Deadly Ever After

Archive for the tag “Tristan Trevosier”

Flash Fiction Friday: The Exception

Today’s Brew: Who cares about the coffee.  It’s peppermint mocha creamer, yo.

by Kristen

To close out our celebration of Because the Night’s release week, I wanted to repost an oldie but a goodie short piece starring Tristan.

Add Because the Night on Goodreads!  Own a copy of Because the Night (The Night Songs Collection) for your very own!!

Shhh. Tristan wants to tell you a story.

“So you think you can handle me?” My tattooed fantasy stood just inches from me, his eyes soft, wearing a smile that said nothing but danger.

I nodded.  I couldn’t speak.  I’d played this very moment out so many times in my mind.  I’d known just what to say to lure him closer.  But it was already a done deal, a negotiation of sorts.

Not what I had imagined so many times before, alone in my house, the car, the shower. You get the picture. What the hell was I doing? I’d only slept with three people in my whole life and here I was, with this larger than life stranger, practically paralyzed.

Now that I was actually here with Tristan Trevosier, my whole body trembled, and I had to clench my teeth together not to fawn over him, profess my love like some pathetic preteen fangirl.

“What’s your name?”  His voice was little more than a whisper.  He took one more step, close enough to touch my arm.  He ran his rough fingers, calloused from playing guitar, down the length of my bare skin.  With his other hand, he tipped my chin up to meet his eyes, which burned with every scandalous thought I knew brewed in his soul.

“Andrea.” Why did I feel so shy now? This was what I wanted, wasn’t it?

“Your husband seems like a nice guy.”

My eyes widened. My guard rose like iron gates around my conscious. I shouldn’t be doing this.

But I had to.

“He’s wonderful.” I gulped.  “Your girlfriend is okay with this?”

“I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“That girl, who was sitting in the room. I’ve seen pictures of you with her online.”

“She’s not my girlfriend, she’s my soulmate.”  He smiled, amused.  “Like you and your husband, we understand each other. What we have to do.”

My jaw, still in his hand, dropped.  I didn’t understand this at all.

“Back to your husband.”  His eyes bore into mine so I could look nowhere else. “What doesn’t he do for you?”

We’d been married for six months, this trip to Vegas technically our honeymoon. We’d hardly had a real fight yet. I’d waited longer than my girlfriends to get married, but Brian had made every minute of that wait worth it. Now, here I stood before this Adonis, barely more than a teenager, who had no problem questioning our marriage right after he asked me my name.

“What do you mean?”

“This is your fantasy, right, Andrea?” Tristan cut me off.  “I want to make it worth your while.  What doesn’t he do for you? Sexually.  I don’t give a rat’s ass if he takes out the trash or puts down the toilet seat.”

Despite the electrical charge in the small space between our faces, I couldn’t help but laugh.  I closed my eyes and swallowed hard. “He doesn’t like to go down on me.”

Tristan rolled his eyes.  “I’ll never understand why some dudes are so stupid.”

He pushed me against the wall in the small room and sunk to his knees in front of me.  I lost my urge to defend Brian’s honor as he pushed up my skirt to my waist and tore my lace panties off of me like they were made from tissue paper.  My breath quickened as I stood in front of him. Bare.  He only used his hands to part my thigh, kissing my pubic bone before moving down, licking, sucking, teasing. His dark hair tickled my thighs. All my muscles pulsed and sang. His hands and mouth held me steady against the wall, or else I might have fallen on top of him in a crumpled heap.

I wanted to beg him for mercy, but I never wanted him to stop. Sanity was overrated.

In a fluid moment, Tristan rose to his feet, his hands sliding up to the waded fabric at my waist.  “Do you understand what Bloodlust is, Andrea?” He breathed into my ear.

I hadn’t expected him to stay in character.  But I couldn’t deny it.  Something pulled me to him. “I do. That’s why I’m here.”

“You don’t know what it is for me.” He kissed my neck, and I stiffened with nerves. “The blood is what gets people like me off.”

He grazed his sharp teeth against my neck.  Weren’t they just part of his costume? He wouldn’t really take it so far and try to bite me, would he?

“It’s real?” I could barely manage the words.

“It’s real. “ I could feel him nod against my neck.  “Relax.  This is why you’re here.”

I didn’t relax. I froze as he punctured my neck.  My mouth opened to scream but nothing came out. As he sucked, I entered an alternate universe, almost a higher consciousness.  My muscles softened and all those little things that mattered just second before didn’t matter now.

