Vampire Girl: Crimson Cocktail Read online

  Crimson Cocktail

  Karpov Kinrade

  Contents

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Also by Karpov Kinrade

  About the Author

  Copyright

  http://KarpovKinrade.com

  Copyright © 2018 Karpov Kinrade

  Cover Art Copyright © 2018 Karpov Kinrade

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  Published by Daring Books

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  First Edition

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  eBook License Notes

  You may not use, reproduce or transmit in any manner, any part of this book without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations used in critical articles and reviews, or in accordance with federal Fair Use laws. All rights are reserved.

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only; it may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please return to your eBook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Disclaimer

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination, or the author has used them fictitiously.

  Chapter 1

  A thirst like I’ve never before experienced wakes me from a deep sleep full of vaguely haunting dreams. When I peel my eyes open enough to take stock of where I am, I realize three things at once: I’m in a bed not my own, there is a stranger’s arm draped around me, and… we are both naked.

  I study the arm in a detached kind of way, like a scientist studying a strange animal. His muscles are well-defined, and his skin is a shade lighter than mine, which is saying something given my pale complexion. His hand is manicured with long tapering fingers that I imagine are perfect for playing piano. It’s an attractive arm, but one completely unfamiliar to me.

  The fourth thing that hits me is that I can’t recall a single thing from the last night.

  Nothing. Not a whiff of a memory floats inside my confused brain.

  The last thing I can remember before this moment is my best friend dragging me to a club on the strip after work to "blow off steam." As if working as librarians in Nevada is so stress-inducing. Something else niggles at my mind, something I can't quiet latch onto. I was meant to do something else last night. Something I planned on leaving early for.

  I'm sincerely befuddled by this situation. I'm a careful person by nature and not prone to reckless acts. Sleeping with a stranger is as reckless as they come in my book.

  An ache at the base of my throat distracts me from my thoughts as a deep thirst, or maybe hunger, claws at me. It's intense enough that I know I won’t be able to focus on anything else until I drink or eat something. I carefully extricate myself from the strange man’s hold and scoot to the edge of the bed to sit up.

  It’s then that I realize a fifth thing.

  I’m wearing a wedding ring.

  And not just some cheap gold band, either.

  I’m wearing a rock to rival all rocks. A glittering diamond the size of a small egg is tucked between sapphires. It looks antique. Art Deco maybe? I gawk at it, confused. Surely it isn’t real. But damn if it doesn’t look real.

  I suck in my breath, and all thoughts are lost as the scent of something delicious overtakes me. My eyes land on the crimson cocktail sitting on the nightstand next to me, and my mouth literally waters. With drool. It isn’t a good look, and I have to wipe my chin with the back of my hand to keep from dribbling on the expensive sheets.

  I reach for the cocktail, not even bothering to question why I’m craving liquor first thing in the morning, and I sniff. I can’t place the smell, but it’s tantalizing and sets all of my senses on fire. I take a tentative sip, expecting something with blood orange, or maybe a Bloody Mary, but it’s nothing like that. It’s viscous and coats my throat in a way that eases all worry and care. I drain the cocktail without pause and have to force myself not to lick the glass clean.

  Who am I kidding? I totally licked the glass clean. You know us librarians… wild to the core.

  Whatever was in that drink effects me instantly. My whole body pulses with energy and adrenaline surges through me. My senses are heightened. It was unnaturally silent in this room thanks to a private suite in a fancy Vegas hotel. But now, I can hear all the little things that keep the room functioning. The buzz from the lights. The currents of electricity surging through the wires in the walls. I can even hear guests on other floors—the sounds of chewing or early morning lovemaking. And that’s when I begin to worry about what was in the drink.

  Am I hallucinating?

  Maybe the stranger in bed drugged me last night, and that’s why I can’t remember anything?

  And now I’ve just voluntarily drugged myself.

  I rush to the bathroom without bothering to dress first. As soon as I get to the toilet, I do my best to induce vomiting. If that drink was drugged, maybe I can get most of it out before it’s absorbed. My mind whirls, planning as I lean over the porcelain rim.

  I need to get whatever I just drank out of my system. Then I need to get dressed and find my phone—or any phone for that matter.

  After that, I need to get out of the room and call Molly, find out what the hell happened last night, and make sure she’s okay.

  Once I’m sure she’s okay, I’ll head to the ER and have them do a rape kit, just in case. I’ll also need STD testing and a morning-after pill. This has never happened to me before. I’ve never had a one-night stand. I’ve never been sexually assaulted. But I live in Las Vegas, so of course, I’ve heard stories. And naturally, I have a contingency plan. What woman doesn’t?

  Oh, and before I escape this hotel suite, I need to find the identity of the man in bed. In case he did do something to me.

