A Kiss of Crimson

Other Books By Christina Quinn

Danse Macabre

Danse Macabre

Dark Awakenings

Deadly Deception (Summer 2017)

A Novel Of Shadows

Camera Obscura

Silently Devoured (Summer 2017)

Arwn’s Gift

Heart of the Forest

Eyes of Fire

A Little Red Book

A Kiss of Crimson

Seduction in Scarlet (April 2017)

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Special thanks to CL Mustafic, Jamila Lindsey, and Tonna Saunders.

Without the writing sprints we all know I would have never finished this.

One

What’s the Opposite of

Meet Cute?

Sadie

My best-friend—scratch that, my only friend—sat on the bed in my tiny studio apartment staring listlessly at the white popcorn ceiling. Her makeup was heavily applied, thick rings of blue-black eyeliner and dark gunmetal gray lined her piercing gray eyes. She was pretty. In fact, in my humble opinion, she was far, far prettier than I was.

Three years! Jen yelped tugging at her glossy golden blonde locks. She was taking it hard. Her boyfriend had dumped her a week ago, and she still hadn’t gotten over it. I couldn’t blame her; they had been dating since Freshman year. Mark and Jen met during orientation, back when neither of them really knew anyone on campus—other than me. It took them a few months, but they eventually hooked up. I never liked him much, but then again, I didn’t like most people—see evidence of my only having one friend.

It’s not so bad, I commented attempting to keep her spirits up.

Not so bad! She repeated. Writhing atop my covers in anguish, she rumpled my freshly washed comforter. We were supposed to go someplace I hadn’t heard of for dancing and drinks. She convinced me that we needed to go out, that she was ready to get back out there and meet new and interesting men. I was, however, supremely skeptical.

Yeah. Tonight we’ll go to the bar, and you’ll meet someone.

It’s not a bar, Sadie. It’s a club.

Club, bar, whatever. I’m going to spend my night drinking while you get wild on the dance floor. So it’s a bar to me.

You need to live a little.

Do I? I raised a brow, and she sighed exasperated.

Yeah. You’re twenty-one, you’re hot… but how many guys have you dated?

I’m not that hot. And… have you seen the losers that populate our campus?

You do have a point there. She sighed and popped up. Ready to go yet?

Nearly. I returned to staring in the mirror of my vanity.

I wasn’t unattractive. My hair was dyed a neat shade of red that the stylist had called a fashion color. It was somewhere between garnet and bright fire-engine red. My natural shade was much more subdued, as in true black.  My eyes weren’t anything special. Dark and almond shaped they hinted at an exotic lineage that my grandmother had meticulous notes on. My skin was olive enough that I could pull off any shade of red I wanted to while not being too warm to wear pastels.

The one thing about my appearance that I liked—no, loved—was my mouth. I had full, perfect, kissable lips that I loved to highlight with red lipstick. Tonight the shade was a bright, vibrant, eye-catching crimson. I kissed at the mirror and took the clips out of the hot rollers in my hair. My tresses cascaded down, brushing against the small of my back in perfect loose curls still warm to the touch.

See you are hot! I don’t get you. If I had that mouth or your body, I’d have landed someone better than that dickhead Mark.

We can agree to disagree.

I suppose we will.

Standing, I rolled my eyes. Jen was entitled to her opinion.

I fanned my fingers back through my hair and smoothed my sweater. The soft knit was form fitting, extenuating my body—I was admittedly built a little like Jessica Rabbit. It hugged my small waist enough to show off my figure. More importantly, it was off-the-shoulder, which I loved to death. Something about having my throat so exposed made me feel sexy. With ankle boots and black leggings, I thought I looked pretty damn good. Not quite the super model levels of Jen, but close enough that I might actually meet someone who didn’t make me ponder the benefits of self-induced lobotomies.

****

The club was so loud I could taste the pulse of the music on my tongue the moment the beefy black-clad bouncer waved us in. Jen started gyrating to the music before we cleared the big frosted glass wall that had the club’s logo embossed on it with the word ABADDON scrawled across the middle. The place was packed. A veritable sea of bodies covered what I assumed was a dance floor. There was hardly any space between people to see the bar—being short had many disadvantages.

