Bete Noire

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Bête Noire

  Copyright © 2014 by Christina Moore, Uruwashi Publications

  Cover Photography provided by iStock

  Cover Design by Christina Moore

  Printed by CreateSpace, an Amazon.com Company

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the Author, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Christina Moore, beautifuldeathseries@gmail.com

  ISBN-13: 978-1494914875

  ISBN-10: 1494914875

  Available in print and eBook

  First Edition March 2014

  1: Under the Gun

  2: The Grudge

  3: Guilty

  4: Hands Around My Throat

  5: Blame

  6: Head Down

  7: Fuel my Fire

  8: More Human than Human

  9: Sober

  10: Desperately Wanting

  11: Weak and Powerless

  12: Furious Angels

  13: Drive

  14: Wonder What’s Next

  15: Firestarter

  16: Queer

  17: Disposition

  18: Pushing Me Away

  19: Inside

  20: Sabotage

  21: 6 Underground

  22: Prison Sex

  23: Love Hurts

  24: Sweet Dreams

  25: The Beautiful People

  26: Fine Again

  27: Wake Up

  Moon Child Preview

  About the Author

  1: Under the Gun

  FIVE golden rings, four calling birds, three French hens, two turtle doves and… a vampire in a bizarre dream? It was five days before Christmas. Tristan should have been dreaming of sugarplum fairies or some silly bullshit like that. Instead, he was dreaming of an arctic wasteland.

  The tall American was standing in an endless landscape of shimmering white, cutouts of mountains in the background obscured slightly by the forest of bamboo all around him. Visibly, he was alone. And yet, as he stood knee deep in the snow he couldn’t even feel, he had the eerie and undeniable feeling of being watched. There were eyes on him, it wasn’t his imagination. And with that gut feeling he just knew he was in a vampire’s dream.

  A surge of anxiety rushed through him to pool in his middle where he carried a cold burn, an icy tingling sensation he felt whenever he was in vampire’s presence. So when he opened his eyes and saw the glowing silver eyes staring at him from the end of the bed combined with the burn in his belly, he knew he was in trouble.

  “Fuck me!” Fully awake now, Tristan bolted upright, reaching for his gun. His hand slapping down onto the floor next to his sleep mat was like the smack of thunder. The gun was gone and he cursed again, scrambling back when the vampire moved for him. Seconds before his head slammed into the wall he realized his blunder. That, sure it wasn’t Ash, but he knew who this vampire was. And while she could be exceptionally dangerous, she wasn’t a threat to Tristan. Not since he last checked anyway…

  “Yuki,” he hissed, rubbing the back of his head where it’d made good friends with the plaster. “Jesus... fuck. The hell are you doing here?” The evening had only just started, but he’d had enough surprises already. It was never a good night when the first word spoken after having just woke was a curse. Or, you know, Yuki was sitting on his bed.

  Yuki laughed, the soft chime of tiny bells lark she had. No matter how many times she subjected him to that laugh, Tristan was never ready for the way it made him feel. He shivered under the force of her vampiric voice and shut his eyes, reveling in the sensation of fingers expertly coaxing his pleasure and wishing he could have denied it at the same time.

  The bed moved and his eyes shot open again. Yuki was on her hands and knees slowly crawling up Tristan’s body. Her almond shaped eyes shimmered with pleasure, thin lips curled into a disgusting smile.

  “Kon-ban-wa, Ryōshi-san,” Yuki drawled in her sultry thick Japanese accent.

  Tristan hated his new nickname “Hunter” but it was only slightly better than danshi—child.

  “If it is fucks you are interested in, I am more than glad I came by.”

  She may have been over a thousand years old, but her body belonged to a child, a girl of fourteen at the time of her death. Her vampire transformation locked her into an eternal young woman—a child with the hunger and desires of an adult. Tristan wanted nothing to do with her, sexually or otherwise.

