A Night at
Tears of Crimson
Michelle Hughes
A Night at
Tears of Crimson
Michelle Hughes
© United States 2010
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying or recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
©2010 by Michelle Hughes, Inc.
Second Edition 2012
Printed in the United States of America
ISBN 13: 978-1461012290
ISBN 10: 1461012295
Donovan, Cara Faith, 1969-
A Night at Tears of Crimson: a novel by Michelle Hughes
Summary:
Cara Donovan found the Tears of Crimson club by chance but it seems her entire destiny would be found in one night there. Rafe has spent hundreds of years taking what he wanted and devouring everything in his path. The demon in him longed to devour her, what was left of his humanity demanded that he protect her. He was a forbidden desire that awoke her passion. She was an innocent temptation that he couldn’t resist.
A Night at Tears of Crimson
Michelle Hughes
A Writer’s Pad Approved Novel
in association with
http://www.thebooksdebut.com/
DEDICATION
This book is dedicated in memory of Mary Louise Hall. There is not a day that passes when I don’t remember the love that you showered on my life. May the angels count their blessings each time they look upon your beautiful face. And a special dedication to the victims and survivors of the Alabama tornadoes that swept through our beautiful state in April 2011.
Path of Tears
1 Tears of Sorrow
2 Tears of Awakening
3 Tears of Crimson
4 Tears of Longing
5 Tears of Change
6 Tears of Passion
7 Tears of Remembrance
8 Tears of Betrayal
9 Tears of Acceptance
10 Tears of Agony
11 Tears of Submission
12 Gabriel’s Tears
13 Tears of Penalty
14 Tears of Change
15 Tears of Battle
16 Tears of Rebirth
17 Tears of Solace
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I cannot even begin to say how much I appreciate all the help and support that has been forthcoming since I started this venture into writing. There are hundreds of people that I wish to thank, but since there is only room for a few, I hope everyone knows just how much I appreciate them. Tracy Moore and Angela Mendoca for their tireless efforts of reading and rereading the many different ideas and helping me sort through them. The entire city of New Orleans, with a special thanks to Camille and Marita at the Boutique Du Vampyre for inspiration, Candace LeRae for being so incredibly agreeable to allowing me to paste her image all over the social media outlets I use. Many thanks to Sarah Snyder for her help with bringing the characters to life in role-play. My wonderful family for being so patient as I took the time to make a dream come true. My heart-felt thanks to J Bryden Lloyd for the re-edit, without his help this book would never have been all I hoped it could be.
1 Tears of Sorrow
The smell of stale beer permeated the sidewalk as she made her way down Toulouse Street. Even after six months the scent still bothered her somewhat, but as she walked further, she knew the smell of fresh beignets and lucky dogs would soon fill the humid Louisiana air. As the afternoon wore on, the streets came to life with a myriad of entertainers and artists who always drew out the crowds. Adjusting the strap on her worn guitar, she continued to walk until arriving at Jackson Square. Several of the talented artists were already setting up their goods and she glanced over the bright colorful paintings, her lips turning up into a smile. The garden was in full bloom and competed against the brilliant colors of the artwork that seemed to reach as long as the iron wrought gate. So much talent filled this small little area and it felt like she was just another small town girl trying to find a dream among them.
She moved to New Orleans with such high expectations. Singing in the church choir had given her a love for music even if she no longer felt the same way about religion. She never realized until moving here how many people had that same dream, but somehow it just felt this was the place she was supposed to be. In her small town in Alabama, many people had told her she needed to be singing professionally. It was that encouragement that gave her the push she needed to pursue her dreams. This place was definitely a world away from her small backwater town.
Her little hometown had a population of only a little over 500 people. Most of her life she'd lived in a sheltered little box that rarely touched the outside world. Where she was from, it was so safe you could leave your windows wide open and doors unlocked without ever worrying about someone breaking in. Life was great and simple and she still missed some things about it, others not so much. Her life hadn’t been an easy one growing up but after being exposed to the outside world here, she could easily see how it could have been worse.
Allowing her memories to take her back in time she thought about her mother, and the hard life she had led. Her mom went through men like she went through flavors of ice cream, and in Cara's opinion, she really enjoyed that dairy delight. Her mom just couldn't seem to find a decent one she liked that treated her well, so that left her spending most of her time with her Granny Louise. If it hadn't been for her Granny, she would have felt orphaned, because her mom rarely had time to spend taking care of the burden she considered her to be. For reasons she still didn't understand, she and her mother were like oil and water. Maybe it was because her mom had only been fifteen when she had her, Cara thought. Between her age and being single, she could only guess that she held some deep resentment against her for being born. Shaking away the negative thought she knew it was a subject she'd probably never understand.
