Free Killer Temptation by Marianne Willis

least something just as harsh inflamed his tongue, travelling down his throat, into his stomach. Tristan inhaled…nothing. He could not breathe.
    His eyes shot open when she shrank back. Her pretty small mouth twisted with disgust, nostrils flaring with harsh exhales. Like a brewing storm, the grey in her eyes grew dark, observing him with fervid abhorrence. Yes, pure, red-hot revulsion radiated off her in waves.
    No, she cannot hate me. She’s my moitié. He raised one hand to caress her face, but she lurched off the sofa before he managed a single touch.
    The acid in his body thickened. Distressed choking and wheezing rang in his ears. It was him. He made those sounds. Another long wheeze resonated as he struggled to catch air. Fog clouded his mind; body draining of strength.
    He fell to the hardwood floor. Thrumming pain shot up his knees on impact. Suffocating, he clawed at the wooden floorboards. Splinters cut through the skin beneath his nails as he fought for essence. He peered at Brianna who stood over him. No hint of concern in her eyes, no cry for help surged past her mouth. She was calm in a disturbing way, like a cold shell, a dark void of a soul with no emotion. Other than the painful sense of not breathing, a far worse realisation dawned…she had done this to him on purpose.
    "Die, you blood-sucking bastard!" Her vehement tone rasped out each word.
    He stared at his moitié , his life. "Why?" His throat scorched like steel wool scraped along gravel, and the sound was much worse. She didn’t answer him. His watery gaze followed her as she stepped around him and ran for the exit.
    Tristan lay there, enduring the flames licking through his body, killing him in languid motion. His eyelids grew heavy. Just as they drooped, numerous shadows rushed toward him. An echo of distressed voices shouted.
    "Find the bitch and kill her," someone said in a loud, clear voice. Who spoke? He wasn’t sure.
    Tristan fought with all his might to do the same. " Non . No one. Touches. Her." Blackness consumed him as he used his last ounce of strength to croak out the words.

Chapter 5
    She’d tried to kill him. Tristan lay in bed, gaze fixed on the rough, rocky ceiling. To live the long life he had, one might be satisfied with the concept of dying. And if life was as trivial as before: a day after day, year after year necessitated routine, he’d be more than happy to perish. Now, however, he wasn’t willing to die. Not when he found the reason he lived for so long, the purpose to exist for longer, but how unfortunate that his reason wanted him dead.
    He requested a few candle sconces to be lit, making the place dimmer than usual. Sometimes, he wondered what life would be like having a window to perch on, or a skylight to stare upon. But, natural light did not touch this far underground. A good thing, since he wouldn’t want to suffer the burns and blisters that affected a Pure like him. Besides, the dimness matched his mood.
    The shadows obscuring the stone walls and floors resembled his doubts on life, numbing his twisted emotions for revenge. Darkness was home, where he belonged. Any brighter made him think of Brianna’s golden hair, which then made him mull over how she wasn’t with him. Why did she turn out to be a vindictive, little snake? And how had he not seen this coming? Had she planned this from the beginning, running into him at the ball, revealing her shy yet liberated demeanour? The concept plagued him.
    Had every moment he shared with her been a complete lie? His fists curled around the silk sheet. No…not everything. The way she responded in the office, she couldn’t have faked her lust, her need. She begged for him, regardless of what her initial intentions involved. Without doubt he understood her response.
    But, of course, if she wanted to stay with him, she wouldn’t have tried to kill him. He released the sheet, fists clenched by his sides, nails biting into flesh. Tristan inhaled, long and slow, to