  Yuki paused over his waist, giving him a huge grin that bared her long fangs, speeding his pulse up. “Don’t you want to play, Ryōshi-san?” She stuck her bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout. “You hurt my feelings...”

  “You need a soul to have feelings,” he answered.

  A shadow behind Yuki moved and then the short blade of a tantō was pressed across her delicate throat. The ancient vampire chuckled, turning her head enough to look over her shoulder. “Asta-chan, so nice of you to join us.”

  Ash’s voice was scratchy and low when she answered, “That is enough of that, Yukihime. Do not touch him.”

  “Why?” the little vampire said looking pouty again. “It’s not like you are… He’s not yours to be selfish with, you know. He’s completely unclaimed like this, a precarious thing… Perhaps I will claim him myself.”

  Tristan frowned at the ancient nut-job wearing the guise of a young girl, sitting on his bed.

  Ash’s hand slipped and she nicked Yuki’s throat. “No one will be claiming anyone, Yukihime.”

  “Keep your chopsticks to yourself,” Tristan chimed in.

  Yuki sat back slowly, carefully, putting her hands up in the air, showing she wasn’t a danger.

  Who the fuck is she kidding? Even someone as “docile” as Ash was a danger.

  “No?” the old vampire asked sounding disappointed. “What a pity. What’s the point then, Asta-chan?”

  Ash hissed in Greek under her breath, something Tristan had heard many times and wondered if she weren’t really cursing. Even in the dark he could see her hand trembling, fighting herself not to cut the vampire deeper. And as much as Tristan liked the idea of no more Yuki…

  “Ash,” he said in a warning tone and she removed the blade from the Master vampire’s throat with a huff.

  “There are many points that do not involve fangs, Master.”

  Yuki put a hand to her mouth and giggled. “Asta-chan always tells the funniest jokes. Don’t you think so, Ryōshi-san?” Yuki looked to him, letting her gaze run down his body, drinking in his naked flesh from neck to waist where the sheets had piled a little too low in his lap. Clear eyes lingered south. Somehow, he didn’t think she was looking at his fit waistline or the shiny new scars, courtesy of Malik and his minions.

  Tristan cleared his throat loudly. “Up here,” he said and she returned her gaze to his face, smiling wickedly.

  “You’re not sleeping together.” She made it a statement as if she expected to see the two in bed together, actually sleeping or something more intimate.

  He frowned, making a dirty face at the ancient vampire. But he knew she meant sex and not actual sleep. And it was true, they weren’t doing either together. Ever since a kiss that Ash insisted never should have happened, there’d been nothing physical between them. Well, he did manage to steal a few small, closed-mouth kisses from her on impulse, but things never went furt
her than that. Being an Uruwashi, and the last, was way more complicated than he cared for.

  Safe sex with a vampire had nothing to do with birth control pills and condoms, and everything to do with not getting bitten and drained. And in Tristan’s case, turned into a vampire too and more. Even the smallest of cuts mixed with a simple drop of vampiric saliva could be enough to turn him into something not quite human, nor wholly monster. As it was, right then, he was only human… for as far as he could stretch the term anyway. And thanks to that fucking psychopath Malik, he was the last of whatever he was. Okay, he was comfortable enough to call himself Uruwashi if nothing else, only because he didn’t know the full extent of what the classification “Uruwashi” really meant aside of being the Beautiful Death.

  After nearly dying more times than he could count, Tristan had convinced himself the best way to live was to die—to be bitten and become a true Uruwashi in more than just title. Tristan didn’t trust any other vampire but Ash to do the deed. Only, she refused. Because, if things went wrong, there was a slim chance he wouldn’t survive the transformation at all. That was the only reason he could think of that she would so adamantly refuse. She was afraid of killing the last of a clan meant to protect unsuspecting humans from the monsters of the night. Though, Tristan wasn’t naive enough to believe that was the full reason.