At least she had her granny, she thought back in fondness. Granny Louise was her angel, always stepping in between her mom’s tirades when she would kick her out because she wasn't living up to her standards. Her standards! What standards? She was a straight “A” student, had never been in trouble, and had NEVER even been on a date, much less kissed a boy! It still made her blood boil to think of how little her mom thought about her. She knew that her mother was convinced she was just one breath away from being a complete juvenile delinquent. When she married her last flavor of the month, she convinced her that they would have a better chance at their marriage if she allowed her to move in with her grandmother. Her mother had been so agreeable with the idea, that she even helped her pack up to leave.
That was the summer of her senior year in high school and probably the first time in seventeen years that she felt able to breathe. Cara was still amazed at how she lived all those years being told how completely worthless she was and just moving out of the environment she was in made her feel worthy of love again. Her mom was busy with her new husband and the new antique shop she’d just acquired and Cara pretty much ceased to exist in her life. Strangely enough it probably saved what little self-respect Cara had left for herself.
She finished out her last year of school and worked part time in a littl
e mom and pop restaurant. Things were pretty normal for her during the next fear years. She graduated high school with honors and moved on to work full time with the same little diner. Both she and granny would go to church services every Wednesday and Sunday, then attend whatever little social the church was putting on. Granny became her closest friend and she still thought that she could have lived out the rest of her life there in that little town had things not changed so drastically.
Cara still remembered that one horrible day like it like yesterday. Walking in the house and seeing that proud beautiful woman sitting at the kitchen table weeping taught her more about life than she ever wanted to know. Granny had been feeling rundown for a few weeks and she had gone to her physician to have some tests run. They determined that she had lung cancer. She had never smoked a day in her life, and Cara could vividly remember being outraged at God for cursing her in such a way when she had always been so faithful. That was the day she completely lost her faith, even though she took her granny to church services on the days she was well enough to attend. Cara knew it would have broken her granny's heart to see her illness destroy her faith in the most Holy.
Her mother who had pretty much been absent unless she needed something appeared at the funeral acting as if she had lost her best friend. Granny had never really thought about the future and the power of attorney still belonged to Cara's mother. Had her mom been a better person she would have signed over what was left to her and maybe she would have continued to live in Alabama. As it was, she sold the house and left Cara with a few thousand dollars and the invitation to move in with her and her husband. That was when she made the decision to leave that place, since there were nothing left but memories. With granny's death and losing all she had once considered home, for Cara it just felt it was time to move on with her life. New Orleans had been one of the places her Granny and she had come to do mission work with the church years ago, and it was one of the few places she could remember travelling to.
She hated allowing herself to drown in the negativity of the past and knew that sooner or later she'd have to let the past go. Her mom hadn't called once since she moved here and it was apparent she just didn't care what was going on in her life. To be fair, Cara hadn't bothered calling her either, she thought it was childish, but she wanted her mom to make the first move and until she did, well that was just that.
Picking up her guitar she strummed a few notes and tuned it as best as she could. She really hoped that the tourists were in giving moods today because her bank account was sorely in need of funds. She started singing one of the songs her Granny loved to hear, allowing the music to take her out of the depressing walk down memory lane that would overtake her if she allowed it the opportunity. For the next few hours she sang from the heart and felt grateful for the few people that bothered to leave a tip.
This had pretty much been her routine since she arrived six months ago, and as much as she hated to admit it, she was just not making enough money to continue living this way. The few thousand dollars left to her, she'd stretched about as far as it could go. As the day turned to dusk and she counted up her tips and couldn’t deny the fact any longer that she had to find a real job.
Pocketing the small amount of cash she made, she walked back toward the nightclubs on the strip. She really hoped that someone was looking for at least a guitar player full time. Jobs as a musician were hard enough to come by here, trying to find a position as a vocalist was virtually impossible. She remembered seeing a flyer in the Boutique Du Vampyre, her favorite little shop in the Quarter, yesterday about a new club that was opening. It seemed like a good place to start her job hunt so she made her way toward Bourbon Street.
The streets were already full of people partying out in the middle of the road and she got several come-hither looks, which she ignored completely. The last thing she needed in her life right now was a tourist looking for a little fun while on vacation, she thought to herself. As she stood outside the new club, she bit her lip indecisively wondering if she had the nerve to walk inside.
