sealing it with warmth.
Brianna’s thin lips curved into a wide smile. “Well, are you going to just stand there, or say hello?” she asked, wrapping Amber in a hug.
The slender arms holding her tight verified her doubts. “You’re here,” Amber whispered. How? Had she broken out of a cave full of vampires? Or fought Tristan for freedom? Tears ran down her face, dripped off her chin and onto her cousin’s chiffon-covered shoulder. “I was so scared for you.”
“I’m fine. I have so much to tell you.”
“You can start with how you escaped Désuet?” Chayton demanded behind them, his voice abrupt.
“Who are you?” Brianna veered back.
He crossed his arms and positioned his feet apart like some pro wrestler. “Never mind who I am? What have you done with Tristan?”
Amber rolled her eyes. Trust the jerk and his cantankerous attitude to rein in on their reunion.
“She has done nothing. I am perfectly fine,” replied a soft French accent.
A startling chill danced down Amber’s spine. Behind her cousin emerged a tall man with cropped blonde hair, emerald eyes, and a faint scar across his cheek. He, too, dressed in black Victorian-style trousers and a fitted charcoal shirt. When his gaze strayed from Chayton to Brianna, he smiled.
Amber clutched her cousin’s wrist, and swung her thin frame behind her. Arms outstretched, she blocked Tristan, and hoped she gave a levelled look of warning. How long had he been standing there? If he planned to take Brianna, he could think again.
She’d throttle him with her bare hands if the lowlife vampire harmed a single hair on her cousins’ head. “Don’t mess with me, bloodsucker. Or you’ll regret your actions.”
From the corner of her eye, Chayton had scooted forward. She was like a Chihuahua between two Great Danes. Chayton couldn’t overpower her, however, so at least she had one of them tamed.
Tristan raised his arms in surrender. “I mean no harm.”
“He’s telling the truth,” Brianna insisted behind her. “Tristan flashed me here to see you.”
“What?” Her tongue smacked the roof of her mouth. Why did her cousin defend him? “He abducted you,” she threw over her shoulder, “kept you prisoner in Désuet.”
“Yes, I know,” Brianna agreed and tugged Amber around to face big grey eyes begging for understanding. “And so much has happened. Come inside, I’ll explain everything.”
Brianna bypassed her, took Tristan’s hand, encouraging him to step into the house, and shut the door. Chayton and Tristan exchanged nods, then followed her cousin into the living room.
“What is going on?” Amber beseeched.
Brianna grinned, mouth agape, but the sound of the front door opening made her pause.
“I’m back,” Lucas said in the foyer. “The witches will be here any minute.” He entered the room, placed the briefcase along the wall, and straightened. His smile dimmed, face paling. “Brianna?” Surprise mitigated his tone.
“Hello, Lucas.” Delight made Brianna’s voice sound lyrical, as though she returned home from vacation rather than being taken by her sister’s killer. “Good thing you’re here, because I don’t have the patience to repeat myself.”
Lucas staggered forward. “I’m confused.”
“I have something important to announce.” Brianna inhaled a sharp breath. “Tristan didn’t kill Rachel.”
Amber gasped. No, that couldn’t be right. The night after the Armistice celebration, Brianna swore she’d seen Tristan murder Rachel in that alley. Had Tristan somehow convinced Brianna he was innocent? “Don’t forget what you saw—”
“I know, and it wasn’t Tristan, but Maurice, his twin.”
“A twin?” So, the deadly kiss spell, and the revenge on Tristan h
ad been aimed at the wrong man? Amber raked a hand through her hair. She could have executed an innocent. If that spell had worked, she’d be a cold-blooded killer. Tristan snaked Brianna’s small waist, and Amber frowned. “Are you two together?”
“Yes, we are,” Tristan said. “I love Brianna. Of course, the idea of me killing her sister destroyed her feelings. You see, my brother had escaped a rehabilitation centre the night he killed Rachel.” His gaze shifted to Brianna, shame coloured his strong cheekbones. “Despite the fact he is now in confinement, it doesn’t change what happened. I’m very sorry, if only I had—”
“Tristan, don’t.” Brianna placed a finger to his lips, observing him with such adoration. Her cousin was in love with the vampire! “We talked about this.” Brianna stroked Tristan’s short hair. “You’re not to blame.”