  Whatever her reasons, having her around was… complicated. He was sure she felt for him the way he felt for her, but she was constantly acting as though she didn’t and looking pained for it. She was obviously doing it to help repress her physical urge for him—whether it be blood or sex. He got that, but it still aggravated, confused and hurt him.

  Tristan huffed, furrowing his brow. “That is none of your goddamn business,” he said, referring to their sex life. “Princess.”

  Yuki threw back her head and laughed a full-throated, fangy laugh. For once she didn’t put the power into that laugh that made him shudder and sway. Ash never did that to him. He wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing.

  The ancient vampire pulled to her feet, standing over him. Looking smug, she crossed her arms over her tiny chest and looked down at him. It was just above freezing outside, but she was dressed in next to nothing, wearing a tiny tank top of thin silk. A matching skirt of the same soft pink silk covered in darker pink and maroon cherry blossom flowers hugged her non-existent hips. A long slit ran up each leg, stopping at her very upper thigh. And if everyone were very lucky, the old loon remembered her underpants this time—a tiny detail she’d forgotten more than once in the past. Oh, and no shoes. Come to think on it, in all the time he’d known her, Tristan was sure he’d never seen her in a single pair of shoes. Ash seemed to like hers enough.

  “Why are you here?” Ash snapped from her place kneeling between Tristan’s feet.

  The old vampire climbed off the bed and stopped to face Ash, tapping the side of her nose, looking haughty. Yuki showed up often when Ash and Tristan were practicing kendo just outside of town. But never once had the old vamp been to the apartment. Tristan didn’t even realize she knew where they lived. He was only in town still because he had nowhere to go back to at “home”. He canceled the lease on his apartment when he left and he couldn’t bear with the idea of living in his parent’s home, the house he grew up in, again. Not with the memories of them still humming within. Ash, ever thoughtful, offered to find them accommodations in the U.S. that would suit both their needs—whatever those were. There were land rights and blueprints involved, then some building. Until then, they were stuck with Yuki in Japan. Tristan was starting to wonder though if it would be worth it to leave now and rent something in the interim…

  Ash shut her eyes and sighed as the millennia old vampire marched out of the room, nose in the air. Alone together, Tristan and Ash looked at one another. They slept in completely different ways. Tristan preferred the freedom of sleeping in the buff, sprawled out on his Japanese mat pressed into the corner of his shoebox room. Ash preferred to wrap herself up in a cocoon of layers, clothes and blankets, curled up on the floor of his closet with the doors shut and sealed from the light. Every day the reality of their natures became even clearer: they were complete opposites.

  Maybe they just weren’t meant to be.

  Ash, having heard a glimpse of the thought, quickly turned away, movements stiff.

  “Ash,” Tristan called out softly and dove out of bed, grabbing her wrist.

  Reluctantly, she turned around to face him.

  “You know, I don’t really feel that way.” He brushed a bit of hair from her forehead, fingers trailing along her skin. “Right?” He was just so frustrated and as honest as he was, he still had a hard time telling Ash in plain words how he really felt.

  But she knew all too well his feelings, read them from his mind more clearly than he’d ever be able to speak them. “I know,” she answered gently, but still pulled away from his close proximity, from his delicate touch. It really was almost too much to bear. Her eyes strayed south... That didn’t help either.

  Seeing where her eyes had landed, Tristan grinned and turned away to get dressed. Ash cleared her throat and went to the mirror hanging on the shower room door to tidy her hair. Not that she ever moved, not even a twitch in her sleep, to tussle it.

  “So, you don’t know why she’s here?”

  Ash glanced at Tristan through the mirror, catching a flash of naked backside seconds before he pulled boxers up. “I cannot even make a fair guess. Honestly, I had not known she knew where to find us, or cared for that matter.” Not that it was hard to find the only semi-permanent tall gaijin in town.