  When my stomach is emptied, and red bile floats in the water, I flush and stand so I can then lean against the sink. I splash water over my face, wash out my mouth, and then stare at my reflection in the mirror. I look more pale than normal, which isn’t surprising given a night of drinking and god knows what else.

  What is shocking is that I actually look effing amazing. And I don’t mean pretty-good-all-thing-considered amazing. I mean photoshopped-glam-pic amazing. My skin is flawless. The permanent wrinkle in my brow—what Molly calls my librarian line—is gone. A pimple that had just started to form by my nose has disappeared. Dryness. Sun damage. All those little imperfections we get used to… all of it gone! My eyes, normally a dullish brown, now sparkle and look like they’ve been run through a filter. Even my cheekbones seem more pronounced. Sexier. My mousy brown hair looks shiny and rich, like dark chocolate. And everything else is… perkier, let’s just say.

  "What the hell happened to me last night?" I whisper to myself.

  I’m not prepared for a deep British voice to reply. "Do you remember nothing, then?"

  I turn, shocked to see the man attached to the arm standing in the bathroom door. He’s as naked as I am, but this doesn’t actually bother me. Believe it or not, I have a relatively low modesty scale and am perfectly comfortable in my own skin. Even Molly is shocked by this. So I don’t attempt to cover up when he stares at me, and I don’t avert my eyes from him, either.

  For the record, the man’s body is a specimen of god-like perfection, and I do not make that claim lightly. He’s tall. At least six-four, with washboard abs, a face chiseled from marble w
ith a dark stubble contrasting against his skin, piercing blue eyes, and dark hair that looks purposefully disheveled even though I know he just got out of bed. I’ve had my share of lovers. Never one-night stands, as I said, but I’ve been around the block a time or two. And never have I ever seen a…

  "I see you drank your cocktail?"

  I pull my thoughts back to the matter at hand, which is most definitely not his… man-bits.

  "It was drugged," I accuse, trying to seem imposing and likely failing.

  He smirks. Smirks! As if this weren’t deadly serious. "I can see how you would think so, and you likely have a lot of questions—"

  "So you admit you drugged me?" I ask. My fear is pulsing at the surface of my mind, but I shove it down. I can give into that later, once I’m safe. For now, I must stay strong. Focused.

  "I did not drug you," he says. His voice so deep, so smooth, that I nearly melt into it.

  "Then what’s wrong with me? Why don’t I remember anything?" I hold up my left hand and point to the enormous rock. "And what’s this? Did we get married?"

  I think I will die of embarrassment if he says yes. What kind of person gets drunk, marries a stranger in Vegas, and then forgets it? And I live here! I’m no random tourist. People will find out. I can only imagine Mildred’s face when she hears about this. She’ll never let me live it down, and she may be pushing eighty, but that old bat has no plans to retire. I’ll never hear the end of it.

  "We did get married. Though, that wasn’t part of the plan. And that’s not actually the most significant thing that happened to you last night."

  I look down at his hand, and he’s also wearing a wedding ring. It’s similar in style to mine but more masculine. They seemed to have been made for each other.

  "What’s your name?" I can barely get the words out from the mortifying shame of it.

  His lips curl as if amused by my distress. Cocky one, isn’t he? "Sebastian Kingston, at your service," he says as he gives a little mock bow.

  "Do you know my name?" I ask, the challenge clear in my voice.

  He raises an eyebrow. "Ember Elaine White. You’re a twenty-nine-year-old librarian who lives alone and is considering getting a cat but hasn’t found the right one. You fancied becoming an English teacher at one point, but discovered a deep love of the library and thus chose library sciences when it came time to declare your focus for your Master’s program. But you didn’t stop there. You went on for a PhD and then spent a year traveling the world exploring all the great libraries before settling into a position in Las Vegas. You like chocolate, but never with fruit. You hate lemons, but you love the smell. And when you get really excited, your face scrunches up in the most adorable manner."

  I exhale deeply and lean against the sink, suddenly exhausted. I don’t think anyone but Molly knows that much about me. Maybe not even her. I’m a private person. I’m not on social media. I prefer books to gadgets. I don’t share every little detail of my life everywhere. I’ve often thought I was born in the wrong era, but I do relish my independence, despite lingering social sexism, and would not want to live in a time where I would be considered property.

  "Did the drugs make me say all that?" I whisper. I’m no longer attempting any bravado. Now I’m just confused and scared.

  He steps forward and raises a hand to gently brush a strand of hair out of my face. "Ember, there were never any drugs. At least not while you were with me. This is possibly a side effect of being turned."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "Watch my face and try not to panic."

  That kind of language isn’t helping matters any, but I steel myself for what’s about to come.

  His lips part, and the shift happens so fast I almost don’t notice. But there they are. His canines have elongated into sharp daggers.

  Adrenaline surges in me, and I attempt to move away from him, but he grabs my arms and forces me to face my reflection. "Look, Ember. Look at your mouth."

