Page 6 of A Game of Love and Betrayal

Jelisette’s commitment to helping Brynleigh get her revenge was sweet. Brynleigh’s Maker cared for her progeny. That was why Jelisette was willing to help Brynleigh avenge her family.

This had been Brynleigh’s destiny since the night of her Making. Only one outcome was acceptable.

For the crimes he’d committed, Ryker Waterborn would die.

CHAPTER 2

I Won’t Let You Down

The following day, before sundown, Brynleigh perched on the edge of her bed. She wore a black robe, her hair freshly dried from her afternoon shower.

Jelisette stood inside the walk-in closet wearing a sweater that seemed incongruous with the summer heat. Propping her hands on her hips, she tapped her foot on the floor. “Red or black?”

It may have been posed as a question, but Brynleigh knew Jelisette didn’t want any answers.

Rule number seven: your Maker always knows best.

Instead, Brynleigh sipped her blood wine, relishing the dry taste as she swirled it around her mouth before swallowing. A non-committal hum slipped from her lips, and she twisted her pendant through the fingers of her free hand.

“Hmm. You’re right.” Jelisette walked around the space, shadows following her like dogs as she touched several dresses.

Brynleigh didn’t particularly enjoy wearing formal attire, but she had several fancier pieces since she was often required to attend events with her Maker. Personally, Brynleigh would rather live in leggings. They were comfortable and convenient, and she always felt beautiful in them.

Jelisette pinched a scarlet sundress between her fingers. “You want something special. It needs to say, ‘I could kill you with a single nip of my fangs, but I won’t because I’m a good girl.’” She laughed cruelly, dropping the dress. “Though we both know that isn’t true.”

Another hum. Her Maker was right. Brynleigh wasn’t a good girl. She’d never been one, even before her Making. As a child, scarcely a week went by that she didn’t get in trouble for one thing or another. And now? Since her vampiric re-birth, Brynleigh no longer cared about trivial, mortal matters like “good” and “bad.” Revenge was the driving force in her life, her reason for being, her first thought when she woke, and the fuel for her dreams.

It was those sweet thoughts of vengeance that propelled Brynleigh off the bed. Her bare feet padded on the plush cream carpet. She sipped her blood wine, entering the closet to stand beside her Maker. She pointed at a glimmering sequined garment tucked towards the back, half-buried by other clothes. “What about that one?”

Jelisette tilted her head, her brown hair falling over her shoulder as she pursed her lips. She pulled out the dress, studying it like a beast assessing its dinner.

“Hmm, good choice.” She turned the garment around, taking it in from all angles. “Yes, this is the one. It will stand out from the others. No one will be able to resist you like this.” Her brow rose. “The public’s opinion is important, you know.”

“I know,” Brynleigh said.

The Choosing was televised and broadcast to the entire Republic. Couples who participated in the once-a-decade event were often considered semi-celebrities when it was over. Tonight was about more than just entering the Hall of Choice. This was Brynleigh’s first chance to make an impression on the press.

Jelisette handed the dress to her progeny. Hundreds of black sequins sparkled like an entire galaxy was embedded in the fabric. “Get dressed; you’re leaving in an hour.”

There was no warmth in either Jelisette’s voice or her countenance, and her assessing black gaze was equally cold as it ran over Brynleigh. That was fine.

Brynleigh didn’t need warmth or comfort. Vampires didn’t rely on emotions as humans did. It was one of her first lessons.

Jelisette glided out the door, her retreat silent thanks to her immortal grace, and as soon as she was alone, Brynleigh discarded her robe. The dress she’d selected was a tight onyx number that would hug her curves in all the right places. She’d never worn it before, and tonight seemed like the perfect opportunity.

Brynleigh slid the gown over her head, letting the fabric fall to the ground. Long sleeves tapered at her fingers. The hem trailed on the floor. Three strategically placed cut-outs highlighted her stomach and the curve of her breasts. The back scooped low, practically non-existent, and the material started right above the curve of her bottom.

If Brynleigh hadn’t been a creature of the night, she probably would’ve been cold in a dress like this. Midsummer nights, even in the Central Region, got cold. The garment wasn’t exactly built for warmth. Luckily for Brynleigh, being a child of the moon meant she could walk outside in the middle of a snowstorm and not be affected by the temperature.

Finishing her wine with one final gulp, Brynleigh placed the empty glass on her desk and grabbed her brush. She styled her hair into long flowing waves that tumbled over her left shoulder. For jewelry, she wore her pendant. Nothing else was required.

Rule number two: Doubly blessed vampires do not hide behind jewels or makeup. They let their gods-given gifts speak for themselves.

This was a rule Brynleigh was happy to follow. As a whole, vampires had an unnatural, too-beautiful-to-be-real quality about them, and Brynleigh was no different. She was the same as she’d been before her Making… but not. Her skin was smoother, lacking all blemishes; her eyes were sharper; her nose was slightly more delicate; and her hair was shinier.

Brynleigh drew in a deep breath and squared her shoulders. She reached within herself, pulling on the shadows that danced in her veins. They responded eagerly to her call, flooding out of her outstretched hands. Her wings were next. Those dark, bat-like appendages emerged and hung on her exposed back.

She rolled her shoulders, enjoying the added weight of her wings, before slipping her feet into three-inch black stilettos. Grabbing the matching clutch, she strode over to her dresser. It didn’t take long to find what she was looking for. After all, very few of her personal mementos had survived the events of the night she’d been Made.

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