Crimson Midnight (A New Adult Dark Urban Fantasy Series) (The Crimson Series Book 1)

by Amos Cassidy

  He danced really hard to the throbbing bass. He let it course through him, vibrate in his bones, pump his adrenalin, desperate to flush out the image of those violet eyes from his brain. But it couldn’t. No matter how much he focused on dancing with these men, their eyes on him, their attention solely on him, he couldn’t get Ossian out of his mind. His plan was failing him. He was supposed to feel better.

  Raven grabbed the sports man, danced up close to him. He could feel the man’s hard on and he growled with pleasure, getting off on turning someone on.

  Another man shimmied up close to him, sliding a hand down his back. Raven removed his shirt and hands went to his chest. He continued dancing to the dirty beat, up close to the men, the heat and thrill pumping more adrenaline and heightening his sexual desire. It was an orgy of flesh and he was definitely in the mood for a fuck party. That would really push Ossian out of his head. Yeah, one was fine. But with more men there was so much more to do.

  “I’m going to take you home,” he said to the sports man, a brown-haired man and a blonde– the one who was grabbing his buttocks, “and we’re all…” Violet eyes flashed in his mind and he lost his train of thought.

  “We’re all gonna what?” The sports man asked excitedly.

  “We’re…” Those beautiful violet eyes, that black hair… “ARGH!” he roared out loud, startling the other dancers. “Sorry, I can’t do this.” He began to extricate himself from the tangle of hot limbs.

  The blonde pushed closer. “But we were just getting started.”

  “Yeah, and you were about to suggest an orgy,” The sports bloke looked put out.

  “I’ve suddenly lost my appetite,” Raven said. “Where’s my shirt?”

  The blonde handed it to him. “Is it us?”

  Raven buttoned up his shirt. “It’s me.”

  “Your loss.” The sports bloke put an arm around the blonde and another around the man with brown hair. “There’s still three of us.”

  The men grinned and resumed dancing.

  Raven left them to it and went to sit in one of the free booths that were dotted around the edges of the dance floor.

  No one followed this time. He cursed himself for that. He could’ve had almost any one of those men he danced with but now they all danced without him, throwing him occasional looks and then continuing with their fun. It really pissed him off that he had just blown his chances of having an amazing all night sex fest. The whole point was to forget Ossian, but still he was driven crazy, unable to shake him off.

  “Raven?”

  He looked up to see Brandon standing beside him. “Hello, Brandon.”

  “Are you okay?” He hovered uncertainly, eyeing the seat beside Raven.

  “I’m fine, just a little dizzy I guess.” Raven said.

  “I heard your roar.” Brandon said.

  Raven quirked an eyebrow at him. “Is that so?”

  Brandon suddenly looked alarmed. “Sorry, I, uh…it just seemed like you were, uh, frustrated. I just came to see if you were okay. I’ll leave you alone.”

  Brandon turned to leave.

  “Wait! Please…join me…if you like.”

  Brandon smiled and sat down on the curved sofa. He took a sip of his drink and placed it onto the black table.

  “Do you come here much?” Raven asked.

  “Not really, I’ve been here a few times but I find it a little intimidating to be honest. It seems that all the guys have only one thing on their mind.”

  And I’m one of them, Raven thought. “Aren’t you here for that reason too?”

  Brandon pushed his glasses up his nose nervously before he spoke. “In a way I suppose.” He studied the black top table. “I’m looking for validation. No one ever notices me. I’m the perpetual wallflower.” He hesitated briefly before continuing. “Not like you. I saw you when you came in. You really turned heads. Well you would. You’re…beautiful.” Brandon gathered up his drink and gulped it down, coughed and shuddered. “That was a double vodka and orange,” he said breathlessly. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  The contrite expression on Brandon’s face was both sweet and funny. Raven chuckled, moving closer to him. “That was a little unwise.” He placed a hand on Brandon’s shoulder. Brandon looked up at him and actually gulped. And for the first time Raven really noticed him– his warm brown eyes, his wavy brown hair, his gentle smile, the way he nervously adjusted his glasses every two minutes. He found himself moving a little closer.

