Crimson, Volume 1

by Sax Alexander

  Kylie took in the sights of the club, a frown tugging at the corners of her mouth. She gave the place one more look around—it did look like a bar scene, with most of the patrons dressed in black leather or suggestive costumes of rich reds, metal rings and studs glinting from lots of collars and wristlets. Judging from the predatory looks of the men at the bar and the coquettish teasing flutter of many of the women, it also looked like a meat market.

  She recognized the creeping sense of exposure along the back of her neck, feeling highly uncomfortable amid so many milling bodies. She was sharply aware of their nearness and the curious looks she herself was getting, fresh blood in a bar with no companion by her side. She was just about to slip out the way she’d come before anyone could try to engage her, when another thing caught her eye.

  One of the girls at the bar stood flirting with a taller man seated on a stool beside her. The girl had a drink in one hand, but the other hand lay gently in the clasp of both the man’s. He held her hand palm-up, one thumb caressing the length of her fingers with distracted affection, while with his other he stroked the flesh of her naked wrist.

  There were two pale pink puncture wounds there, just like Reggie’s.

  Neither of the two seemed all that aware of the scars as they talked. The man stroked them very casually, looking all the while into his partner’s eyes. Kylie couldn’t seem to pull her attention away from the scars, though. When she finally did, she immediately started scanning others in the room, intrigued and a little bit awed.

  She saw two more girls with the marks on their wrists chatting together over their drinks at one of the corner booths. A young man on the dance floor with another man who seemed to be his boyfriend had a similar scar on his neck, visible as he bobbed his head in time to the music. Finally, she saw that the singer himself had them—several of them—on the insides of his elbows, along the strong, corded muscle of his neck, and even on the left side of his chest just above the neck of his black T-shirt.

  Scene stuff, her mind told her. Blood play. There are others here into pierce play, too.

  Yes, that was true. She picked out one girl right off the bat with stripes of violet ribbon running through a set of corset piercings between her shoulders. Still, there was a strange fascination to those “bite” marks.

  Her intrigue warred with the abrasive petulance of her unease, and finally she pressed herself toward one of the spiraling wrought-iron staircases leading to the catwalks above. There at least she could be away from the biggest part of the throng, and muse a bit more over the implication of those scars.

  It was quieter up above, and marginally more private. Since the people there were more interested in their own business than anything else, Kylie felt blessedly less exposed. She meandered across the network of catwalks at her leisure, watching the activity below with her usual alien detachment and searching out glimpses of more of those same scars in each cluster of patrons.

  She’d been looking on for almost an hour, silent and lost in her own mind, when a soft, feminine voice behind her murmured, “Are you looking for someone, sweetness?”

  Kylie turned toward the voice and found herself facing a very pretty young woman seated on one of the black leather sofas. The woman leaned forward with elbows on knees, chin in hands, looking intently back at her with bright, green eyes.

  Very bright, green eyes. Bright like the colored spots circling the dance floor below. Kylie blinked at the sight of them, a little thrown off.

  “You’ve circled past me three times now, looking over that railing like you dropped something,” the young woman said. “Are you looking for someone?”

  Three times? Kylie was positive she’d passed this spot, all right, but equally positive she hadn’t seen anyone sitting there even once.

  “No,” she said. “Not looking for anyone.”

  The woman’s brilliant eyes sparkled, and a sly smile spread across her face.

  “Something, then?”

  A small shiver went through Kylie’s shoulders, and without realizing it, she tightened her grip on the railing behind her. The woman’s teeth were perfectly straight and dazzlingly white—and her canines were longer than they should have been, curved and pointed, like an animal’s fangs.

  The two women stayed like that, staring at each other for long seconds. Kylie was aware that maybe she ought to be afraid. More pressing than that thought, though, was a vague, morbid fascination, a very real sense of possibility.