  My curiosity overrides my fear, and I face the mirror as he stands behind me. He’s a full head taller than me, and I should be able to see him in the mirror, but I can’t. He’s invisible.

  But I’m still visible, and I look at my own teeth, now elongated in my mouth.

  "I’m… I’m a vampire?"

  Chapter 2

  I need clothes for the discussion that will follow. And I need him to be wearing something as well. Unfortunately, all I have at my disposal is a slinky silver dress Molly insisted I wear last night. It’s better than nothing, I suppose. Though that's debatable considering how uncomfortable it is. I surreptitiously glance around looking for a bathrobe, but finding none immediately available I squeeze myself back into the nightmare fabric.

  Once we are both dressed, Sebastian calls for room service, though, I question why, wondering if they serve blood.

  Yes, it finally hit me that the crimson cocktail I guzzled down this morning wasn’t blood oranges or a Bloody Mary. It was just blood.

  But Sebastian said I will still need food for a bit as my body completes the transformation. Until that time, I’m more vulnerable than I was even as a human. But soon, my strength and stamina will increase, and I will find myself capable of things I never before imagined.

  As we take our seats in the living room, he continues to explain. "You aren’t fully a vampire yet," he says. "That’s why you could see yourself in the mirror this morning. That will fade until you no longer have a reflection."

  "How did this happen?" I should be more scared. Or angry. Or something. But I find myself mostly curious. An otherworldly event occurred last night, and I need to understand it.

  "For reasons I’m still trying to piece together, you were targeted by a group of rogue vampires who are wanted for a series of murders throughout the world and, most recently, here in Las Vegas. You would have been their next victim had I not found you in time. I had the choice between letting you die and turning you. I chose the latter."

  A knock at the door interrupts us—room service has arrived—and I use the extra moments to compose my thoughts. I nearly died last night? And what of Molly? Where did she end up? Is she dead? Also, as a completely vain aside, how will I ever apply makeup properly if I can’t see my own reflection?

  I visually search the room for my cell phone and see it peeking out from under the bar. I stand and am about to get it when the door crashes open and the room service cart goes flying, sending orange juice, pancakes, muffins, and fruit everywhere. Three large men dressed in black suits charge inside, drawing guns.

  Sebastian growls in a primal kind of way. "Ember, to the bathroom."

  Before I can blink, he disarms the men, then throws the biggest one against the wall as if he were a feather pillow.

  I rush into the bathroom, closing and locking the door before scrambling to find something with which to defend myself. The only thing I can find is a curling iron, so I plug it in and hope it’s the kind that heats fast.

  My hands are shaking as I clutch it and wait, listening as a battle ensues on the other side of the door.

  I feel as if I’ve walked into one of my books. Vampires? Great battles in a hotel suite? Drinking blood for breakfast?

  I’d pinch myself to see if I were dreaming, but I know I’m awake. I know this is all somehow real. And I know I can’t let it derail my focus right now. Not if I want to survive the day.

  After a moment, the sound of fighting subsides. I hold my breath and wait to see who comes to the bathroom.

  The curling iron is hot now.

  I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.

  My impulse is to scoot as far away as possible, but I don’t want to back myself against a wall or trap myself in a corner. I try to recall the self-defense lessons I took when the library did our safety week. Unfortunately, that was several years ago and none of the lessons covered fighting vampires… and I’m fresh out of wooden stakes. Where’s Buffy when you need her?

  Still, I position myself in what feels vaguely l
ike a fighting stance, hot iron at the ready.

  There’s a knock at the door, and my heart nearly stops, until I hear his voice.

  "Ember, open up. It’s safe, for now."

  I put the curling iron down and dash to the door. When it swings open I throw myself into his arms without thought. He holds me tightly and comforts me as I shake.

  "It’s all right, love. You’re in shock. You need blood, food, and rest. But first, we have to get out of here."

  I pull away enough to see around him. To see the bodies littering the expensive wood floors.

  "They’re… dead?"

  I look up into his eyes, but they show no remorse, just steely determination. "It was them or us. Would you rather I let them have us?"

  My perspective shifts, and I glare at the bodies of the monsters who attacked us. "I hope you didn’t leave a tip!"

  Sebastian laughs, and the sound is startling, even to him, judging by his expression. "I knew last night you were special. No one has ever made me laugh the way you do. You have such a unique way of looking at the world, Ember, and that’s saying something given how long I’ve been around."

  I frown. His words are sincere, but . . .

  "I wish I could remember. You’re a stranger to me, but I feel… something between us."

  "Your body remembers what your mind does not. But your memories will start to come back as the transition completes. Be patient."

  There's more he's not telling me. I can see it in his eyes. He cups my face and looks as if he’s about to kiss me, and I can feel a stirring in my belly that means I’ll likely let him. But then his head jerks up. "We have to go. Now. More are on the way."