Tristan’s small grin didn’t quite meet his eyes, and Amber guessed a lifetime would pass before he forgave himself. “Why didn’t you tell me, Bri?” she asked, a slither of anger leaked its way into the relief at seeing her cousin. “I’ve been so worried.”
“We learned the truth two days ago. I would have called, but I’ve been dying to see you.” Excitement glittered in her eyes. “I’ve missed you, Ambs.”
Chayton fired into their small circle, finger pointed at Brianna. “Let me get this straight. You’re both happy to walk off into the sunset together—well, Tristan would suffer third-degree burns if he stepped out into daylight...” He shook his head, ceasing his rambling. “That’s not my point. You two are together, so there’s no need for a rescue party. How the hell does this help my situation?” He secured Tristan’s shoulders. “You gotta help me out of this mess.”
The vampire tilted his head. “I don’t comprehend. What trouble are you in?”
“The night I delivered your letter, Amber placed me under a spell.”
Brianna shot her a look, and mouthed, “Who is this guy?”
“Werewolf,” Amber mimed in response, but accentuated the answer by mimicking a snapping jaw with her hand. Not exactly the best impersonation of a wolf, but her cousin understood.
“I’m stuck with this witch for a whole week until the spell breaks. This is killing me. Please, Tristan. I would not be in this situation if you hadn’t made me deliver the letter.”
Tristan sighed. “I cannot help you. I don’t know how to reverse spells.”
“Oh, come on.” Knuckles grew white when he squeezed the vampire’s shoulders. “How’d you overcome Amber’s death spell?”
Oh, no! Amber whirled to face Lucas. Her brother’s eyes widened.
“Now, wait a damn minute. First I find out this man’s twin killed Rachel and not some random vampire,” he said, pointing to Tristan. “And now a death spell?”
“Lucas, I, um...” Now wasn’t the time to be at a loss for words.
His face reddened, and his nostrils flared. “I can’t believe you performed a death spell. It’s forbidden,” he gritted.
“Don’t blame her,” Brianna threw in, patting Lucas’ back for sympathy. “I asked for help. In fact, I begged until she said yes.”
“She could have said no.” Lucas clutched Amber by the arm. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? You’re risking the Johnson name. If the other clans find out, they’ll demand your magic be removed and forbid you from practicing witchcraft.”
“Will you relax?” She shrugged out of his hold. “Can’t you see it didn’t work?” She pointed to the very much alive Tristan.
He rolled his eyes. “You’re missing the point.”
Brianna surged between them, her pleading gaze on Lucas. “You’re not going to inform the other witches, are you?”
“Why not? This will finally teach Amber a lesson.”
Desperation made Amber step forward without thinking. She clutched her brother’s face and forced him to stare into her eyes. “The clans will be here soon. I’m sorry I’ve never given you a reason to be proud, but if there’s any part of you that cares for me at all…you won’t do this,” she whispered. “Please, Lucas.”
An emotion close to pity flashed in his eyes. Lucas’ stared from her to Brianna, and his taut jaw relaxed. “I’ll keep this to myself, but I’m at risk, too, now. So let me make myself clear. This must never happen again. Okay?”
“Got it.” Brianna nodded.
“Of course,” she added.
“Well, then,” he said. “We’ll just have to tell the Elite families a rescue plan is no longer required. In fact, they’ll be thrilled to see you, Brianna.”
“Who knows how long until I come back to visit.” Brianna swivelled to Tristan. “It’d be nice to see everyone. Can we stay awhile?”
Tristan’s eyes softened. “As you wish, ma chérie.”
A twinge coiled in Amber’s gut. Why the stun? Of course Brianna planned on leaving with Tristan. She was his moitié; only her blood ensured his existence. Besides, her cousin was exultant, the happiest Amber had ever seen her. But what did this mean for them?
Her gaze strayed to the coffee table against the far wall, at the framed picture of them sitting on the floor with junk food and candy, the last girls’ night they had before leaving for the Annual Armistice Celebration, before Rachel’s death turned their lives upside down. With her cousin living in an underground cave in France, she wouldn’t see her as often as she liked.
“Hey,” Brianna whispered, gaze also on the picture. “I always think about that night.”
“I love the scrunched-up expression on Rachel’s face, and the way you’re pointing and laughing,” Amber said, rolling her eyes at her own stance. “I’m the only one posing a duck-face.”
