Kiss of Crimson Read online

  Kiss of Crimson

  Samantha Coville

  Fionn Jameson

  Copyright © 2021 by Samantha Coville and Fionn Jameson

  All rights reserved.

  Book cover design by Kiff Shaik of Solidarity Graphics.

  Editing by Chelsie Cardin.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the authors’ imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locals is entirely coincidental.

  Contents

  1. Eloise

  2. Arden

  3. Eloise

  4. Arden

  5. Eloise

  6. Arden

  7. Eloise

  8. Arden

  9. Eloise

  10. Arden

  11. Eloise

  12. Arden

  13. Eloise

  14. Arden

  15. Eloise

  16. Arden

  17. Eloise

  18. Arden

  19. Eloise

  20. Arden

  21. Eloise

  Epilogue - Arden

  ABOUT SAMANTHA

  ABOUT FIONN

  One

  Eloise

  If there’s one thing I love most in this world, it’s fairytales. I’m pretty sure I’ve spent half of my life reading them, absorbing them, cherishing them. And the day my sister got married felt like a fairytale, but for all the wrong reasons. It wasn’t because she found her prince charming or that their love had prevailed through many challenges. The fairytale had nothing to do with her. It had everything to do with the fact that I wasn’t allowed to attend and that my mother was going to keep me locked away all day, as was the norm. I was Cinderella, not allowed to go the ball.

  But I wasn’t surprised. Mother never let me attend any of the social gatherings that she did so well. The mansion I even lived in hosted what some regarded as the most elegant balls in East Trafford. Had I graced any of them? Certainly not.

  So I sat on the edge of my four-poster bed and watched the back of my sister’s head as she leaned closer to my vanity mirror. Her shoulder-length ash brown hair had been curled meticulously to fall into soft ringlets. I could see in her reflection that she was applying the finishing touches to her clear lip gloss. The white dress she wore was not a traditional human wedding dress, as it only covered her knees and was simple in design. But it was fitting for the bride of a vampire.

  She set aside the lip gloss bottle and picked up a string of pearls that mother had given her for the occasion. She held them up to her neck, smiled at how it matched her dress, and then locked eyes with me in the mirror.

  “Eloise, would you mind helping me get this necklace on?”

  I pushed myself off the bed, brushing out the wrinkles in my skirt and taking a few steps over to come up behind her. I took the ends of the necklace from her fingers and carefully latched the clasp. She thanked me and reached for a container of blush powder.

  She must have noticed the frown that covered my face, because she glanced at me with a matching expression, slumping her shoulders. “I wish you could be there, El. But there’s only supposed to be a handful of people, anyway. Vampire weddings are not an extravagant affair.”

  “Doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be there. I don’t even understand why mother won’t let me go to any of the parties, but my own sister’s wedding? Madge, you have to admit this is ridiculous.” I crossed my arms over my chest and tried my best not to throw a full-blown adult hissy fit. I wouldn’t stoop that low.

  Madge stood up from her chair, her dress flowing around her knees. I had to admit she looked like an angel. She was only three years older than me, but she seemed even older. She always held herself with a poise and elegance. I, on the other hand, was known for destroying plates and falling up stairs on occasion.

  My sister threw her arms around me, pulling me into a hug and squeezing the breath out of me. Leaning this close, I could smell the floral perfume she had sprayed on. She whispered into my ear. “I know it’s not ideal. But I promise soon you’ll come to visit Antony and me at our home. Promise me you’re happy for me today?”

  I pulled back and looked deep into her eyes, a tear forming in mine. “Of course I’m happy for you, you big idiot. How could I not be?”

  Whatever worries she had about me having a meltdown disappeared and her contagious smile returned to her bright face. She gave me one last death grip of a hug and headed out into the hallway. She turned to the left, which meant she was heading toward her room. She probably needed to grab a few more items before making her way down the stairs to the foyer. The servants would have already brought all her luggage down at this point. Admittedly, she was running ten minutes late.

  I took a quick look at myself in the mirror Madge had just been sitting in front of. My mousy brown hair was much longer than my sister’s. It flowed down to my waist, naturally wavy, but not curly. My face looks younger than Madge’s, not necessarily due to my age, but due to the soft angles and baby soft complexion I have. My body had delicate curves in all the right places, and I stayed fairly fit at all times.

  I deserve a husband too. I’m 21, I’m intelligent, I’m not grotesque. Someone would be happy to have me. But how am I supposed to find one when I’m hidden away all the damn time?

  Madge’s voice rang out from downstairs. I must have been studying myself longer than I thought, and time slipped away without notice. I started a slow jog out of my room and down the staircase. It was grand to say the least, more of a centerpiece than anything. The mahogany of each step was perfectly polished and shone in the light of the chandelier that hung above it. It could easily hold more than a couple dozen people at a time and opened out in a large hardwood flooring entryway that greeted guests.