The moment Jen made her way into the crowd some guy started dancing with her. That sort of thing did tend to happen to tall, leggy blondes who looked like supermodels. I gave her a thumbs up and made my way to the bar. It was our ritual. I’d grab a few drinks while she danced.

Before I turned twenty-one, the whole thing was a lot more boring for me. It wasn’t that I disliked dancing, but I hated having unknown guys grinding on me. I didn’t mind it so much when they were attractive, but I still wasn’t the biggest fan even then. I was, however, a fan of a good Cosmo.

I approached the bar and flagged down the bartender, flashing my bright neon green wristband.

What can I do for you, beauty? the bartender beamed at me. He had a smile like a wolf, predatory and sly.

Can I get a Cosmo, please?

Anything for you. He winked at me, and I smiled shyly back. I always had a hard time fending off unwanted attention.

The bartender wasn’t exactly my type. He seemed very boy next door. I would bet anything that the smiling bearded man with happy green irises had once played football in high school, and was possibly voted prom king. He had that look to him. Essentially he seemed the type of guy who would have ignored me in high school, or worse called me strange for my obsession with romance novels and art. 

Here you go, Honey. He returned with my drink, and on the napkin was his number. I gave him my credit card and pretended not to notice. But when he came back he wouldn’t let it go. I get off at three.

Oh, I might give you a call. I nodded, turning from the bar as I looked around for an empty table.

Every single inch of the place seemed to be completely packed. I scanned the club, and my gaze fell on Jen, who was grinding against a different guy now. They seemed to be talking—or rather shouting—to each other.

You go get ‘em, Jen, I whispered before taking a sip of my Cosmo. In no time she’d be over Mark, and have someone new. It didn’t take me long to get over the last guy I dated. Though admittedly, I hadn’t dated anyone since. It didn’t seem worth it. Also, no one really held my interest. I was an old soul looking for love on a college campus. One full of frat guys and jocks who didn’t seem to grasp why anyone would want to read a book for fun, let alone go to a museum.

It wasn’t that I had impossible standards, it was just that I had yet to meet a guy that didn’t either come on entirely too strong or too douchey. And for some reason the guys who caught my eye were never interested in me, so I had given up on trying more or less. The universe was conspiring against me, or at least it seemed that way. The last two guys I tried to ask out turned out to be gay—and dating each other.

Though, as my attention passed over the room once more, my gaze settled on a figure I hadn’t caught before. Seated alone in one of the booths was a man who made my heart stop just by looking at him.

He was perfection. He had dark hair, and deathly pale skin with tattoos that climbed his arms, disappearing under the sleeve of his t-shirt. His eyes were pale like silver in the flashing lights of the club and his mouth full, kissable and inviting. His gaze met mine and the whole world seemed to slow to a screeching halt. It was like someone pressed pause on the club around us. I saw nothing but him. I heard nothing but my own breathing and heartbeat as he stared at me.

Am I drunk? I can’t be, I barely had a sip!

His lips curled into a careful smile as if daring me to approach. Unfortunately, I was too chicken to accept the dare. Instead, I looked down at my drink, and the world crashed in on me again. The music blared to life once more, and the people continued their dancing. After taking another swig, I shook the cobwebs away.

He probably wasn’t really looking at me anyway.

Letting out the softest of disappointed sighs, I went back to watching my friend dance with yet another guy. I blinked a few times as she led him from the dance floor to the bar. Smiling to myself I finished off my Cosmo. I figured I’d stay for another hour and then ask if she wanted to go. I knew she could dance all night—as she used to do on occasion to piss Mark off. It was well established that it took a lot to get her off the dancefloor.

My attention drifted back to the booth where Mr. Perfect had been seated, only to find it empty. Pursing my lips, I made my way to the bar, keeping an eye on Jen.

Six more Cosmos and four check-ins by Jen later I realized I had too much to drink. The world wasn’t exactly spinning, but it was damn close to it. I couldn’t stare at the lights on the seething crowd without feeling particularly nauseous.