“Rachel had popped a sour ball into her mouth without realising.” Brianna closed her eyes for a moment and smiled. “I remember she hated anything sour. Who took this photo of us, anyway?”
“The pizza delivery guy.”
Brianna nudged her shoulder. “That’s right. You kept hitting on him. I’m pretty sure you got his number.”
The façade had gone on for so long, not even Brianna knew the real her. Anger coursed through Amber’s veins. Oh, how she hated displaying a front to make herself seem like a girl who had everything. Her teenage years were finished.
While she resented the person from her past, she didn’t know what felt worse, not knowing who she was, or letting others believe she was a fake. The notion alone left a foul taste. All those wasted years pretending to be someone destroyed her chance at a real, honest friendship with the people she cared about.
“Hey, Ambs?” Her attention reverted to her cousin. “Seeing as all the witches are heading here, I might go change into some normal clothes. They won’t understand the customs of these black gowns every woman wears in Désuet.”
Amber didn’t understand it either. “Of course. Everything’s in your room where you left it.” Her gaze directed to the floor. “So, I guess we don’t need to finish the talk about me moving in.”
“Don’t think for one minute we won’t keep in contact.” Sorrow etched Brianna’s tone.
Amber shrugged, and bit the side of her cheek, restraining the torpedo of emotions swirling in her chest. “Yeah, but it won’t be the same.”
“You’re my little cousin, and I love you.” Brianna wrapped her in a hug. “If you need me, call. You know you can count on me, right? Say the word and I’ll have Tristan flash you to Désuet.”
She sniffled, resisting the urge to never let go. Brianna was the one person who kept her sane, her true sense of family, and soon they’d have to say goodbye. When would she see her next, Thanksgiving, Christmas? “I love you, too. Now, go change into some real clothes or you’ll scare the clans.”
Brianna snorted a laugh. “Please. There’s a werewolf and a vampire in the house; the attention will not be on me. I know how wary the witches are. I hope we can reassure them when they arrive.”
“The clans will be more excited than scared once we explain. Plus, you know how peace-hungry the Elite are.”
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Brianna gathered a handful of her dress. “Very true, the Elite will do anything to achieve a reputable status. I won’t be long.”
Brianna sailed upstairs, and Amber faced the others. Chayton perched on the sofa, scowling. Tristan and Lucas were in deep conversation about his vanishing potion.
Must he brag to everyone? She’d rather drink a glass of razors than join their discussion. Wasn’t it bad enough she was constantly reminded of his success, especially now, looking at Tristan. The reality of her failure smacked her in the face.
Then again, she created the kiss spell to destroy the one who killed Rachel. Maurice murdered her cousin, so of course the spell hadn’t worked on Tristan. She rubbed her temples. Was that the real reason, or did she downright suck at witchcraft? Maybe both.
“Where are you two going?” she asked when Lucas grabbed his briefcase, and led Tristan into the kitchen.
“I’m showing Tristan my potion.”
Of course he was. That left her and Chayton. He sat with one knee bent, the other lay across the floral cushion. Rigid muscles outlined the red pinstripe shirt. The outfit did not suit him, and yet, he still managed to make her stomach flutter.
She blinked, averting her gaze to his face. The slight tweak of his lips confirmed he’d busted her checking him out. Heat scorched her cheeks, and she cleared her throat. “I guess the Keeper spell had been for nothing,” she said into the awkward silence.
“No shit. Now I’m stuck here because of it,” he snapped.
“You know I can’t change what happened. So, just stop with the pity-party.”
“Oh, I’ll stop when I’m done with you.”
Showing how little she thought of his threats, she stifled a fake yawn, and spun away. Something ensnared her wrist, and yanked, causing her to swivel and fall on his chest. “What the hell!”
Her body flattened over his…and he felt good. Warm, safe. She inhaled his sweetgrass and woody herb scent, and her eyes shut of their own accord. Walking barefoot along tall grass in the wonderful place of wilderness and a dancing campfire occupied her mind.
Why did he remind her of the recurring dream? Yes, he had appeared in the last one, but no point reading into the stupid coincidence. He had been on her mind when she had fallen asleep, and therefore disturbed her thoughts.
Hateful Desire Page 5