  My sister was already there, giving the servants who helped raise her the final goodbye embraces. One was carrying the luggage out the door to the car that would be parked outside. My mother watched on approvingly.

  She was a commanding woman when it came to looks. When she waltzed into a room, you could feel the energy of authority rolling off of her. She was attractive but made it clear she was strictly off limits to anyone and everyone, and no one had dared disrespect her in that regard yet.

  That’s because my mother is a Blood Trader. It’s a highly illegal line of work, selling human blood to a vampire clientele, but my mother had managed her empire quite nicely on her own for more than two decades. Her piercing grey eyes have seen it all.

  Her hair was tied back into a loose bun, strands escaping and framing her face. She wore a full-length day dress in a deep burgundy hue, both appearing elegant and comfortable at the same time. Once Madge had finished her goodbyes, she ushered the girl toward the door, complaining about the time.

  Madge exited, visibly holding back tears as she left her childhood home. And my mother turned to me, her face soft in sympathy. She opened her arms invitingly and motioned for me to come join her, and I did. She held me there for a moment and I felt warm and loved. But when she pulled away and reminded me that my piano tutor was coming while she was gone, I soured once again. I should be going with them. I shouldn’t be staying behind at the house.

  Either mother didn’t notice or she ignored my distress because she was quickly out the front double doors and on her way to a car I couldn’t see from the entryway. One of the servants closed the doors to keep the cold air out, and I slumped against the railing of
the staircase.

  My fists clenched tight, curling into balls. I could feel my fingernails digging into my skin. Ever since I was ten, I had begged and pleaded to be let into one of my mother’s balls. Every time she said no and told me I wasn’t old enough or wasn’t ready. But this was the final straw. If a twenty-one-year-old can’t attend her own sister’s wedding, when is she ever ready?

  My mind was made up on the spot, no matter how ridiculous it was. The next soiree would be happening inside the mansion the following evening. And mother be damned, I was going to attend it.

  Two

  Arden

  The ski mask itched and stung like a son of a gun, but it was necessary.

  Bones shattered under my knuckles, blood soaked into the cuffs of my jacket.

  Behind me, an awful, cacophonous shriek rent the air and the metallic sawing of a much-used Damascus dagger wrenched from its sheath made my teeth grit.

  A muffled groan, a sudden intake of breath, followed by silence.

  Nothing new, of course.

  Evangeline never drew to wound.

  The illegal but not so well hidden blood repository belonging to the Kaminsky crime syndicate was only lightly guarded, no doubt they didn't anticipate getting attacked.

  Certainly no one would dare raise the ire of the mob who owned half the cops in town!

  Surely, no one in town would have the gall!

  Too bad for the Kaminskies; we weren't from around here.

  Together, Evangeline and I disposed of the other four vampire guards stationed around the large, low-ceilinged warehouse on the outskirts of the city the Kaminskies had the sheer nerve to call their own.

  My earpiece crackled as I rendezvoused with the tall, crimson-haired vampire next to the warehouse west entrance, the side most hidden from the main highway where the occasional car sped past, their headlights dancing yellow along the corrugated walls before disappearing around the bend.

  "Yo, Arden, you got that all locked down tight?"

  I winced and tapped the earpiece receiver, trying to ignore the smell of vampire blood drying on my clothes.

  Jesus, that stink was worse than vinegar left in a mausoleum for a week. I always thought the general inedibility was what kept us vampires from tearing each other apart.

  "Yeah," I replied under my breath as Evangeline pulled out a pack of wet wipes from her back pocket. God only knew where she had the space; the black leather pants fit her incredibly shapely form like a second skin.

  Ramon clucked his tongue. "Man, you sure you got everyone? You know what happened last time, homie. Shepard's still in the hospital. That was a month ago!"

  Evangeline snickered as she swiped at the steadily disappearing bloodstains under her long, sharp fingernails. "What's wrong, meat bag? Too scared to come play with us?"

  "For Christ’s sake, Evangeline, give him a break." I shot her a glance that merely got me a saucy grin in response.

  Then again, Evangeline didn't give a crap about anything that had a pulse, not unless it could give her blood and sex, and in that order.

  To be honest, I'm not even sure if she gave a rat's behind about the sex part; I think she was only going through the paces because vampires and sex go hand in hand, no matter how awful the vampire looks, and Evangeline, for all her faults, would've made Helen of Troy look like that awkward girl from eighth-grade with spots and braces.

  "The vampires are taken care of," I assured Ramon. "Bring the van around. The sooner we get this over with, the better."

  "Well... if you say so," he drawled.

  Evangeline's eyes rolled so far back in her head, the whites were the only things visible. "We say so, meat bag. We did our job, you do yours."

  There was another eye-watering crackle that had me scrabbling to turn down the earpiece before it could render me deaf for the night. Had I been human, I would've been genuinely worried about my hearing, but that's the thing about vampirism; almost nothing is permanent, not even what would technically classify as death.

