Pretty When They Collide (Pretty When She Dies 0.5)(24)

“Oh. Well, anyway. It’s the procurement of a Chinese artifact. Our client would like it returned to his home country.”

“Is this a norm or a super?”

“Supernatural. The person possessing the relic is a vampire named Frank.”

Cassandra swallowed. “Frank?”

“Yes. Frank.”

“Kind of a stupid name for a vampire,” she said, the déjà vu hitting her hard.

“His name is really Francois,” Scott answered. “He’s French.”

“French, huh?” Wincing, she ran her fingers through her hair. The dream had been real. Shit.

“Yes, originally. What does it matter?”

“What’s the danger level on this?”

“Minor. He’s a low level vampire with no supernatural guards. You’ll be able to get in and out of his place relatively easily. He’s going to be out of town this weekend.”

Closing her eyes, Cassandra pondered Aimee’s plea. “That’s really short notice.”

“Make it work, Cassandra,” Scott said, his voice even, but full of steel. “You won’t regret taking this job. You’ll be exceedingly well paid.”

“So the client is Chinese, huh? Did you talk to him?”

“I talked to his people. You know how it is. No direct contact.”

Pressing her tingling hand to her cheek, Cassandra took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled. So Frank was using a dummy contact to set the trap. That made sense. She didn’t want to think of Aimee’s desperate plea, but it echoed in her soul. “Okay. Email me the deets.”

“Excellent.” Scott hung up.

Holding the cellphone against her breasts, Cassandra sighed. “Shit. Why do pretty women always get me in trouble?”





Chapter 10: Hope



The darkness greeted Aimee when she awakened. The heaviness of the gloom felt smothering, and threatening. Unnerved, she quickly turned on the lamp next to her bed. Light flooded the room and filled her with relief. She was alone.

It had been risky casting the spell while Frank was awake, but she had been desperate. A lie about having a headache had excused her from Frank’s planning session. He’d been so engrossed in plotting the capture of the dhamphir--Cassandra--that he had barely acknowledged Aimee’s departure.

It had most likely all been for naught. Aimee realized that truth now. She was trapped in Frank’s power and no one was going to save her. Why would a complete stranger come to rescue her? Even if that stranger was obviously attracted to her?

Despite her disappointment, Aimee felt her face flush at the memory of Cassandra’s attention. It had been both flattering and unsettling. Though she was used to men being attracted to her, Aimee never felt any sort of reciprocal feelings. Her bond to Frank kept her from being drawn to anyone else but him. Or at least that is what she had believed until now.

“Great,” she mumbled, wiping a tear from her cheek.

Not only was she disappointed that Cassandra would most likely not risk herself to come save her, Aimee felt a surprisingly sharp stab of regret that she would not see her again. The truth could not be denied. Aimee was very attracted to Cassandra in a way she had never been drawn to anyone else. That revelation was shocking, yet freeing. For years she had thought there was something wrong with her because she could never quite connect with Frank even though he had been her first and only lover. She had definitely been infatuated with him, but it had never felt like she expected love to feel. It was only in the last year or so that she had admitted to herself she had never loved Frank at all. The touch of Cassandra’s hand had electrified her in a way that Frank’s never had.

Pressing her fingers to her lips, she could still feel the tingling sensation of their mingled powers. More tears slid from her eyes and Aimee brushed them away. So not only was she a member of a nearly-extinct race and enslaved by a vampire, she was also most likely a lesbian who was falling for a woman she would never see again.

The bedroom door slammed open without any warning. Frank stood in the doorway dressed immaculately in black trousers, a wine-colored silk shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and matching tinted glasses.

“Get up. I need you. Now.”

Rolling into a sitting position, Aimee shoved her feet into her flip-flops and sat perched on the end of the bed. “What now?”

“I just got confirmation that the dhamphir is coming. I need you to get your ass out here, look over our plans, and tell me what spells you can cast to help capture her.”

Stomach fluttering, Aimee pivoted around. “She is?”

“Yes, she is. C’mon, my little witch. We have much to do. I don’t want to lose this one.” Frank gestured at her impatiently.

Rising slowly, Aimee struggled to contain her emotions. Elation mingled with fear and gave birth to vibrant hope.

“Were you crying?” Frank asked shortly. He despised tears, considering them a sign of weakness.

“Migraines hurt, Frank,” Aimee curtly replied.

When she was close enough, he gripped her head between his hands, startling her and making her freeze in place. The fingers that could so easily crush her skull slid through her hair, pressing lightly. It took her a few seconds to realize he was rubbing the pressure points on her scalp, trying to alleviate her pain.