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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.


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





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

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