Jen dragged her new friend over, moving us to Mr. Perfect’s unoccupied booth. She pushed the guy down in the seat across from me and perched herself in his lap. She then started making out with her man-chair loud enough that could I hear their moans even over the music.

I think I need some air. I furrowed my brows. My whole body felt incredibly warm, I was melting from the inside out.

You okay, Sweetie? Jen asked breaking from her intense lip-lock with her obvious rebound, to glance over at me.

Yeah, I need to cool down.

Alright, stay by the bouncer, and text me if you need me?

I slid from the cushioned seat. Yes, mom. I teased, swaying as I stood. After steadying myself on the table, I headed for the door.

The short trek from the far corner to the entrance felt like it took ages before I finally reached the blissfully cool air. Though I gave Jen shit for her request, I did follow through, making certain to sit on the planter just outside by the line.

You gonna’ make it, girlie? the bouncer inquired as I closed my heavy lids.

Mhm, just needed some cool air.

Want some water?

Nah, I’m fine. Thanks, though.

Anytime.

For a while, I sat with my feet dangling off the edge of the massive concrete flowerpot. I had no concept of the time that passed. The endlessly curving line dissipated as the bouncer said they weren’t letting anyone new in. Before going inside he told me to yell, and he’d come running if someone bothered me.

Around the time my butt was starting to fall asleep a large group came out of the club. One of the masses paused when he saw me. Rubber-necking, he waved off his friends. He was one of those guys who spent entirely too much time in the gym and on his hair. He didn’t even seem phased by the brisk early spring night in his black tank top and jeans.

Waiting for someone? He asked tugging up his shirt a little, that tactic was nothing new. It was the look at my abs while I pretend not to show them off gesture. They were nice, but I was too sick feeling to care.

Nope, trying not to vomit, I responded quickly taking slow deep breaths attempting to hold nausea at bay.

Really? Because it seems like you’re waiting for me. He sat beside me. You’re hella sexy, you know that?

Thanks. My problem reared its head again. I didn’t know how to let someone down. Well, I knew how to do it and rip their hearts out, but I could never bring myself to do that.

That shirt looks really good on you, though, I bet it would look even better on my floor. I’d give you a good time. You want to have a good time, right? It was then that I noticed his hand creeping up my thigh—with the emphasis on creep.

I’m here with a friend, we do this whole come together leave together thing. Sorry.

C’mon baby. By now his hand had reached my upper thigh, and I had gone from mildly annoyed to thoroughly disturbed.

No! Get the hell off me! I went to push his hand away, but he grabbed mine and pushed it against his crotch as he tried to kiss me. I was desperately hoping that I’d throw up on him, but he wasn’t on me long enough for it.

One second he was practically on top of me, and the next he was on the ground beside the planter, with Mr. Perfect standing over him. Under the streetlights, those eyes of his were very blue. They were also full of all sorts of rage and anger that he turned full force on Creepy-McGrabby. They stared at each other wordlessly for a handful of seconds, eventually the guy pulled himself from the pavement and walked away.

I don’t need this shit! Creepy-McGrabby exclaimed angrily.

I, for the most part, ignored him and slipped from the planter with the intentions of going back inside.

Tha— I didn’t even get a chance to finish speaking as the nausea I was barely holding at bay came to a head. I turned quickly and vomited everything I had ever eaten since birth into the planter—it just would not stop coming. Pale, cool fingers raked back through my hair holding it out of the way as I continued to spew. He rubbed my back in slow relaxing circles until I finished. As I straightened to standing he handed me a napkin.

Are you alright? his voice was deep, dark, and soothing with a touch of menace. He sounded as perfect as he looked, a treat for all the senses…and I just threw up in front of him. I blushed and dabbed the vomit from my lips—thankful that my 16-hour smudge-proof lipstick was also vomit-proof.

Y-yeah, I think. I nodded too quickly and swayed heavily losing balance. Before I could catch myself, his arm was around me, preventing me from smacking my head on the