  “I’m Tessa,” the other woman said, extending a graceful hand. She had dark, ebony skin, flawlessly smooth, and her straight black hair was bound up in a flirty, sassy little flip that showed off her slender, elegant throat and the flashy gold earrings hanging nearly to her shoulder line. Her makeup was dark and smoky: tones of gold and black, very Egyptian, across her eyelids and dark red shimmering on her lips. In a strapless burnt-gold cocktail dress and perilously high stilettos, she looked positively striking, even for this place.

  “And you are?”

  Kylie was at a loss for words. She took the offered hand automatically—a gesture she had never been very good at accepting or returning before—but instead of saying her name, the first response that came to mind was, “I don’t believe in vampires.”

  Tessa arched one fine eyebrow. “Oh? Is there a reason you think you should?”

  Kylie had no answer for that.

  Tessa gave Kylie a long once-over, taking in the sight of her own hastily put-together outfit. Kylie hadn’t planned on clubbing that night, obviously, but her silvery-gray T-shirt and blue jeans seemed to be met with approval, perhaps thanks to the black leather jacket she’d worn over them against the rain. She’d left her hair mostly unstyled, simply pulled back into a long chestnut ponytail, from which only a few stray strands had rebelliously escaped. She never wore makeup.

  “You don’t look like you’ve had any bite marks put on you,” Tessa murmured, her gaze lingering for a moment on Kylie’s own. “Yet, I still didn’t catch your name.”

  “Kylie,” she muttered almost begrudgingly.

  “So, Miss Kylie,” Tessa said, settling back onto her couch. “What are you looking for?”

  There was another question for which she had no answer. Feeling suddenly very cornered, Kylie shrugged, shoving her hands into her pockets and glancing askance. She could still feel those lamp-lit eyes scrutinizing her, could feel the hint of a devilish smirk aimed in her direction.

  “Would you like to come sit by me, sweetness?” Tessa asked, gently patting one hand on the leather beside her.

  Kylie hesitated, then took the offered seat.

  Tessa was a rather lovely woman, with long legs and a sweetheart figure. Her dark lips were pouty and full, and those glowing eyes were framed by a fringe of long, thick lashes. As Kylie plunked down awkwardly beside her, the other woman wore a careful, assessing expression, eyes half lidded in perfect evocation of what Kylie’s mother might scandalously refer to as “bedroom eyes”.

  Again there was silence between them, and Kylie realized the other woman was waiting, quite patiently, for her to speak first.

  “If you’re supposed to be a vampire,” she finally blurted out, “are you, um, a good or bad one?”

  Tessa wrinkled her nose. “What sort of stupid question is that?”

  “You know. Do you... uh, kill humans to drink their blood? Or do you kill other things, or steal from a blood bank because you like humans?”

  Tessa gave her an oblique, unamused expression.

  “You read too many young adult novels,” she said dryly. “That’s like asking a cat if he’ll eat nuts and berries to spare the rodent population. We feed on humans. Most times they die, as prey animals often do. We call it ‘the food chain’.”

  Kylie frowned. “And it doesn’t matter to you that you... kill them?”

  There was a glimmer of wry displeasure in the other woman’s eyes. “Are you a vegan, darling?”

  “God, no,” Kylie said.

  “The
n until you start being bothered by all the animals slaughtered to make hamburgers and bacon, I think it is rather obtuse of you to ask. Pot and kettle, if you will. Would you like something to drink?”

  A waitress had come up the stairs to make rounds, and Tessa raised a hand to flag her down. When she turned expectantly toward Kylie for an order, Kylie shrugged down a bit in her jacket.

  “I’m fine.”

  Tessa searched her again, looking skeptical. She turned back to the waitress and muttered, “Graveyard Kiss,” before waving her away.

  “So now are you going to get me drunk so you can feed on me?” Kylie muttered.

  “No,” Tessa replied in a chiding tone. “I am buying you a drink because you seem nervous, and because I think you are pretty. If a little tactless.”

  Kylie felt that creeping discomfort on the back of her neck again. “I’m sorry. I don’t normally do this.”

  “What, interact with others in a social context?” Tessa asked.

  “I don’t...”

  She nodded toward the other couches, most of which were turned discreetly in other directions to give each small corner a bit of privacy. It did little to hide the sounds of intimate exchange coming from their general direction.

