Pretty When They Collide
By
Rhiannon Frater
“Pretty When they Collide”
a “Pretty When She…” story
Copyright © Rhiannon Frater 2013
www.rhiannonfrater.com
PubIt! Edition
Cover Art by Claudia McKinney of Phat Puppy Art
Edited by Felicia A. Sullivan
Interior Formatting by Kody Boye
This is a work of fiction. The characters and situations are from the author’s imagination.
Other Books in the Series
Pretty When She Dies (#1)
Pretty When She Kills (#2)
Pretty When She Destroys (#3) release date Summer 2013
Dedicated to all the fans who demanded more Aimee and Cass after reading Pretty When She Kills. This is for you.
Part One:
Las Vegas
Chapter 1:
Masks, Lies, and Games
Cassandra wished the vampire would just shut up and take her to his suite already. The Vegas casino was noisy, smoky, and crammed with tourists pouring change into the penny slot machines. She needed to get the vampire away from the crowds and into a more secluded place so she could snatch the relic she had been hired to steal and kill him.
Besides, her feet were aching in her stiletto heels and the sleek red dress covering her lean, athletic body was starting to creep upward. Though she was dying to yank the sparkly material down over her muscular thighs, the vapid party girl she was portraying would do no such thing. To add to her discomfort, the vampire was a leg man. The cool, almost papery feel of his hand on her leg indicated that he needed to feed soon, and she hoped he would consider her the perfect meal. She squirmed a bit, hoping her mark would interpret her movement as arousal and not discomfort.
“You’re a good luck charm! Look! I just won again!” The vampire grinned, his hand sliding higher to just under the hem of her dress.
Faking an enthusiastic smile, she clapped her hands with glee. “Wow! You’re going to be rich, Asher!”
Laughing, the vampire caressed her thigh. The sensation made her skin crawl, but Cassandra kept a flirty smile on her face while she watched him shove more quarters into the slot machine. Her mark resembled a certain fictional vampire on a popular television show, but she could see his true face hidden beneath the vampire glamour. As the daughter of a vampire and a mortal, she had many of the powers of the vampire and not as many limitations. Because she was a dhamphir, Cassandra possessed the ability to see through vampire illusions. It was disconcerting being able to see the ruddy, pockmarked face of the vampire beneath the handsome visage he projected. The lush blond hair shimmered over his own colorless thin fringe that ringed a huge bald spot, and his eyes were not a piercing blue, but instead a muddy brown. Cassandra had to concentrate on not allowing the double image to throw her off her game. Anyone passing by them would see a beautiful young couple with gleaming blond hair and perfect bodies that were obviously in lust with each other.
The image was a complete lie.
It amused Cassandra.
Twirling a lock of her fake hair, she snuggled against the vampire as he watched the spinning numbers and images of the slot machine while she furtively observed the vampire’s human guards keeping watch on not only the casino, but also her ass. Which, of course, is what she had planned. A distracted guard was exactly what she wanted.
“See! I won again! You are a good luck charm, Britney!” The vampire pressed a kiss to her cheek. His lips were so cold. “My sweet blond goddess.”
She giggled vapidly.
Whereas she could see through the vampire’s glamour, he could not see through hers. Cassandra’s broker had secured a high quality witch spell for her. In the last two years not one vampire had been able to see through the false countenance until it was too late. The glamour spell Cassandra was wearing gave her the appearance of a young woman with long blond hair and the type of carefully sculpted and plumped up face favored by Hollywood D-listers and porn stars. To support the illusion of long hair, she wore clip-on extensions in her chin-length chestnut brown hair. The glamour hid her unusual eyes that altered color depending on her mood, a gift from her supernatural origins. A push-up bra managed to make her small breasts look voluminous. Of course, she also had a few extra items she would need later tucked into the lining of the lingerie.
Everything about her appearance was tailored to draw the attention of Leonard Klein, a former pharmacist who now went by the name Asher. Leonard served a powerful vampire out of Los Angeles who sold occult relics. Cassandra’s broker had dispatched her to grab the latest relic that Leonard was transporting to a client. His death was an added bonus as far as Cassandra was concerned. Leonard loved to leave pretty blond bodies in his wake. He had been a serial killer in his mortal life, but had never been caught. Whenever she was dealing with the criminal denizens of the supernatural world, she liked to know exactly who she was dealing with, for she had no compunctions about eliminating some of the more deadly monsters.
Leonard’s hand inched ever higher on her leg, but she had to refrain from her instinct to punch him in the face. Instead, she leaned closer to him, her arms draped around his neck. “Asher, I’m bored now. You won all that money. Let’s go upstairs and celebrate.”
It wasn’t the smile on his fake handsome face, but the sneer on his real face that made it difficult for Cassandra to maintain her playful, pouty expression.
“I think that’s a wonderful idea, Britney.” His hand slid under the hem of the dress.
Cassandra playfully twirled away from him, extending her hand in invitation. “Let’s go!”
He immediately took her hand and kissed it. “I have a feeling you’re insatiable,” Leonard said, his true face flushing with dark desire.
