Chapter 6: Temptation

One by one, my brothers left their posts, temporarily abandoned their hostilities, and marched through the door. Unmoving, I watched as they went, marveling at the differences between them. We were such an unbelievably diverse group, the fact we shared a parent seemed fictional.

Nash was uncategorizably attractive. His stringy and unkempt ash blond hair, and a pair of icy blue eyes that could freeze the fires of Hell drove the girls wild. At seven feet and one inch tall, he towered above the rest of us, which just made it that much easier for him to peer down his long, thin nose in disdain.

Whether it was because he was the first born or his Nordic heritage, I couldn’t say, but he firmly believed he was superior. Not just to his siblings, but to all that breathed. I wondered how his groupies would feel if they knew who he really was. Or what he was, rather. Would they still fawn over him if they knew how he’d killed his mother?

Nearly every human woman died birthing our kind, but Nash’s mother met a particularly gruesome end. He had no mercy, even then.

I had a strange memory of Nash. It was violent and impure, but it was also incomplete. He attacked me once, but when I tried to recall the event, I went down with a headache that brought me to tears. He glared at me as he passed.

Six-nine and built like a linebacker, Zane was dizzyingly handsome. His clearly defined cheekbones and strong jawline were only part of his appeal. Tapered obsidian hair grazed his eyebrows, making his bittersweet chocolate stare more menacing than any other part of his body.

The coppery complexion of his Native American ancestors was only slightly dulled by the paleness given by our father. It still amazed me how hypnotically those football-sized hands of his handled an electric guitar.

Z was intimidating, not just in looks but also in attitude. Weakness was unacceptable. He had his moments, though. As his only living sister, he looked out for me. He was my strongest ally in a world full of enemies.

Then, there were the twins, Kyon and Kade. They were as godlike as I’d ever seen. Narrow, aquiline noses rose above symmetrically plush lips, leading to a pair of large, kaleidoscope orbs—brown, with clearly identifiable flecks of grey and green—framed by thick lashes. Wavy locks of midnight purple hung to their shoulders, natural blond highlights weaving throughout.

The Tripoli-born boys were a mere six-five, but they made up for their below average size with boisterous personalities that made for excellent showmen. However, the darkness within couldn’t be contained. They fought it with all their might, but when the battles were lost, it was best to be on another continent. Bloodlust took on a whole new meaning when it came to them.

I watched until the door closed. Finally, I was alone with Anthony. Time crawled with sloth-like speed. Our heads turned simultaneously. After what felt like hours, our eyes met. Neither of us spoke, although there was so much to say.

I could hear his heart thumping, a symphony of tribal drums in his chest. His blood aura pulsed around him; the red haze thick enough to set me down the wrong path. My vision blurred and his scent assaulted my nostrils. Never in my life had I wanted anything more than I wanted him right then.

"How about your room after the show?" He suggested.

"Yo!" Zane’s voice barreled through the closed door just as if he’d kicked it open, startling me. It was a good thing, too. I’d inadvertently begun to hypnotize Anthony. When I jumped, the connection severed and he shook his head, his face twisted with intrigued confusion.

"Cool your f*ckin’ jets, Z. I’m coming!" I shouted back. After his heavy footfalls began to recede, I rose.

Anthony stood motionless, watching me intently. His desire was strong, seeping through his pores like sweat. I wished more than anything that it was simple lust. Uncomplicated. Satiating hunger and going our separate ways. I could handle unadulterated passion. I couldn't handle the romantic notions. I didn't love him. I would never be able to give him what he wanted, and he would never be Memphis. We'd only hurt each other in the end. The more my mouth watered for him, the less I cared about emotions.

Running my tongue over the sharpened tips of my canines, I took step after step until less than a breath separated us. The ache between my thighs was insistent, but duty called. If I didn’t enter that hallway in the next thirty seconds, Zane would return and physically remove me. Very few things were worse than being slung over your older brother’s shoulder, aroused and thirsty. Been there. Done that. Not. A. Fan.

"We cannot be alone together again," I said quietly but firmly. His forehead wrinkled and he started to speak, but I held up a finger to stop him. "I need to feed and you," cocking my head to the side, I allowed my eyes to focus on the throbbing vein in his neck, "are such a delicious temptation."

"Fallon, I want you to." His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed nervously. I wondered if he realized the implications of what had just come out of his mouth.

"You can’t handle me, Anthony. I meant that when I said it before, and I mean it now." I reached out and stroked his pulsing jugular with my thumb. "It's too dangerous."

"Well," he took a step forward, "it's a d*mn good thing I like living on the edge."

Leaning forward, I whispered, "You don't know what you're asking."

I dragged my tongue across the seam of his lips and then spun rapidly on the ball of my foot.

As quickly as I could, without breaking the sound barrier, I left and stalked through the hollow corridor. Though I wanted to play, it was time to go to work.