  Brandon tensed as Raven closed the gap between them. Adjusting his glasses again he licked his suddenly dry lips. “I promised myself I wouldn’t drink anymore. I have a tendency to drink more than I can handle. It gives me way too much confidence.” He babbled.

  “Like at Rainbow Rave.” Raven captured his gaze and held it.

  Brandon stared at him like a rabbit trapped in the headlights. “Yeah.”

  Raven took Brandon’s face in his hands and pulled him closer.

  “I…” was all he could say as he looked into the face of his greatest desire.

  Flashes of Ossian assaulted Raven, but he fought them off. Ossian didn’t want him. Brandon wanted him. He was feeling ready again, ready to push Ossian out. Those men had wanted him too, but Brandon really wanted him in an even bigger way. He wanted to feel wanted, and Brandon could give him that, more than the sports man or anyone else in the club. The prospect of feeling better was potent again.

  “Don’t be scared,” Raven said gently.

  Brandon had lost the power of speech.

  Raven hesitated. Was this right? Was he merely using Brandon to get one up on his infatuation? Ossian’s image appeared again. No, he was giving Brandon what he wanted, and giving himself what he needed. Brandon was lonely and so was he. They both needed validation, they both needed to feel good about themselves. And so he pulled the trembling wallflower to him and tasted his lips. Brandon’s body went like putty and Raven had to grasp him tightly to prevent him from sliding off the sofa. The kiss broke. Brandon trembled in his arms.

  “Are you all right?” Raven asked.

  “I…”

  Raven kissed him deeply again. The kiss broke for the second time and he took Brandon’s hand. “Come to my place.”

  Brandon’s mouth formed a soft ‘oh’ of amazement. “Did…you just…” he trailed off, mesmerized by the depth of Raven’s eyes.

  “Yes.” Raven ran his thumb over Brandon’s bottom lip, feeling it tremble under his touch. “Only if you want to.” Brandon’s chest heaved in and out and for a moment Raven thought he would refuse. But then he stood up and held out his hand for Raven to take. Raven grasped Brandon’s hot fingers and stood, pulling him close so their bodies were touching. He slid a hand down and caressed Brandon’s erection. “For me?” He gently licked Brandon’s left ear lobe.

  “Uh…” Brandon gasped. “I’m in your arms.” he whispered.

  “All night.” Raven said. He kissed Brandon again. “Let’s get out of here. I really need to make love to you.”

  18.

  COLD SPELL

  Liza trudged up the three porch steps leading to her front door and carefully placed her bulging shopping bags on the ground breathing a sigh of relief. They were bloody heavy! She flexed her fingers to get her circulation going and rubbed her hands where the plastic had cut into her flesh, leaving angry red marks. A simple levitation spell would have helped a bunch and she would have loved to see old Mrs Hubble’s face when she saw three shopping bags float past her window. But it wasn’t worth the council’s wrath. There were rules surrounding the use of magic, rules, which had been drummed into her head from an early age. Well, the age of thirteen to be precise– when she had come into her powers.

  She had gone to her mother’s room expecting the ‘special talk’ to be about boys and sex, things she had already been educated about by the school’s reproduction classes. She had sat down on the edge of the bed ready to make the appropriately shocked faces to appease her mother, but had f
ound upon her mother’s revelation that her shock did not need to be feigned.

  “Liza, you’re a witch.” That had been the opening line and the more she listened, images of Sabrina the Teenage Witch tumbling through her head, the more her excitement had grown. She discovered that she was actually a witch from a long line of witches– a born witch. She learnt that there weren’t many families of pure blood witches left in the world and that she had the privilege of belonging to one of them. She learnt that there were other humans who called themselves witches and practiced Wicca, and some even managed the odd spell, but they didn’t possess the natural power, which coursed through her veins.

