Beyond Temptation

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO



Avery stared at Brom, eyes snagging again on the huge, scary gun strapped low on his hip. Bands around his wide thigh held the thing flush. She had never seen anyone except a police officer wear a gun. Movies and TV didn’t count.



Seeming to realize she wouldn’t just relax while he wore it, Brom removed the gun and its rig. He placed it atop a cabinet holding some kind of security setup, asking quietly, “Better?”



She nodded. “What’re you doing here all decked out like S.W.A.T?” Pistol now aside, she stared at the knife on his other hip.



He had to unbuckle his actual belt, pull the punched end through the loops of his pants to take the sheath off and place it with the firearm. Threading the leather back into place and buckling it, he said, “I know the sound of tactical choppers flying low. Decided to come and have a look.”



Avery caught herself blinking at him. “You just, like, suited up for war and came charging?”



“Couldn’t know for sure it was war,” he replied, one corner of his mouth quirking in humor. “Didn’t hurt to come prepared.”



She turned her attention to Malec. “I am not complaining,” she qualified, “but, why are you so calm?”



“I’m not unable to control my aggressive tendencies,” he answered. “I just rarely need to. Or, wish to.”



She suddenly realized she sat in one lover’s bed in the presence of another. Scooting to the edge, she stood. With her hair loose and her feet bare, the intimacy of the three of them together seemed overwhelming. “Maybe we could go downstairs?”



Brom’s humor departed. “Feeling the press with us both in the bedroom with you?”



Avery wanted to drop through the floor. “Yes.”



To her horror, they responded in unison. “Good.”



Something in her plucked up. “I have never lied or made promises.”



Brom allowed, “No. Much as it might have helped me, you never lied.”



Malec’s voice emerged very low. “Much as I wanted to make you a prisoner for the lack, you never promised me exclusivity.”



That evidently prompted Brom to look at him. Something arced in the air. Avery felt the electric charge and her heart almost stopped.



“Well, I called that one, your lordliness. I knew you were dangerous.”



Malec turned his head. “If I thought for a moment I could have had her regard despite making her essentially a prisoner, I would have.”



Brom faced Malec, body language a clear clue he had switched into combat mode. The tension seemed to almost vibrate in him. “I would have dismantled your fine manor house like a wrecking ball.”



Avery had no clue how to intervene successfully. “Gentlemen?”



Malec stepped close to Brom. They stood almost exactly the same height. Brom’s body possessed heavy muscling, Malec’s a more elegant brawn. His voice twined the air like smoke, musical for its accent, animal for its unconcealed ferocity. “You have relinquished your advantage of weapons.”



“Guys, don’t do this,” she pled. They did not acknowledge her.



Brom smiled that awful, humorless smile. “I don’t need a blade or bullets to take you.”



Malec gave that terrible, black chuckle. “You have no idea what you face.”



“A frog Frenchy who likes to talk a big game, but doesn’t have any.”



Avery panicked, trying to step between them. Both turned her away gently.



“Move, darlin’.”



“Stay clear, ma fetishe.”



They had little distance to close. All the same, their bodies connected with a nauseating thunk of flesh and bone to flesh and bone.



She watched, witnessing exchanges so swift her eyes and brain had to play catch-up. Hands over her mouth, she waited. Then, they locked, muscles straining, breath hissing, face to face.



“What are you?” Malec demanded, eyes glowing unnaturally.



Brom snarled, “The rumors about you true?”



She trembled. “What are you two talking about?”



They broke, traded blurring blows, then again shoved at each other, chest to chest. Faces close, they stared at each other. Brom grunted, “Tell me how you broke the news to her.”



Malec appeared to gather his strength and push without result. “She does not know.”



Avery experienced a stark moment of self-growth. She decided not to let these men continue to talk over her, and walked to the cabinet where Brom’s gun rested. She withdrew the frightening pistol from the holster, fumbled clumsily working the slide, held it up like she’d seen in old Westerns and pulled the trigger.



