by Trisha Baker
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KRIMSON KISS
By
Trisha Baker
* * *
Contents
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
EPILOGUE
* * *
My name is Meghann O'Neill. I am a psychologist who specializes in treating victims of abusive relationships—particularly women and children. I am also a vampire, and for years I suffered the cruelty of the man who seduced and turned me into this immortal creature.His name was Simon Baldevar. Handsome and sophisticated, he claimed to love me, possessing me body and soul. In his arms I became enslaved in an endless cycle of pleasure and pain, receiving passionate ecstasy and vile punishment in equal measure, depending on his mood. Over thirty years ago I left him staked on a roof and let the dawn of a new day finish him off.
But Simon survived, and he's already begun his sadistic games by murdering the very humans I have sworn to help through my practice. If he expects me to bend under his will and beg forgiveness, he's sadly mistaken—and he'll be shocked to learn that his servant has become a master all her own…
* * *
THE KISS OF IMMORTALITY
Maggie could feel how weak she was; she knew she was dying. "I don't want to die."
"Look at me," Simon commanded. "What is your decision?"
I want to be with him, Maggie thought suddenly. Nothing eke matters. She managed to lift up her hand, and caress his face softly.
Simon put his arms around her, then kissed her fiercely. The sickness faded beneath the passion Maggie felt. I never wanted anything as much as I want him, she thought hazily.
"You're beautiful," he whispered. He ran his hands lightly across her body, fingertips barely touching her. Maggie moaned, aching with desire.
"Tell me who I am," he ordered while thrusting into her.
"My master."
"And you'll be mine forever?"
"Forever."
Simon sank his teeth deep within the wounds on her neck again. Maggie moaned, digging her nails into his back. The rapture she now felt made her prior ecstasy pale in comparison. She felt wave after wave of intense, unbearable pleasure as he drained the blood from her. Maggie felt him growing harder within her as he drank her blood. It seemed to go on forever, making love while he drank her blood. She didn't want it to ever stop…
* * *
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* * *
CRIMSON
KISS
TRISHA BAKER
PINNACLE BOOKS
Kensington Publishing Corp.
http://www.pinnaclebooks.com
* * *
PINNACLE BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
850 Third Avenue
New York, NY 10022
Copyright © 2001 by Trisha Baker
Printed in the United States of America
* * *
PROLOGUE
^ »
March 17, 1998
Unobserved, Meghann O'Neill entered the dark hospital room after the relatives holding vigil over the dying old woman departed. She felt her throat close with pity when she stared at her oldest friend, who was moaning and writhing in agony on the narrow hospital bed. Bridie Fraser was beyond the reach of the drugs her doctors had prescribed; they could do nothing to ease her pain.
But I can help, Meghann thought, and reached out to take Bridie's skeletal, clammy hand. Meghann closed her eyes and focused all her energy on the old woman's mind, as her mentor had taught her to do. "Be still, Bridie. The pain is gone."
Meghann felt the tension in the hand she grasped ease as a numb lassitude not unlike the effect of Novocain banished her friend's pain. Bridie leaned back against her pillows, whispering, "Who… Who are you?"
Meghann waved her free hand and the harsh fluorescent overhead lights came on, illuminating the small room.
Bridie Fraser gasped; her watery blue eyes were wide with shock. "Maggie!"
Meghann smiled down at her best friend. "Hello, Bridie."
"B-but…" the old woman stuttered. "It's not… you can't… Maggie, you haven't changed at all! Are you a dream?"
"I'm real," Meghann assured her. There was a reason she hadn't aged in the fifty-four years since she'd last seen Bridie, but she couldn't share the truth with her old friend.
Bridie Fraser smiled, and Meghann saw her pretty young friend for a moment in the eyes of the old woman. "Maggie… Maggie, you've finally come back. You… You're an angel now, come to take me home."
Meghann gave her a crooked smile. "Not exactly an angel, Bridie. But if you are ready to die, I can help you."
"Oh, Maggie," Bridie whispered. "I missed you so much. Why did you disappear like that? Was it that man? Did you really run away to marry him?"
Meghann's hand tightened over Bridie's until the old woman cried out in pain.
"Oh, Bridie—I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you… now or then. Will you forgive me?"
"Just tell me you were happy, Maggie."
Meghann blinked rapidly, holding back tears. "Of course I was happy. Were you?"
"I had forty years with my Henry. And—oh, Maggie! I wish you could see Paul—he's such a handsome, smart boy. What about you, Maggie? Did you have children?"
Meghann couldn't take much more of this; hearing about the sweet, happy life Bridie had led made her realize how cursed her own had been since the night Simon Baldevar walked into it. "Bridie, if you want the pain to stop forever, I can help. But this must be your decision."