  She grinned as this memory brought with it the all too familiar warmth of safety and comfort– she loved who she was and life was good.

  Shaking off her thoughts, she glanced up at the sky– it looked like rain. She quickly delved into her handbag and began the usual fumbling for her keys, sighing in exasperation when they eluded her. The damn bag would give even Mary Poppins a run for her money.

  A whole minute later and she was finally clutching the keys to her kingdom. She frowned reproachfully at them. She could have sworn she had put them neatly in the side pocket sewn into the bag. But once again they had escaped into the main pouch. She was beginning to suspect they had been enchanted.

  “Felicity!” she cursed under her breath, shaking her head.

  Felicity was her younger cousin and her biggest rival when it came to magic. This was precisely the kind of thing she would do if only for the simple pleasure of bringing a little irritation into Liza’s life. She found her face breaking into a wicked grin. Oh, she was going to have so much fun thinking up a payback for this one. Inserting the key, she gave it the twist and shove it needed to force open the slightly stiff door and finally retreated into her own personal haven.

  Her haven, her home, was decorated with simple comfort in mind. Big squashy sofa’s in warm soft colours and deeply piled carpets and fluffy rugs. Yep, it was a place to truly kick back and relax in. No matter the weather, her home was always perfectly acclimatised to her needs. She made a beeline toward the functional yet cosy kitchen to put away her shopping, her mind still on the question of a suitable retaliation on her cousin Felicity. She could enchant Felicity’s knickers so they gave her perpetual wedgies or she could make her snore like a hog…no that was too obvious, the knickers were better.

  She was still trying to decide the best course of action a few minutes later as she poured herself a huge glass of wine. She padded past her study and contemplated popping in for about a second before dismissing the idea. She wasn’t in the mood to work tonight. She grinned to herself. That was another brill thing about being her– she could choose her own timetable. As a freelance writer, she had the luxury of picking and choosing her own assignments. She had made quite a name for herself, which meant that she was never short of work and the money was just right. It was better than working full time for Sparkle Corp, although working for her family’s business hadn’t been a bad deal. She could have made partner by now but it just hadn’t been for her.

  Sparkle Corp specialised in finding and retrieving magical artefacts and texts, which may have fallen into ignorant or dangerous hands, sometimes employing other supernatural beings to do the legwork on a contractual basis. It was pretty mundane most of the time and on the odd occasion, when there had been a hint of danger, her parents had specifically prohibited her from taking on the case. To the general population, Sparkle Corp made and sold ornaments and decorations for special occasions and this was the role Liza had been fronting…boring. When she had finally left four years ago at the age of twenty-four, Felicity had been only too eager to step into her shoes, arguing that as the daughter of a council member she had the genetic makeup required to succeed. Snooty bitch! Despite her cousin’s superior attitude, Liza had been more than happy to hand them over.

  “Watch out, honey. They may be a little big for you.” She had warned.

  “Well you always were a bit of a heffer,” Felicity had retorted cruelly– and it was highly untrue.

  Liza was pleasantly curvy, sexy, sensual…well that’s what Tom would say every time she decided to go on a diet. “I love your curves.” He would purr, nibbling on her earlobe. “You’re gorgeous just the way you are.”

  Meeting Tom had made her life complete and now they were engaged with the wedding fixed for next year. Life was exceptionally great.

  She curled up on the sofa and flicked on the television. She glanced at the clock– just gone five. There was plenty of time to mong in front of the telly before dinner.

  She woke with a start, her heart hammering painfully in her chest, her pulse going wild. Someone’s in the house! And then, no there can’t be. Tom’s away and the house is warded, no one can get in remember?

  She sagged back against the sofa in relief. Thank the Lord for modern technology and good old-fashioned magic. With the burglar alarm and magical wards working in tandem, her fortress was impenetrable.

  Her pulse had settled back to resting pace but the feeling of disquiet was still present. Something wasn’t right.