  “I’ve done the bar hook-up before, but... I don’t really do scene.”

  Tessa smiled. “Oh, sweetness. This isn’t really scene, and I think in your gut you know that.”

  A heated blush rose to Kylie’s cheeks.

  Tessa touched her face, turning her to look directly into those luminous eyes.

  “Is something wrong?” the other woman asked. “You’re... it’s almost as though you’re missing something, isn’t it?”

  She said it softly, gently, without any edge of disdain that even the well-meaning sometimes couldn’t help but intone.

  “I’m missing about half a dozen something, on a good day,” Kylie muttered. “Schizoid personality disorder, they think.”

  Tessa furrowed her brow. “Really?”

  “I guess.”

  “Hm.”

  There wasn’t any sympathy in it, just an almost clinical interest.

  “So,” the other woman went on. “What were you really looking for?”

  “I don’t know,” Kylie mumbled. “Somebody told me it... it might feel good.”

  “What might feel good?”

  Kylie said nothing. Tessa, eyeing her, presently nodded. “Mm-hm.”

  The waitress returned and deposited a martini glass filled with some blue concoction on the low, dark table beside them. Tessa thanked her, slipping a few bills onto the woman’s tray, and slid the drink toward Kylie.

  “Try it,” she said. “I think you’ll like it.”

  Kylie picked up the glass, but she didn’t drink. “Are you really a vampire?” she asked finally, in a low hush.

  “Are you really schizophrenic?”

  Kylie glowered. “Schizoid. It’s not the same thing.”

  “But are you?”

  A sigh escaped her. She took a slow sip of the Graveyard Kiss—it was a sultry-sweet drink, blueberry and raspberry and strong, welcome vodka—and shrugged. “I’m something. I don’t know what.”

  “And you’re here, looking for vampires you don’t believe in, because you want to feel good?”

  “I want to feel something.”

  Tessa seemed to muse over that. Then, without warning she leaned close to gently strip away the leather jacket. Kylie let her slide it off, her normal aversion to physical closeness subdued by the shocking, hopeful little thrill that sparked in her chest as dark hands ran over her bare shoulders and down to her wrists. Tessa looked over her, at the old white scars and banded lines up and down her flesh, memories of old, closeted desperation.

  Again, green eyes came up to meet her’s. Tessa said nothing. One graceful hand fell gently to Kylie’s knee.

  After some moments, Kylie cleared her throat and nervously sipped her drink.

  “I don’t know why I came here,” she said.

  “I think I do,” Tessa murmured. She slid a little closer, then lifted up her other hand to gently tug Kylie’s hair loose from its ponytail before running her fingers through its long waves.

  “I’m not some lonely emotional teenager,” Kylie said, instantly defensive, expecting the normal barrage of scolding, impatient disregard. “I’m not just looking for attention, if that’s what you think.”

  “Of course you are,” Tessa said. Kylie opened her mouth to protest but the other woman gave her an arch look, silencing her.

  “You said you wanted to feel, but it’s more than that. You want to be seen. To be heard.”

  She brushed the back of her hand, feather-light, over Kylie’s pale cheek.

  “You want to be touched. Really, really touched. You want to feel... real.”

  She caressed Kylie’s knee softly, sending another secret blushing thrill through Kylie’s stomach.

  “And if I am real—really what you think I am, really a creature that must be sustained by your blood, a creature who needs you—then you must be a creature capable of sustaining my needs, and therefore, you must yourself be real.”

  She let her gaze drop again to Kylie’s body, just for an instant, and seemed to consider.

  “Real... and wanted.”

  Kylie’s mouth had gone dry. Her heart thumped, and when she spoke, it was in a hoarse whisper. “So are you real?”

  Tessa smiled at her. Very deliberately, she took Kylie’s hand in hers and pressed it, invitingly, to her own throat.

  Kylie realized she had started trembling. The fingers around the martini glass tightened, and her whole body went tense, excited.

  Tessa’s skin was cool to the touch. She had no pulse.