  But I needed my hearing for the next three hours, especially if I wanted this raid to go well.

  This was the second time Jardin had set me in charge of a raiding party. The first time, I had screwed up royally and missed a single vampire who had been patrolling an area that we'd mistakenly thought to be flooded.

  That's when Shepard almost got his head ripped off his shoulders trying to transport over five thousand liters of human blood into the waiting van, and I thought I'd lost my chance to truly establish myself as Benedict Jardin's right-hand man.

  I'm not sorry to say, I was more upset about losing Jardin's faith in me than Shepard's admittedly grievous injuries.

  Humans are so fragile, and there are so many of them.

  They're worse than cockroaches.

  At least those disgusting bugs don't die if you tear off a limb or two.

  But humans?

  Forget about it.

  Humans’ll die if you so much as look at them wrong.

  Still, they had their uses.

  Once the van rolled into position just around the corner from the loading dock, Evangeline knocked on the door, adopting a sultry mien that made my stomach churn.

  The humans inside didn’t have a chance.

  The moment the idiot opened the door, she had him splayed against the opposite wall, a hand wrapped around his thick throat as he steadily turned red, the veins popping in his neck.

  “Evangeline,” I warned. “Don’t even think about it. They’re not vampires. We don’t kill humans.”

  She pouted. “Oh, come now. Not even one?”

  “Not even one.”

  She sighed. “You’re no fun.”

  I already knew what her idea of fun meant, and it was goddamned terrifying.

  While Evangeline guarded the door, I made quick work of the seven other human employees inside the warehouse, tossing them into what appeared to be a utility closet before opening the loading dock and letting our humans do what they did best.

  Steal.

  The humans were halfway through loading the van when one of them glanced at me, his face contorted with the effort from carrying the heavy refrigerated crates.

  “Yo, where’s the demon wench?”

  I grimaced and looked past my shoulder, even though I knew Evangeline wasn’t within earshot; had she been, the poor bastard would’ve already had his throat ripped open from ear to ear before I even thought to turn my head.

  “She’s… outside. Watching the door.”

  I wish I sounded half as confident as I looked.

  Ramon clicked his tongue as he returned from the van. “Man, I’d check on her, if I were you. That is one unstable lady, Imma telling you.”

  “Lady would be an overstatement,” I muttered. “Fine, I’ll be back. Get the van all loaded and ready to go in five minutes.”

  My trepidation grew a thousandfold when I got to the door and found it open and unmanned.

  That and the thick smell of blood that was making my head spin.

  “Crap, crap, crap,” I whispered as I sprinted to the utility closet.

  The door that I was sure I closed was now half-open.

  My steps slowed as I approached the doorway, my heart somewhere near the vicinity of my knees.

  The sickly sweet tang of human blood filtered through the mask as I stared at the scene of carnage spread out in front of me.

  And when I say spread out… I mean it.

  Evangeline sat on a pile of discarded refrigeration crates in the far corner, licking her Damascus blade clean.

  Her teeth were smeared in crimson as she grinned at me.

  “Hey, you’re late. But hey, better to be fashionably late than too early, no?”

  Behind me, someone threw up and the stink of vomit coupled with the nigh-irresistible aroma of human blood made my mouth water and the bile rise in the back of my throat at the same time.

  Talk about a conflict of interest.

  Studiously avoiding stari
ng at the human male spread open, the white of his rib cage made all the more brilliant amidst all that vermilion liquid seeping from the once-breathing body, I stepped over the various limbs, arms splayed out for balance.

  If I slipped and fell, Evangeline would never let me hear the end of it.

  And if there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s the chick’s biting sarcasm, which is often sharper than that damned blade of hers.

  “Evangeline.” I tried breathing through my mouth, but screw it, I could taste the goddamned blood! “Mind explaining what the hell happened?”

  She tilted her head to the side just so, like an innocent child.

  Innocence, hah, that’s something she probably lost at birth. Evil like Evangeline isn’t taught, it’s born.

  “What do you mean, Arden?” Her chuckle was throaty, almost seductive.

  “I mean, this.” I waved a hand at the… room, no, execution chamber.

  There’d been eight human hostages that I’d meant to leave tied up until Albert Kaminsky could drop in to see why his calls weren’t being answered.

  This was… so much worse.

  The blade shone in the bright light as she slipped it back into the sheath belted around her slim waist. “Well, what did you expect me to do? They were getting a little… feisty.”

  One of the men, maybe Ramon, let out a snort at such a blatant attempt at a lie.

  But none of the humans said a thing.

  They didn’t want to die.

  If Evangeline wanted to kill them, not even I could stop her.

  And that killed me a little inside, more than I’d ever care to admit.

  “They were tied up. Gagged. On the floor.” I tugged the woolen mask off, since there was little point in worrying about any of Kaminsky’s men seeing my face anymore. “Damn it, Evangeline!”