"There's no decision—what I've been doing since I got this cancer isn't living. Help me, Maggie. Take me home."
Meghann grasped her friend's hand. "Listen to my voice." She began talking to Bridie about their childhood memories: the old days of cheating on a math test in Sister Mary Margaret's sixth-grade class, their first school dance, drinking ice-cream sodas and reading movie magazines, waiting on line at Radio City Music Hall to see Gone With the Wind.
While she talked, Meghann wrapped her power around Bridie's heart, the stubborn heart that was still beating in the cancer-racked body. The strain of keeping her voice upbeat while she concentrated her entire will on holding Bridie's heart still made her tremble; small beads of
perspiration formed on the ivory skin of her forehead, but she did it—she used her skill to help her friend.
Meghann leaned over and closed the sightless, staring eyes. Even after fifty years, she was uneasy around death, particularly when she caused it. "Good-bye, Bridie."
Good-bye as well to the last person who remembered Maggie O'Neill—the bright-eyed, happy undergraduate she'd been before she met Simon Baldevar.
Was it thoughts of her dead master that made Meghann feel weak and sick or had she expended too much energy helping her old friend? She collapsed into a chair by the bed, trembling and nauseous. She didn't need a mirror to tell her how awful she must look—she had to have blood right away.
"Thank you."
Meghann looked up at the white-haired old man who had entered the room. She really was sick if her senses hadn't warned her of the mortal entering the room. How much had he seen?
"I don't know who you are, but thank you for helping my wife."
Before Meghann could shake the gnarled hand in front of her, a team of doctors and nurses stormed into the room, responding to the flat, loud beep on Bridie's heart monitor.
"Flatliner!" one of them barked. "Code Blue!"
"No," Henry protested. "Don't you bring Bridie back—she's at peace now."
An arrogant doctor took control. "This man is hysterical. Get him out of here."
Meghann forced herself out of the chair and walked over to the doctor. She put a restraining hand on him. "Doctor, I believe you should defer to the wishes of the family in this matter." The doctor found himself unable to protest when he looked into the young woman's eyes. Without another word, he left the room, the others trailing in his wake.
Meghann was shaking now. Commanding the doctor had depleted her strength. She had to get blood. She found herself walking toward Henry Fraser.
No! She ran out of the room, ignoring Henry, who was yelling, "Wait! Come back…"
Meghann rushed through the hospital corridors. She should have known helping Bridie would leave her weak.
As she hurried through the emergency room, she crashed into a tall, muscular man. He snarled, "Bitch! The word is excuse me!"
Meghann whirled around. "Watch who you call a bitch."
The man took a step back in shock. He simply could not believe what stood in front of him—a young woman with bright red hair that made her pale, colorless skin look even worse. He thought a ghost was glaring at him. The worst part was her light green eyes; they blazed with power and hatred. They made him want to run, but he found he couldn't move.
Meghann felt his fear, and relished it. She felt the darkness rising within her, and didn't even try to stop it. She simply grabbed the man's arm and propelled him toward a nearby empty staircase.
"Please, miss," he whimpered, "don't hurt me. I'm sorry…"
Meghann's grin made his heart stop cold. "It's too late for sorry, friend. Now kneel before me." This was a minor trick she'd learned from Simon—seeing someone's pain and humiliation made their blood taste better.
Meghann leaned down and sank her blood teeth into the man's jugular vein. He screamed, but Meghann barely heard him. How good the blood was, strong and hot. It filled her mouth and she wanted to drink down every precious drop. Each mouthful pushed her anxiety and hurt further away. Her skin regained color; the shaky, queasy feeling vanished. Still, Meghann went on sucking the man's blood, enjoying the feeling of total control she had over him. She wanted to drink forever…
It wasn't until the man passed out that Meghann returned to her senses; she looked down at the unconscious man. What the hell had she done? She heard Alcuin lecturing her: "You never have to kill or frighten your hosts. A small amount will sustain you…"
She cursed and put her fist through the wall. Didn't it ever get better? Fifty years she'd been a vampire, and she still couldn't control the depraved impulses inside her.
Meghann was appalled. It had been years since she'd given in to blood lust like this. And now she was aware of a slight giddiness she felt. She looked at the man's arm; it was covered in track marks. A heroin addict—no wonder the blood tasted so good. Well, at least the punctures could be explained away. He'd assume he tried to fix through the vein in his neck.
Meghann put her hand to the pulse in the man's neck. It was there… somewhat weak but steady. At least she hadn't killed him. Meghann focused on his blood flow… No, she hadn't infected him either. Meghann decided she would leave him here; he would assume that he had nodded off and forgotten or been attacked. But first she focused her will on his mind, commanding him to forget meeting her and being bitten.