  “Oh,” Kylie murmured. Suddenly it seemed hard to breathe. “Oh, wow.”

  “Satisfied?” Tessa said, beaming.

  “Yeah.” She took a deep breath, trying to gather her thoughts. “Oh, wow.”

  Tessa took her own hand away but Kylie’s remained in place.

  “Be honest with me,” Tessa said in a low voice. “Are you here because you wanted to find someone who would kill you?”

  “No, no.” She shook her head. “I’m not, I’m not trying for suicide by vampire or anything. Oh, jeezus, vampire.”

  “Are you here to ask me to bring you along? Make you like me?”

  “I... hadn’t thought about that. I just wanted to know—”

  “If we could give you that... something... you are missing.”

  “Yeah.” She breathed.

  Her heart was racing, her whole body shivering even though she wasn’t cold. She looked Tessa over, searching her in brilliant excitement to find something that stood out, something new and different and strange that would betray the truth about what the woman really was. There had to be some sign of her alien and astonishing nature. Besides those too-bright eyes, though—and the fangs she showed when it pleased her—she looked so human. Beautiful, yes—so absolutely beautiful—but so very innocently human.

  She dropped her hand back into her lap, anxiously clutching her drink with the other. “Do you... are you going to bite me?”

  “It would be nice, since I did buy you a drink,” Tessa said with a flirting little sparkle in her eye. “But we can wait to get to that part, if you like. We can... get to know each other better.”

  “No, it’s okay,” Kylie stammered. “You can... I’ll let you, if you want.”

  Tessa regarded her patiently, perhaps deciding if the nervous, star struck human really meant it. Kylie put down her drink and pulled her hair back over one shoulder, apprehensively showing the bare white flesh of her neck.

  “Please,” she said. “I want to know how it feels.”

  “You’re not afraid it will hurt?”

  “I don’t mind if it does. Besides... I still think you’re a good vampire and you like humans.”

  “If we like a human, we make them into a vampire,” Tessa countered with a smile. “
Until then you’re still nothing but prey to me.”

  She leaned forward, taking Kylie’s left wrist in one hand while the other came up to cradle Kylie’s head, tilting her face away, exposing the curve of slender throat. As Tessa’s body pressed up against her, Kylie felt her free hand tighten into a fist against the cushy leather of the couch. She caught her breath and held it, rigid with apprehension.

  Tessa only kissed her at first. Those soft, full, dark lips pressed tenderly, tentatively against the offered flesh. It was slow and very gentle, a careful, curious sort of tasting. Kylie smelled the other woman’s perfume, mellow sandalwood over bright, brazen florals. She found herself squeezing her thighs together tightly in anticipation, as Tessa’s lips leisurely explored her throat.

  “Now,” the vampire whispered, after several moments tasting and inhaling the scent of Kylie’s skin. “You said you wanted to feel, sweetness. You want to feel something true, and deep, and real. So I want you to know that I could make this very gentle, if I wanted. I could bite you so... softly...”

  She punctuated this sentiment with another soft but firm kiss, letting her lips linger against the pulse of Kylie’s carotid artery.

  “So...sweetly...”

  Another tender, agonizing kiss...

  “So...perfectly—”

  Kiss.

  “—that you would never even know I had done it until you tasted your own blood on my lips.”

  Kylie couldn’t help it, she uttered a soft, urgent groan. Her nails dug into her palms.

  “I’m not going to do that, Kylie,” Tessa whispered. Her voice was a hungry little growl in Kylie’s ear. “I’m going to bite you very, very hard. I’m going to make you feel it, and if you scream, or cry, or if you so much as flinch away from me, I’m going to bite you even deeper, and harder, and I might...not...stop. Do you understand me, sweetness?”

  Kylie’s whole body shook violently. She managed a tight little nod.

  “Don’t get me wrong. I do like humans,” Tessa whispered, pressing more tormenting kisses along the line of Kylie’s pulse. “I especially like it when they struggle, and their blood starts pumping like crazy, and they turn into terrified little rabbits in my hands. Are you ready, Kylie?”