The windows on this club had been painted black and the words, "Tears of Crimson" were painted in huge, blood-red, calligraphy letters. The building seemed to take up a quarter of the block and it was two stories high. This place had always given her the "weeping willies" and she felt a slight chill staring at the old, worn-brick siding. There was no one outside inviting you in which was rather odd. In the Quarter, there were normally folks trying to pull in patrons off the street. The people she saw walking in the building were all dressed in black, and most of them had their faces painted up like the walking dead, no pun intended. Taking a deep breath, she made the decision that she needed a job and if they had one available here, then she was just going to stop being such a prude and beg for it.
She walked through the door and was stopped by a man that looked like he would have no issues whatsoever stopping a massive riot, if it took place. She found his style of dress somewhat strange for the Quarter. Honestly, she had never seen a bouncer dressed in a suit and tie. Of course, she hadn't actually been inside many bars, if she was being honest with herself. To add to the oddness factor, she thought, was the fact that everything about this place screamed out Goth club. She couldn't help but wonder why he wasn't dressed like the people walking inside. It wasn’t that the man was ugly, far from it, she conceded, just something didn’t seem to add up.
He looked her over and a small smirk appeared on his face. Granted, she was wearing a white sun dress and probably looked like some country girl off the farm compared to the way these people were dressed, but his smirk was irritating. Forcing herself to smile brightly, she took out her wallet and handed him her driver’s license. He glanced over the card and then turned his deep brown gaze on her. There was something about his eyes that bothered her on some level, but she honestly just couldn't put her finger on exactly what it was.
Handing back her card he nodded before lifting her hand and putting a black stamp with a strange symbol on it. The smirk was still on his face and she wanted to walk back out the same way she came in. It felt like there was some private joke going on in his mind that she wasn't getting. Cara reminded herself why she was here, and forced herself to question him. "Do you know if the management is hiring entertainment," she was actually pretty proud of herself because her voice didn't shake.
Again the giant man gave her the once over, like he was sizing her up, and she felt somewhat offended. "I'm assuming you speak English?" she questioned him in a haughty voice and he threw back his head and chuckled making him seem a little less formidable.
"It is one of many languages I speak," he smiled showing perfectly straight teeth and even had the audacity to wink at her. Shaking her head, she wondered if maybe he had a few screws loose and then felt guilty for thinking the thought. As he let out another chuckle she decided to walk away. He chose that moment to answer her question.
"The boss may be looking for entertainers," the way he said it made her think he wasn't really willing to tell her what the owner was looking for. "Talk to the bartender he usually knows what the boss man requires," she smiled at him somewhat, and walked off toward the bar again thinking what a strange man he was. Shaking her head she made it to the bar and sat in one of the many empty barstools. The bartender was helping a customer and she took the time to glance around the place while waiting on him to get to her.
She thought to herself how right she was about how huge the place was from the outside, this club could easily hold 500 people. She took it all in somewhat surprised by the strange theme. There was a huge dance floor, and a DJ stand completed with a large stage boasting red velvet curtains. It seemed to her that whoever had decorated the bar, missed the theatre and tried to bring in a touch of that, mixed in with the gaudiness of the club. Booths and tables were scattered around the stage in disorganized disarray. To her it was a very strange mix of decorating tastes.
It was all a little tacky in her viewpoint, but she wasn't about to
say that out loud. If there was one thing that she'd discovered by living in a small town, it was when to keep your mouth shut. The walls of the place were painted jet black with large blood splatters thrown carelessly around in different spots, she could only guess for effect. The dance floor had blood dripping roses painted in intricate details, and then offset it with flashing disco lights. She bit her lip to stop the small laugh that threatened to escape as she wondered if the owners were taking drugs when they came up with this idea. Chiding herself for being judgmental, she instantly felt guilty for her thoughts.
As the bartender made his way over, she remembered that she was here for a job and not to judge on how the place was arranged. That man was really handsome, she thought, and blushed slightly at thinking that way. He had dark blonde hair that fell past his shoulders and arms that would put a body builder to shame. What really caught her eyes was his beautiful smile that just seemed to say, hey I'm a friendly guy and it's nice to have you here. She returned his smile, and felt an odd instant connection.
"What can I get for you darlin'?" with a wink he threw his bar towel over his shoulder and seemed to have eyes for no one else. Trying her best not to blush even more she found her voice. "A job would be really nice," she replied, hoping her smile didn't falter. As much as she enjoyed performing, she really felt uncomfortable around people.
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