Kiss of Crimson Samantha Coville (best short books to read .TXT) 📖

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