“Good girl.” He reassured me as he finished. His hands moved back down to my legs, pushing me up against the wall, entering me.  My god, was he wearing a condom?  The panic seemed separate, like someone else worried about it for me. He sucked on the wounds on my neck as he thrusted in beautiful rhythm, like the musician he was. I exploded, seeing nothing but stars.

Tristan gently put me back down on the floor, back to earth, and adjusted my skirt.  He kissed me on my forehead as he adjusted himself, a bizarrely chaste move after what he had just done to me.

“Go back to your husband, Andrea.”

With that, he walked away from me.  Shut the door behind him as he left the room. The curtain closed on my fantasy.

Real life awaited. I was terrified.

I dug in my purse for my phone.  As I expected, Brian had left me close to a dozen messages.  He waited for me at the bar in the lobby.  Before I ventured out, I stole a quick glance at myself in my compact mirror.  I was still real. My only souvenir to remember my encounter he left me with was two neat little teeth marks.

I peeked out the door into the hallway.  Thankfully, everything was well marked and I was able to find my way back out into the Sin City Vampire Club without having to ask for help.

Brian sat alone on a corner stool, happily sipping some concoction out of a plastic skull souvenir cup.  His face brightened when he saw me, kissing me in greeting. “So, did you do it?”

How could he be so enthusiastic about this? So casual? After all, it was his big mouth that set the whole thing into motion in the first place. “Hey Tristan, you’re the one that I’d let my wife sleep with.  It’s her fantasy.”  He had blurted out in the Immortal Dilemma meet and greet line.  I had wanted to kill him for saying such a thing until Tristan cocked his eyebrow, looking me up and down, and smiled.

I’m sure he’d spend our time apart texting his buddies at home, bragging about what was going on. How would I ever be able to face our friends?

I’d cheated on my husband. And everyone would want to hear every single detail.

I nodded, climbing up on the stool beside him, wincing at my soreness. I could barely look him in the eye.

“So was it hot? Like real vampire sex?” Brian’s eyes blazed. This still wasn’t real to him.

I pulled my hair away from my neck, revealing the puncture wounds.

He ran his fingers gingerly against the swollen scabby marks.  “Wow.”  His tone changed a bit as what happened sunk in.

I folded my hands in front of me and stared at them.

“Do you want a drink, babe?”

I shook my head.

“What do you want to do?

“I just want to go back to the room.”

“Okay.”  He threw some money up on the bar, leaving his skull cup behind as we slid off our bar stools.

We walked back to our hotel, hand in hand, forever changed from how we arrived.

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Flash Fiction Friday Favorites

TODAY’S BREW: In light of my Trick or Treating hangover (because yes, my neighbors do serve drinks), I shall have inappropriate relations with vast amounts of coffee.

By Julie

This Halloween was a blast. So much amazing flash fiction flying around out there. I loved Joe Hart’s 31 Days of Flash Fiction (http://t.co/Y0U66xfRMP), and The Dark Carnival on Pen and Muse was incredible. (My favorite was Mark Matthew’s http://t.co/6lVaxoROWQ.)  Here’s a link to my very own story there that went up last night, featuring the Tunnel of Love. LOVE CONSUMES US. http://t.co/Y0U66xfRMP, and if you missed it, Kristen’s incredible story, HEAVEN’S ON FIRE is here http://t.co/oxJeu1l85f, and it’s the perfect thing to gear us up for release of BECAUSE THE NIGHT in just four short days!

For our special Halloween treat, however, Kristen and I put our fiendish minds together to bring our vampires that you love to hate into the same bloody room. See what happens when our worlds collide. Chris Lynch, my serial killing attorney turned vamp, and Tristan, Kristen’s rock star bad boy make interesting company.

BLOOD STAKES

The Clash of the Vampires

Her skin was so tan, it begged to be cracked and broken open like a tropical fruit, to let me taste the sweetness inside until it was gone.

Not here. I threw the dice again, willing myself not to look at the tan one, or even to feel the slowly lapping tongue of the chubby blonde in my ear on the other side as she crawled up and down my suit, wrinkling it. There would be a busty maid waiting to pick up my suit no matter what time I got back to the room, and when that busty maid quietly disappeared, another would replace her. Just like magic. This was Vegas, and magic happened all the time.

I needed to get the hell out of New Hampshire for a while, to somewhere with some refinery that appreciated a man with taste, and with taste for a special kind of sin. Looking around the high roller room, I thought I’d found it. Until my eyes landed on him.

Surrounded by a swarm of bimbos that made my dates look like choir girls, hair and leather sprawled out from the chair at the table.  He didn’t have a glass in front of him, but a bottle, that he lifted to his lips in between sucking on the necks of the girls closest to him.  He didn’t even look at them, how could he, his eyes open little more than slits.