Meghann looked down at herself. The white blouse she was wearing with the black suit was soaked in blood. She took it off and used it to wipe excess blood from her mouth and chin. She put the blazer of her black suit back on; it barely covered her breasts. Her blood teeth had retracted; she could be seen in the mortal world again.
Meghann reached into her purse and withdrew several hundred dollars from her wallet. She placed it in the pocket of the unconscious man's jeans. Leaning over him, she whispered, "I'm sorry."
A pathetic offering, but the only one Meghann could make. She was truly disgusted with herself. All those years of good behavior down the drain with one feeding. If she was going to behave that way, she might as well have remained Simon's consort.
Meghann left the staircase and headed for her car, a 1958 Cadillac convertible. She got behind the wheel and lit a Camel cigarette. She started the car, and laughed grimly at the thought that these cigarettes had just killed her good friend Bridie.
That's one thing, whatever happens I'm not going to die of lung cancer, she thought.
Since returning to New York, Meghann had bought a large Victorian house in Rockaway Beach. She loved the ocean, and had good memories of the place. Of course there were horrible memories too, courtesy of Simon Baldevar.
When Meghann crossed the Veterans Memorial Bridge, she felt a change in the air. A nonmortal presence near…
Alcuin! Meghann smiled at the thought that her mentor was here. Of course it was a surprise, but she wanted to see him. She reached out with her senses to pinpoint his location, and found herself driving the car to a secluded area of beach near Breezy Point.
On the boardwalk, Meghann saw a hooded figure by the shore. She hurried toward him. "Alcuin!"
"Meghann!" he said as he picked her up and whirled her around. Then he sobered. "Tell me what happened tonight."
Without a word, Meghann reached into her bag and handed him the blood-soaked blouse.
Alcuin put it to his face and sniffed. "Why?" he asked simply.
Meghann looked out at the black sea, wishing that just once she could see the sun dance on the water again. "I went to visit Bridie… and I just left there feeling so angry and cheated. Damn it! Why the hell has this happened to me? It should have been me there, ready to die after a long, good life. I don't mean I want to die in that kind of pain—but I'm not supposed to appear at a friend's bedside as the goddamn angel of death. Why the hell do I have to live like this ? And then that stupid man got in my way…"
"Banrion. "Alcuin soothed her with his special name for her, the Gaelic word for queen. "I wish I had known you were planning to visit a mortal friend; I could have warned you."
"Warned me about what?"
"Exactly what happened tonight. Meghann, you aren't the first vampire to visit someone from your mortal lifetime. It's always a shock and a bitter moment when you realize what could have been. Charles had the same reaction."
"You mean Charles…"
"Yes, he went to visit a young man with whom he'd fought in the war. When he saw him being tended to by his wife, Charles was wild with fury and grief. Do you remember what I told you? Those two emotions make you most vulnerable to the darkness. Put it behind you, banrion. You didn't kill the man, and you did your best to make amends. Now for your penance, don't feed for one fortnight. Spend the time keeping the Perpetual Adoration and medita
ting upon your sins."
Meghann felt absolved—after all, Alcuin had been a bishop before he'd been transformed.
Alcuin smiled when he saw the relief on Meghann's face. "Now, banrion, let's talk of more pleasant matters. You received your doctorate?"
Meghann smiled back, linking her arm through Alcuin's as they walked back toward her car. "Oh, yes—and I see patients now… mostly abused partners referred to me by the university counseling center." Meghann was a psychologist.
"How wonderful—and what a gorgeous car." Alcuin admired the black paint, and patted the rocket fins that had been embossed with flames. "I believe car making became an art form in the fifties and sixties."
Meghann put the top down—the cold wouldn't bother her and Alcuin the way it would mortals. "I don't think you came to America to congratulate me on my degree or my car."
Alcuin nodded. "Would you mind if I drove, Meghann? I have some very unpleasant news."
"I didn't know you knew how to drive."
"It would be a bit ridiculous to live seven hundred years and refuse to keep up with modern innovations."
Meghann handed him the keys, and got in on the passenger side. "What happened? Is it Charles?" Charles Tarleton was one of Alcuin's other apprentices, and the vampire who'd introduced Meghann to Alcuin's circle.
"Charles is fine," Alcuin told her as he started driving. "But, Meghann… I don't know how to tell you this without upsetting you. Just listen calmly and remember… You've become a very strong vampire in the past thirty years and you'll never be without my protection."
Meghann's heart started beating rapidly. "Why would I need your protection?" she demanded.
Alcuin busied himself with watching the traffic, avoiding Meghann's eyes. "I have evidence that Simon Baldevar is alive."