Flashing a wide grin, Cassandra said truthfully, “You have no idea.” She had deliberately not fed so that she would not only appear human to vampires, but also not register in their preternatural instincts as anything other than mortal. Being a dhamphir meant being able to subsist both on food and blood, but without it, just like a vampire, she was greatly weakened.
A pack of weary travelers wandered past them on their way to the check-in desk. The Stratosphere was on the far end of the strip, away from the newer, flashier casinos, but it was still a big draw with its gleaming white tower and observation deck. There was a no-man’s land between the older casino and the newer ones. Construction sites lined the boulevard and sported huge signs announcing new casinos with even more exciting attractions. Cassandra suspected that Leonard had deliberately picked the casino with the lower priced hotel rooms that would draw single young women of a certain economic status while providing a great dumping ground for their bodies just a short distance away.
Leonard looped one arm around her neck, dragging her against him. She could feel his power pushing on her mind, trying to force impressions of a hard, muscled body into her thoughts so she wouldn’t feel his doughy flesh and skinny frame. She pretended it worked, staring up at him rapturously. It was difficult to walk with his arm holding her against him, forcing her off balance, but she managed to keep from tripping in her red high heels with their shiny silver stilettos.
“I’m so glad I found you, Britney. I really thought I’d have a boring time in Vegas waiting for my flight out tomorrow night. But when I saw you at the bar, I just knew you were special.”
The vampire pushed lustful thoughts at her, trying to arouse her. Instead, he w
as making her a bit sick to her stomach. Everything about him from his nature to his voice was making her want to bash his face with her fists. Even his fake name, Asher, sounded like some terrible name from a paranormal romance novel. Her ex-girlfriend had always read the sorts of books with covers of the main character’s tramp stamp in clear view as she struck a pose in a leather outfit that would make Catwoman blush. Of course, her ex had also teased Cassandra greatly about her resembling the heroines in those novels. Cassandra had been both annoyed and slightly amused. She had never even told her ex about her true nature, or her side job. That her ex could see her as a kick ass supernatural heroine was somewhat of a compliment, though unnerving. Cassandra worked hard to look anything other than what she truly was when dealing with the monsters.
It was a very long walk to the elevators. Teetering on her high heels, Cassandra was relieved that Leonard’s guards strode in front of them, clearing a path through the throng of revelers. A group of young women stared openly at Leonard, trying to ascertain if he was really the celebrity they suspected him to be. His disguise was a good indication that Leonard was not that clever in the end. It drew far too much attention. From the way the young women were behaving, it was clear that they would have made perfect victims for the vampire. Cassandra liked to think she was saving them from a terrible fate.
The banks of elevators had a horde of people gathered in front of them, clutching drinks or dragging luggage. The elevators only led up to certain blocks of floors, and Leonard’s guards wedged their way through the throng, managing to open a space before one of the elevators designated for the floor where Leonard’s suite was located. The two men looked remarkably alike with their shaved heads and expensive suits, though one was Hispanic and the other black. They had the same meaty face, square shoulders, and barrel chests.
“Asher, why do you have guards? Are you famous?” Cassandra asked, her fingers dancing over the collar of his blue silk shirt.
“I’m not famous. I just look like my famous cousin,” he lied boldly. “The guards are for my business. I’m important in my field of work. I deal in industry secrets.”
“Ooooh,” Cassandra said, exaggerating the word.
“I’m in computers,” Leonard continued to lie.
“Wow. Like that Apple guy?”
“Exactly.” Leonard smacked her ass playfully. “Just like him.”
Cassandra made a mental note of all the things she would like to do to Leonard when they were alone. None of which were particularly nice.
The elevator dinged open and they had to wait for the people packed inside to shuffle out. Leonard quickly steered her inside and the guards blocked the doors immediately. When a few tourists tried to push their way past the big men, they were shoved out. The doors closed and the elevator started its long climb. Leonard took advantage of the ride, nuzzling her neck, nipping her ear, and running his hands over her body. Cassandra endured it, giggled, and pretended to enjoy it.
Two years of modeling in Paris when she was a teenager had taught her just how lecherous men in positions of power could be and how they sometimes regarded beautiful women to be a perk of their status. Leonard was definitely one of those types. It had only taken her a few minutes to draw his attention and for him to assume she was his for the night.
When the doors opened, Cassandra giggled and playfully pushed him away. The faces of the cluster of people gathered in the corridor depicted a gamut of expressions from disgusted to intrigued. Leonard guided Cassandra past them, preening proudly beneath his glamour. Cassandra had to fight not to roll her eyes.
“Do you want to know something funny? I’m just staying here one day, so I didn’t get one of the bigger suites, but I did get the Romance Suite. Isn’t that perfect? It has a huge garden tub,” Leonard said, guiding her along the long corridor.
“Oh, wow! I love those! It’s like a little swimming pool!” Cassandra wondered if she could sound any dumber and decided to give it a whirl. “But why do they call it a garden tub if it doesn’t even have a garden? It just doesn’t make sense!”
“You’re exactly right! It doesn’t make sense,” Leonard agreed. “You’re such a smart girl.”
Cassandra smiled at him, thinking how he was such a dead man.