She didn’t know which shocked her more; the buck and boom of the discharge, their rapid reaction, or covering her with their bodies.



“Fuck, it was her,” Brom announced, the astonishment in his voice plain. “She’s got my pistol.”



Avery elbowed him in the kidney. “Of course it was me, you Scottish lout!” She breathed a sigh when their weight lifted. Though they both had made an effort to ‘bridge’ themself and spare her the worst of their bulk, having two on top made her almost claustrophobic.



They each assisted her to stand. Brom reached for the pistol, and Avery held her arm farther behind her. Although she knew he could easily disarm her, he simply looked at the way she had it positioned. Having never touched a gun before this evening, it felt heavy and foreign. “I want answers.” She pointed, moving her finger from under Malec’s nose to Broms’. “And, if either of you attempts any form of the don’t-worry-your-pretty-head crap, the next shots go in kneecaps!”



Malec seemed to consider how to address her without insulting her intelligence, or terrifying her. “I believe I can speak for us both when I say we have no intention of doing that.”



Brom held out his hand. “That piece is semi-automatic and hair trigger. That means it will fire again with just a brush to the trigger. You’re very likely to hit something that will take it worse than the ceiling.”



Avery handed it back to him carefully, surprised she’d had the guts to pick up the thing in the first place. “Start talking.”



Brom replaced the gun in the holster. “Where’d you learn to shoot?”



“I’ve watched a lot of cop reality shows,” she responded. Turning to Malec, she said, “I want to know why you asked him what he was.”



He inclined his head. “We’ll let Ramsey answer.”



Brom motioned to a chair by the bed. “Sounds trite. But, you might want to sit down.” He glanced at Malec. “We both have a startling things to say.”



Rather than argue, she flopped in the deep, soft, leather-upholstered chair. “I’m listening.”



Brom ran a big scarred hand over his hair. “A mate of mine, Sophia’s brother, Robert Redding, worked as a researcher on a classified project while I served in the British Special Forces. He had ambitions beyond those allowed by polite science.” Brom held her gaze, tone earnest. “I believed in his work.” That burr curled around his words. “Enough to submit myself as a test subject.”



“What kind of testing?” Avery leaned forward, breath shallow.



“Genetics. DNA. I let him experiment with extracting my bone marrow and brain fluid to alter my codes.”



Avery covered her mouth with her hands. “Was it painful?”



Brom replied softly. “When Rob re-introduced the altered proteins, yes.”



Malec asked, “Did you suffer side affects?”



In disbelief at their calm discussion, Avery looked from Malec to Brom.



Brom shrugged. “Nothing Rob hadn’t predicted. After that, my abilities surged. Pain tolerance, rapid blood and tissue regeneration, increased muscle mass and strength. Well worth it.” His lips quirked at one corner. “Your turn, lordliness.”



Avery felt a headache coming on, and she requested, “Give it to me straight.”



Malec came to kneel at her feet. Picking up her hands to hold gently in his, he held her gaze. “Ma fetishe, I am the result of a very old species.”



“Species?” She suddenly suffered a horrible recall of instinctual warnings.



His gleaming eyes held a wealth of care and concern. “I am a vampire.”



Relief flooded her, and humor. Avery laughed. “Omigod, I almost wet myself waiting for your confession.”



Brom spoke. “Darlin’, you need to listen to him. I was briefed about the possibility these existed by my scientist friend looking for a good source to use in altering genetics.”



Avery stood, unnerved. “Are you two in this together? That would explain a lot.”



Malec stepped over, reached for Brom’s big pistol. He placed the muzzle against his chest, caught her gaze long enough to murmur, “Forgive me.” The pistol roared, blood sprayed in the air.



Avery’s heart convulsed. Her mouth went dry. She screamed and scrambled over his body as it fell to the floor. Ripping open his shirt, she saw the gaping hole left by the bullet. Even as she watched, his rent flesh mended. The blood on him remained, including what leaked out his back onto the carpet. His eyes opened. “Malec?” Avery felt disassociated and weak.



He reached up to touch her face. “I could think of no other way.”