“Young lady,” I said quietly to the waitress, a pristine thing in black and white, an old movie waiting to be colored red. She came to me quickly, smiling shyly.

“Yes, Mr. Lynch?” she said, a melodious voice that I wanted to hear scream.

“Can we please,” I glanced to the over-active corner, “tidy up a bit?”

Her eyes widened, her lips moving with a childlike uncertainty. “Oh, sir,” she said. “That is Tristan Trevosier.”

I ran a finger down her arm, feeling the goosebumps rise under my cool touch. “Why should that matter to me, darling girl?”

“He’s famous, you know?  He’s in Immortal Dilemma.”  Her eyes widened and she jerked her head back to the spectacle at the table in the corner.

“Still doesn’t matter.” My words were little more than breath against her skin.  She shivered as I spoke. “Why would that make him special?”

“I’ve heard he’s a…” She turned back again, looking nervous and lowering her voice.  “Vampire.”

“Do you know what vampires do?”

She was trembling, and it hurt to look at it. I would crush her butterfly wings to stop them from shaking. “Are you saying you think they’re real?”

“I don’t have to think it.” My shield was a fluttering thing around us, but still strong enough to keep the women I escorted from seeing as I leaned in, sniffing deeply her hot pink aroma.

“Mr. Lynch?” she squeaked, eyes darting to the shimmering air around us.

“Sssshhh.” And I plunged my fangs into the warm pulsing vein in her throat, my hand over her mouth so I could feel the scream. I’d been drinking, and my shield was a near failure. I would never be the strongest vampire. The thought of that made me drink deeper, squeeze her cheeks harder, want to consume and obliterate all at once.

“Hey! Hey, man. What the fuck are you doing?” The famous vampire approached me, snapping me out of my thrall.  There was delicious suction when I pulled my mouth from the waitress, her blood salty and thick.  She whimpered softly against my hand, now wet with her tears.  Gasps and murmurs swirled around us.  “We don’t do that shit in public.”

“You…you saw that?” It was my turn to be surprised.

The rockstar already slid his hands around the waist of my waitress, again making the swarm of on lookers and hangers-on cry out with objection or envy. He pressed her against his body, concealing her open wound.  “Yeah.  That’s not how you do it.  You do it like this. Are you ready, sweetheart?”

Drowsy, the waitress nodded as Tristan ran his tongue along her neck then laid her down over the lip of the craps table, so her legs were up above her head.  He ran his hands along her thighs, pushing up her already barely there uniform skirt and biting into the tender flesh of her inner thigh.

“What are you doing over here?” the chubby blonde bitched at the rock star. “Lynch, what is he doing?” she said, turning to me as I wiped a smear of blood off my chin. She noticed, and came quickly to look at it. “Are you okay?”

So she hadn’t seen me take the waitress’s blood. Only he had. He actually was a vampire.

I tapped him on the shoulder as he ravaged the waitress’s thigh. “I think you should go back to your hole in the earth, little boy, before I take your harem away from you.”

He raised his head just enough for me to see the blood glisten against his chin.  His eyes burned black and he bared his fangs to me.  “Try it.” He growled.

Faster than he could think, I took him by the mane of hair, wishing I didn’t have to touch it all the same, and slammed his face hard into the table next to the waitress. She screamed, a tinkling sound in this place, but only had the life left to curl in a ball on top of the game.

Tristan sprung from the table, but swayed when he stood. And I was the undisciplined one? He was a raging mess of a boy, with bloodshot eyes and a drug-thinned body. He ran at me, and I hit him, sending him back against the table. The girls were all screaming, mine and his alike. It made my teeth gnash and my heart pound.

My interests were no longer on him.

“Alright, man, I get it, you’re strong,” the rock star said.

If he said anything else, I didn’t care.  The plump blonde cried out, pushed away from the table by Tristan.  She somehow made her way into a chair, her arms wrapped loosely around her body in a hug. Nothing was going to bring her comfort tonight. I walked to her, going down on one knee and smiling into her tear brimmed eyes. I pulled her arms away from her stomach, pulling her body to mine, to taste the sweet nectar she held inside.

“Stop screaming,” I said through a smile. “It makes me crazy.”

But all the screaming around me, a cacophony of songbirds, had my teeth roaring to sink in to any one of them and all of them.

Her soft belly was in front of me and I pinned her to the chair, ripping my teeth into the flesh of it while she writhed like she loved it. The wound was wide, and she wouldn’t live long enough to enjoy me finishing her blood.

