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Authors: Marianne Willis
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vampire race. The council members grew anxious to set things right and reinforce amity.
Tap. Tap. Tap . Tristan paused mid-step and shot a look to the wooden door. Like the drums of war, his heart beat with a wild tempo.
She's here .
He knew it. Her sweet, wild orchid scent lingered at the entrance. So lost in thought, his perfect hearing hadn’t registered her footsteps approaching the house. In three quick strides he took hold of the handle and swung the door open.
Brianna stood with one hand by her side, the other around the strap of her handbag. Her straight blonde hair fell just past her shoulders, over the dark red jacket zipped to her neck. He could not wait to see more…all of her. The night they made love was incredible, but he hadn’t a chance for a repeat. He would, though…and this time without their clothes. He wanted to lay in bed, savour every detail of her beautiful body by kissing each slope and dip of her curves…
“Hello.” She smiled.
The backdrop of the dark sky behind her made her stand out like a sumptuous picture in a fine art gallery; an absolute masterpiece. Tristan held his breath. It took everything to not haul her to his chest as instinct demanded. He studied her with great care. Even though a smile fit her lips, it didn't quite meet her eyes.
In their earlier conversation, she had mentioned something about a family tragedy. A sharp pang lanced through him. The thought of his moitié upset caused an insufferable ache inside his chest. She was his, and he would take care of her. Cupping her elbow, he led her into the living room. Not only did her usual aroma surround her, but the faintest hint of burnt candles. She must have lit some hours ago. He imagined her in a room of low candlelight…his room, to be precise. "Can I get you a drink?"
One, dark blonde brow shot upward as her luminous grey gaze fell on him.
“Relax. I’m not offering you blood, ma douceur .” Well, not yet. That would be expected in due course. He couldn’t help his grin. All the anxiety from the last week over not seeing her was now replaced with eager excitement. He had her and would never let go again.
She rubbed the base of her neck, wide eyes searching the room. "Are we alone?"
"Alone as can be...my family are in their rooms underground."
From the pucker in her brows, the idea of living beneath the ground must seem outrageous. In time she would adapt to such dwellings. After all, as his mate she’d be required to live with him in Désuet —the cave in Dordogne on the south-west countryside of France. Their home, where they would raise a family and spend all eternity together. His fists clenched and unclenched by his sides. How he couldn’t wait. Besides, patience had never been his strong point.
"Do you have wine?" she asked, hesitant to meet his eyes.
"Alcohol? Are you nervous?” Good to see he wasn’t the only one. The wild thump of his heart hadn’t slowed since she stepped through the door.
Her gaze strayed from his, and she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "A little."
Tristan nodded for her to take a seat, and then made his way into the kitchen. She traipsed around the room, tugged at the sleeves of her jacket as she studied the fibro ceiling down to the smooth floor. He spied on her through the kitchen window as he opened the cupboard door above and took out a bottle of 1872 Pinot Noir and a Bordeaux glass. Good year .
Oblivious of his gaze, she slid her fingers through the burgundy fringe of the vintage floor lamp, then sat at the edge of the leather sofa and withdrew a small golden object from her handbag. Lipstick. She removed the cap, twisted the cherry coloured stick and spread the creamy cosmetic over her small mouth. She didn't need it. She was gorgeous without makeup, but her efforts to impress made him grin.
Tristan stored the bottle back into the cupboard, picked up the wine glass and preceded into the lounge area. Brianna placed the cosmetic back in her handbag. She
Tap. Tap. Tap . Tristan paused mid-step and shot a look to the wooden door. Like the drums of war, his heart beat with a wild tempo.
She's here .
He knew it. Her sweet, wild orchid scent lingered at the entrance. So lost in thought, his perfect hearing hadn’t registered her footsteps approaching the house. In three quick strides he took hold of the handle and swung the door open.
Brianna stood with one hand by her side, the other around the strap of her handbag. Her straight blonde hair fell just past her shoulders, over the dark red jacket zipped to her neck. He could not wait to see more…all of her. The night they made love was incredible, but he hadn’t a chance for a repeat. He would, though…and this time without their clothes. He wanted to lay in bed, savour every detail of her beautiful body by kissing each slope and dip of her curves…
“Hello.” She smiled.
The backdrop of the dark sky behind her made her stand out like a sumptuous picture in a fine art gallery; an absolute masterpiece. Tristan held his breath. It took everything to not haul her to his chest as instinct demanded. He studied her with great care. Even though a smile fit her lips, it didn't quite meet her eyes.
In their earlier conversation, she had mentioned something about a family tragedy. A sharp pang lanced through him. The thought of his moitié upset caused an insufferable ache inside his chest. She was his, and he would take care of her. Cupping her elbow, he led her into the living room. Not only did her usual aroma surround her, but the faintest hint of burnt candles. She must have lit some hours ago. He imagined her in a room of low candlelight…his room, to be precise. "Can I get you a drink?"
One, dark blonde brow shot upward as her luminous grey gaze fell on him.
“Relax. I’m not offering you blood, ma douceur .” Well, not yet. That would be expected in due course. He couldn’t help his grin. All the anxiety from the last week over not seeing her was now replaced with eager excitement. He had her and would never let go again.
She rubbed the base of her neck, wide eyes searching the room. "Are we alone?"
"Alone as can be...my family are in their rooms underground."
From the pucker in her brows, the idea of living beneath the ground must seem outrageous. In time she would adapt to such dwellings. After all, as his mate she’d be required to live with him in Désuet —the cave in Dordogne on the south-west countryside of France. Their home, where they would raise a family and spend all eternity together. His fists clenched and unclenched by his sides. How he couldn’t wait. Besides, patience had never been his strong point.
"Do you have wine?" she asked, hesitant to meet his eyes.
"Alcohol? Are you nervous?” Good to see he wasn’t the only one. The wild thump of his heart hadn’t slowed since she stepped through the door.
Her gaze strayed from his, and she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "A little."
Tristan nodded for her to take a seat, and then made his way into the kitchen. She traipsed around the room, tugged at the sleeves of her jacket as she studied the fibro ceiling down to the smooth floor. He spied on her through the kitchen window as he opened the cupboard door above and took out a bottle of 1872 Pinot Noir and a Bordeaux glass. Good year .
Oblivious of his gaze, she slid her fingers through the burgundy fringe of the vintage floor lamp, then sat at the edge of the leather sofa and withdrew a small golden object from her handbag. Lipstick. She removed the cap, twisted the cherry coloured stick and spread the creamy cosmetic over her small mouth. She didn't need it. She was gorgeous without makeup, but her efforts to impress made him grin.
Tristan stored the bottle back into the cupboard, picked up the wine glass and preceded into the lounge area. Brianna placed the cosmetic back in her handbag. She
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