  Above the silence in the house she heard the distinct wail of the wind and the pitter-patter of the rain as it hammered against the windows. It sounded like a storm was coming, storms always gave her nightmares. It was no wonder she was feeling spooked.

  Reaching out for the remote, she flicked on the television, which had switched itself to standby while she slept. A little telly to drown out the storm would probably help diminish her unease. The ten o’clock news had just started and the comforting serious tones of the news readers did a little to push away the foreboding. Damn Tom and his business meetings! The house never felt this way when he was home.

  Tom worked for an up and coming marketing company and as a result was constantly working his bum off to cinch deals and bring in more clients. The next two weeks he would be working in Paris, then on to Madrid where he would be meeting with and presenting to two possible major clients. She knew he loved his job, she also knew he hated to leave her so she never made a fuss about his work. She loved him enough to want him to be happy.

  Shrugging off the mantle of apprehension, she slipped off the sofa, heading for the kitchen. Her unanticipated nap meant that she had missed dinner and her stomach, wanting to emphasize its emptiness, let out an acidy growl.

  Pulling the fridge open she glared at its contents. Urgh, she hated cooking for one, a feeling that she had only developed over the last year– since Tom had moved in. Before Tom, or B.T as she liked to think of it, she had been perfectly at ease with her own company, had even cooked elaborate meals for herself. It was amazing how a relationship could change a person, how we could go from becoming an individual entity to a dual one.

  Instant noodles, she decided. They were nice and easy to make but tasty too.

  Slamming the fridge closed decisively, she turned to the dried goods cupboard and stopped as she caught movement from the corner of her eye.

  The kitchen door was double-glazed glass, top and bottom, and as she peered closer, trying to ignore the reflected kitchen lights on the glass, she made out a tiny grey form curled up on the decking outside. She knelt down, tapping gently on the glass to get its attention. It jerked, its body snapping to attention, tail coming up in a fight or flight gesture, its wide slanted silver eyes focusing on hers warily.

  “It’s okay,” she said. The poor kitten was drenched. It had obviously come right up to the side of the house to shelter from the wind and rain. It looked up at her forlornly, now recognising a possible ally. She smiled and reaching for the door she quickly unlocked it. She stooped low intent on scooping up the kitten. But the tiny thing let out a tinny screech and dashed away into the garden.

  “Crap!” She hovered, considering her options. It had probably dashed under the hedge, in which case it should be sheltered enough. But it’s so tiny? A little voice whispered in her mind, it could die of hyperthermia in thi
s storm. “Crap!” she cursed again. She really didn’t relish stepping outside but, if she was quick, then a mad dash and a scoop was all she’s need to do.

  “Hang on! I’m coming!” Her words were instantly whipped away by the wind.

  Quickly, she slipped on her boots which she kept by the back door. And then, before she could have time to think further, she hurtled into the rain. Stepping off the decking and onto the grass, she froze as a feeling of menace hit her full force in the gut, the emotional impact so great it felt almost physical. She doubled over, her arm around her waist. Something was terribly wrong, something was…here.

  The wards would protect her...

  She glanced over her shoulder and her blood ran cold as she realised that she had surpassed the wards– they only extended as far as the decking. Forcing her body to move she turned back toward the house, the kitten all but forgotten. Her only concern was to be back in the safety of her home. One step, two steps, the wind pushed into her as if it had an intent all of its own.

  She felt it before she saw it, an inky black nothingness swallowing her peripheral vision as it closed in on her from behind and surrounded her. And then there was no wind and no rain. There was nothing

  19.

  THE MORNING AFTER

  Rose had set her alarm for 6am, ridiculously early for a Sunday, yes, but she was determined to squeeze the most out of her last day as a regular human. The first thing on the agenda was a long bubble bath and she knew if she didn’t get in there first it’d be midday before she left the house. Her itinerary was choc a bloc. Museums and shopping during the day, a cinema trip in the evening with Thistle to watch the latest blockbuster, followed by a meal at a restaurant Faye had recommended for its delicious Italian cuisine. Yep, today was going to be her day.