When I drained her, I moved to the next one, and the next one, wondering how long I had before the cameras caught on through the shield. I saw Tristan flash by as he did the same, laboring over the sucking of each girls’ thighs and chests, while I relished the distress of the others. It was a beautiful tragedy, perfection of destruction.

All too soon, the bystanders were reduced to bodies strewn on the carpet like emptied drink cups.  The rock star sat back down at his game table and ran his fingers through his hair.  He raised his bottle to me. “Cheers.”

Invigorated from our little competition, I couldn’t help but ask. “So what else is there to do around here on a Friday night?”

***You can find more Lynch in Running Home and more Tristan in Because The Night.***

Because The Night Character Expo: Tristan

Today’s Brew: Water. I have to set my alarm for 3:30 AM.

by Kristen


As long as I’ve thought that boys don’t have cooties, I’ve been fascinated by musicians.  Besides the fact that so many of them are drop dead gorgeous, creativity is sexy.  And as someone with a creative mind, I found them magical.  When I was in junior high, hairbands were a thing.  And I can’t tell you how much I loved it.  I still do.  Guys with long hair, eyeliner, leather pants and boots? Yes please. That is how I like my rock stars.  I was attracted to the debauchery and danger.

Tristan. So. Tristan.

Over the years, I went to hundreds of concerts and met tons of bands, befriending local and internationally performing bands.  Many of my girl friends felt the same way. They either just loved the music or they dated the guys in the bands. These were my people. Because it’s been a part of my life for so long, a lot of my stories seem tame to me, although they might be wilder than I consider them.  Since there are no rules in rock n roll, I was always fascinated with where the adventure might lead.

Naturally, the Motley Crue biography, The Dirt, captured my imagination. I should correct what I said earlier.  My stories are tame compared to the ones shared in this book.  These guys lived the epitome of the sex, drugs and rock n roll stereotype.

When I created a larger than life rock star male lead character, I looked no further than Nikki Sixx.  I’ve said many times before that anyone who has died twice and lived to tell about it deserves a fictional character based on him.  Tristan Trevosier is that character.  He’s only died once, so he’s got some catching up to do.

Totally Tristan.

Tristan is a spoiled brat who thrives on negative attention.  He is the life of the party and he goes through girls like other people might order ice coffees.  But he’s one of those guys who pushes the limits with what he can get away with, and still manages to be charming.  The bad boy no one can resist.

What’s Tristan so bitter about? He’s the son of a famous actor, and everyone wants something from him because of who he is.  Until he meets Callie, a girl who could totally care less about all of that and just wants to be his friend.  With Callie, he finds his Achilles heel.

Tristan’s never had to take anything seriously, since someone’s always around to save him.  Once his excesses led him to immortality, nothing changed.  He covered up his anger and confusion with drink and drugs, and didn’t bother to find out what the afterlife had in store for him.

Tristan

So when I say it like that, he sounds pretty awful.  But like any expert on the dark side, Tristan’s charming enough that he intrigues you. You want to know what he’s going to do next.  You close your eyes as he walks the tightrope, knowing he’s got no safety net. And you cheer when he makes it to the other side, unscathed.

I Write Fiction And The Truth Follows

Today’s Brew: I’m cooking, so it’s shrimp in white wine and lemon butter and butterscotch rum brownies. I bet you wish you had a dinner invite.

Earlier this week, I told you about the sparkly combat boots I created for Immortal Dilemma coming into being. Well, kids, it’s happened again.

“What was he screwed up on this time?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t do anything in front of me. He seemed fine when he texted me, and when I got there he unsteady on his feet and…nasty.”
“Mmmm.” Taryn didn’t seem surprised. “Sounds like Venom to me.”
“What’s Venom?” I remembered the Venomtinis that were offered at the Immortal Dilemma show.
“It’s really strong alcohol. It’s lethal to humans, but it’s strong enough to get a vampire drunk. And it makes Tristan mean.”
“So you know about this?”
“Yeah, you knew he was screwed up even when he was still alive. You saw it on the island. We tried to help him then, but now that he’s…gone, basically, there’s no stopping him. He thinks he’s invincible. He’s probably right.” She looked down, defeated, and played with the saucer underneath her mug.
“I’m sorry, Taryn. I know I keep saying that, but I really am.”

Flashback to this afternoon. I’m standing in line at TJ Maxx, minding my own business, buying pillows for the back bedroom. And what do I see in the Halloween decor but this:

As you can see from the backdrop of my living room, this little trinket was a must have.

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