  He nodded, turning around as he fastened the button on his jeans. “Same.” He stopped, grinning when he saw the look on Ash’s face, eyes fixed on his half-naked body. One thing was clear to him, that she thought he was hot. So what was stopping her from indulging, just a little? Sure they couldn’t kiss too deeply, safely, but they could have fun other ways. Hell, talking would have been nice at this point, you know, sharing n’ shit.

  Ash looked up slowly, taking in every inch of bare flesh. She was breathing heavy and under all those thick layers of clothing, her nipples hardened. Pale eyes full of heat met Tristan’s dark blues and he smiled, taking a step towards her. She could lie to him, hell, she could lie to herself, but her body always told the truth.

  He reached out and when she didn’t instinctively pull away, he lightly touched her cheek. Then smoothed his fingers across her cold skin, leaving hot trails and slipping back into her hair. Again, she didn’t resist as he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her against him. She wanted this, but was always so afraid of taking things too far.

  The hand in her hair trailed down until he slipped fingers into the collar of her top and traced around to caress along her collarbone. Ash’s eyes fluttered shut as a shudder tore its way down her back. He smiled that smile he had only for her. It held depth, longing and... something more. Something he didn’t dare give a name to. Not when she tried so hard to deny that same something.

  Why couldn’t they just find a safe middle ground? Somewhere they could be comfortable with each other that wasn’t completely off, which was pretty much how they were operating now. If he couldn’t touch her, get just a little closer to her, he was going to lose his mind. Or have to leave for good.

  Tristan leaned in and whispered her name across her face. He could taste her gentle scent, the delicate flavor of sweet oranges and creamy vanilla, she was so close, mouth hovering less than an inch from his. He could stick his tongue out and lick along her lip and he was dying to do just that. He got as close as his lips brushing over hers before she snapped her head back. She looked angry as she stepped away from him, shaking her head.

  He let out a dismayed sigh and then, then he got angry. “Why?”

  Ash stopped at the door and turned to look at him. “Pardon?”

  “Why do you keep pushing me away like this?” He realized, without even having to speak aloud, that on the othe
r side of the thin paper wall, Yuki could hear him. He really couldn’t give a fuck. Two months of confusion were finally getting the best of him. He thought Ash felt something for him, but every action since moving in together said otherwise. Hell, she flirted more when Tristan still thought she was a he.

  “If you cannot understand something so simple, perhaps we are better off—”

  “Ash,” he snapped. “Don’t. Okay? Just don’t. I get it. I really do, but this isn’t the way to go about it.”

  “I am sure I do not know what you mean.”

  Tristan made an aggravated noise, hands in his hair. “God! Why the hell are you even here? I swear, you’re just—” He stopped suddenly, looking more than a little alarmed as his eyes darted behind her.

  Ash frowned, taking a step back. His thoughts cut off as sharply as his mouth. All she could hear now from him was a jumble of confusion and alarm. “What?”

  His brow furrowed, eyes going towards the other room. “What the hell is that?”

  “What? I—” Ash took a step towards him, looking up at him in wonderment.

  “That,” he said, pointing towards the other room. “What the fuck is that? Is there someone else here?”

  Ash’s eyes widened. “You can sense her?” Ash knew the moment she woke that Yukihime was in the apartment and not alone. But Tristan was only human. No, that wasn’t entirely right either was it? He was half Uruwashi, a virgin Uruwashi at that. While he could feel Yukihime, she was at the fringe of his ability, making her presence just a tiny little spark in his middle. And the other one…

  It was Tristan’s turn to frown. “Why wouldn’t I be able to feel a vampire?” That’s what it had to be right? Too bad it really didn’t feel like one. The other was... more alive, warmer. Thicker and heavier.

  “The other one is not a vampire, Tristan.” Very much the opposite.

  His frown deepened, not liking where this was going. “Well, I feel something.”

  Ash licked her lips, expression guarded. “It is Lilith.”

  He gave a start. “The pythia? Why the hell do I feel her?” He didn’t feel her the one time they met before… did he? Then again, he was on the complete opposite side of the lawn from her and half dead.