At the door to the suite, Leonard made quite a show of pulling out the keycard and swiping it. The guards lingered in the corridor, back to back, studying the opposite ends of it.
“We’re going to have such a good time, my little Britney,” Leonard whispered, licking her lips.
“You have no idea, Asher!” Cassandra answered, twirling her fake extensions again.
One of the guards moved toward the door and Cassandra placed her hand on his arm. “Oh, no, no. I don’t do group things.”
“Stay outside, Ramon. It’ll be okay.” Leonard winked and pushed the door open.
“I’m here to guard the package, not you,” Ramon answered tersely.
Flustered, Leonard yanked Cassandra inside, anxious to shut the door. “Well, everything is safe in here.”
“I’m supposed to guard the package until delivery,” Ramon responded. “I’m coming in.”
“I think I broke a nail,” Cassandra wailed, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible.
“You’re still beautiful,” Leonard assured her, while trying to keep Ramon outside. His hand pressed against the other man’s chest, he said, “I promise you, Ramon, it will be just fine. This is the only way into the room.”
“Let him get laid,” the other guard interjected. “Shit, man, I’d like to get me some of that, so don’t cock block like an asshole.”
Ramon hesitated, then finally acquiesced. “Fine, but I need to check the suite first.”
“Well, hurry,” Leonard ordered imperiously. “Time is of the essence.”
“Whatever,” Ramon grumbled, brushing past them into the suite.
Cassandra made a big show of filing one of her red acrylic nails while the burly guard examined every possible hiding space in the room. While he searched, Cassandra furtively scanned the room, memorizing the layout. Finally satisfied, Ramon sauntered to the door.
“Remember, the boss arrives soon. So whatever you’re going to do, make it fast.” Ramon gave Cassandra a contemptuous look.
She winked at him. Ramon frowned.
With a triumphant smile, Leonard slammed the door in the guard’s face.
In one swift motion, Cassandra lifted one foot, grabbed the heel, hit the concealed button releasing the stiletto from her shoe, and punched it through Leonard’s heart. The silver in the heel instantly paralyzed him and he toppled into her arms, his glamour vanishing.
“Good boy,” she whispered in his ear. “We don’t need any noise.” Tossing him onto the bed, Cassandra straddled him and rested her elbows on his chest, staring into his terrified brown eyes. His pockmarked skin drained of color when he caught sight of her teeth sharpening into fangs. “I’m so glad you finally got me alone. I’ve been starving all night. And I really hate foreplay, so why don’t we get down to it?”
The paralyzed vampire’s eyes widened in fear. Unable to call out, move, or fight back, he was as helpless as any of his previous victims. That thought made Cassandra’s smile grow into a terrible grin seconds before she sank her sharp teeth into his cold flesh and drank his undead blood.
Chapter 2:
The Beautiful Prisoner
The bright lights of Vegas reflected off the darkened windows of the limousine as it rolled along the boulevard. It was close to ten in the evening and the sidewalks and walkways were packed with tourists. Some were dressed in their flashiest outfits, while others were in shorts and t-shirts. Children skipped alongside their bedazzled parents while elderly couples strolled hand in hand admiring the exploding volcano nearby. It was a wild, bright paradise that promised anything a person could desire.
Yet, the excitement of the revelers left Aimee cold. She knew what lurked in the shadows and hid behind the sparkling veneer. It wa
s difficult not to feel morose when she knew that some of the enthralled people visiting Vegas would never leave it alive.
“I can’t imagine what this place will be like in another hundred years,” the man beside her said thoughtfully. “Of course, I’ll be around to find out and if you play your cards right, so will you.” Lifting Aimee’s hand to his cool lips, he pressed a kiss to her knuckles.
“I may outlive you, you know. No one knows how long a witch’s lifespan actually is,” Aimee answered in a dark tone.
“That’s right. Your kind usually ends up dead at a very young age by nefarious means. You’d best try to avoid that.” His voice was smooth as silk, but there was a subtle threat there.
Dressed fashionably in an Armani tuxedo, his black hair immaculately coiffed, his goatee sculpted to perfection, and his black eyes hidden behind red-tinted glasses, her lover and master exuded the elegant sophistication cultivated only by centuries of living at the top of the food chain. Francois, now Frank, had been an aristocrat long ago and he still carried himself like he was a marquis.
Aimee shifted, the embroidered silk of her dress rustling around her. Frank had wanted her to wear her bronze-colored hair in a chignon, but she had rebuffed him and it was brushed smooth to her waist. She liked it long and unfettered. The dress was to his liking, not hers. It was an Atelier Versace slinky dress in robin’s egg blue that was heavily embroidered and sported sexy fissures in the fabric that revealed her peaches and cream flesh. A diamond bracelet sparkled on one wrist and little ones glittered in her ears. She hated diamonds, but he insisted on showing his wealth off to his potential clients. The dark energy that emanated out of the diamonds made her queasy. It was if they were tainted with the violence, pain and death that surrounded their journey from the depths of the earth to the setting of a glittering piece of jewelry.
Pretty When They Collide: A Novella in the Pretty When She Dies Universe (Volume 4) Page 1
