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

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 staring 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!”

A flicker crossed her face.

It was slight, barely lasted for longer than a millisecond, but it was enough to make me take a step back.

I forgot where I was.

My heel slid in a pool of… something, and I did something quite inelegant and unvampire-like to keep from falling on my behind.

Evangeline snickered at the sight of my flailing arms, her lips the same