Ghoul Kisses
Copyright © 2017 by J.M.Stoneback
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Editor: Librum Artis
Proofreader: Carol Agnew
Cover Designer: Cover Reveal
Formatter: Champagne Formats
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
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
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
A Note from the Author
Acknowledgments
About the Author
“I’m not going!” I shout, flopping across the end of my bed.
“Of course you are! Getting hired at one of the top hospitals in the country is cause for a celebration!” Vanessa, my best friend of six years, thinks we should celebrate every accomplishment in our lives. She just wants to go out and get shitfaced. Well, I can’t. I have to be at orientation at 8:00 a.m. tomorrow morning. Showing up at the hospital reeking of alcohol gives the wrong impression to the boss. I accepted a job at the University of Washington Medical Center as an oncologist, treating people who suffer from cancer. As a survivor myself, I want to help others survive this devastating disease.
Vanessa ambles to my closet and begins searching through my clothes. She is dressed in her backless maxi dress and open-toe high heels; her brown sugar hair is pushed up in a bun. Vanessa is naturally pretty, requiring no makeup to look glamorous. Sometimes, I am jealous of how beautiful she is.
“If I go, will you leave me the hell alone?” I sigh.
“Pinkie promise,” she answers sweetly.
She holds up a crimson cocktail dress. I drag myself out of bed, tossing my sweatshirt and leggings on the white carpet. Standing in my purple lace panties and bra, I want to wipe that smirk off her face for forcing me to go out. Annoyed, I snatch the dress out of her hand and slide it over my body. Vanessa motions me to the chair in front of my vanity. I watch her in the mirror as she dabs nude gloss on my lips and glides eyeliner around my bright green eyes. Nessa works mousse into my black, curly hair to make it more defined and then looks me over, nodding in approval. When Vanessa glams me up, she does a good job. Standing, I reluctantly step into my red heels. High heels are not my forte. I prefer to wear flats; they don’t hurt my feet. The only reason why I am wearing these ridiculous shoes is because I don’t want to hear Nessa bitch about it. Nessa and I are complete opposites when it comes to fashion. She keeps up with the latest runway shows and often drags me along. She prefers dresses and elegant clothing; I prefer jeans, T-shirts, and gym clothes. She is a registered nurse, and I often wonder why she never chose to major in fashion or work in the clothing field.
I collect my old, rusty key necklace with the initials C.R.R. from the nightstand and toss it in my brown Michael Kors purse. My mom gave me the necklace, before she passed away. She told me to keep it with me, for good luck. Never believed in luck, but I keep it because it’s the only item I have that belonged to her.
She glances at me in the mirror and claps her hands together.
“You look amazing!” Surprise tinges her voice.
“I hope you know you owe me,” I say through tight lips. She ignores my comment and grabs my hand.
“Come on, let’s go show off our hot bodies.”
The Uber driver drops us off in front of a nightclub. Music seeps through the building, causing the ground to vibrate. The weather is lovely for July; it’s not warm enough to wear shorts, but it’s not cold enough to wear a jacket. The air feels nice and inviting to my skin.
Vanessa bites her nails as she glances at a cluster of people standing at the edge of the curb. Why is she nervous? She sashays up to a muscular guy with a short blonde haircut, blue eyes, and pale complexion. He wearing a long-sleeved, collared shirt with black pants, and is holding a bouquet of fresh white lilies. He doesn’t look like the type I would be interested in. They shake hands, speak to each other, and make their way back to me. He gawks at me like I’m eye candy and clears his throat before speaking.
“I’m Pete. You must be Sarah, right?” His voice is husky. I don’t respond, instead choosing to stare down Nessa.
“This is your date, Pete,” she says meekly. My cheeks heat up as my anger begins to grow. She could have given me a heads-up before dragging me out here, so I wouldn’t look stupid, not knowing what the hell I am getting myself into! I yank her to the side, making sure we are out of earshot of Pete.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were setting me up on a blind date?” I whisper-hiss. She gives me an apologetic look before answering.
“Because I knew you wouldn’t agree to it.” She pauses for a moment, searching for the right words to say. “You need to date. Having one night stands isn’t going to cut it, and it’s not going to fill the void from the loss of Jessie.” Her hazel eyes fill with sadness. “It’s time to let go of the past.” I fight back the lump in the back of my throat, which is the size of a golf ball. The truth hurts, especially when it comes from a person you love. I understand her concerns, but she has no right to try to decide what is right for me. Guilt constricts my chest as I think about Jessie’s death. My sister should be living right now, not me. She donated a portion of her liver to me so I could survive cancer, yet she died. Sometimes, life is a cold-hearted bitch. If I want to sleep around and not have a romantic relationship, then it’s my choice. Nessa means well, but sometimes she is overbearing.
“Don’t pull this shit again,” I threaten. Vanessa smiles as she leads me to Pete. Pete hands Vanessa the flowers to take to my condo.
Vanessa gets into the Uber car, and it drives off. I couldn’t stand the poor guy up, so I’ll suck it up, deal with it, and go on this date.
“Let’s ditch the club and go to a restaurant,” Pete suggests, looping his arm with mine. It feels weird, because I haven’t been on a date since my senior year at Seattle University.
“I made us a reservation at Salty’s,” he says with a wink.
An Uber comes to the curb, he opens the car door, and I slide in.
“That’s my favorite restaurant,” I blurt, surprised and pleased.
“Yeah, Vanessa hinted it to me when I met her at the grocery store. She went on and on about how amazing you are.” I blush at his comment.
“What else did she tell you about me?” I ask, strapping the seatbelt over my shoulder.
“You’re an oncologist, and you just got a new job, and she wants you to celebrate with me.” I hear the nervousness in his voice.
Minutes later, the car stops, and we step onto the curb of the street.
We stroll to the front entrance of the restaurant, and the host shows us to a table overlooking the Alki beach. The briny air hits my nostrils as I am seated across from Pete. The waitress comes and hands us our menus. Usually, I’ll order the
smoked half chicken. But since we are celebrating my new job, I order the fresh lobster with a glass of red wine. Pete orders a beer. The waitress jots our order down, collects the menus and leaves.
“You’re not hungry?” I ask, trying to make conversation.
“No,” he murmurs. The night is inky blue, the buildings of Seattle lit up in red, white, and green. We sit, not speaking, chatter filling the atmosphere.
Finally, Pete breaks the silence by asking me what my dislikes and likes are—the stuff you would ask on a first date. He didn’t offer any information about himself, and a part of me is glad because I couldn’t care less. I don’t plan to see him after tonight. The waitress sets the plate of food in front of me. I break the lobster claw, remove the meat and dip it in garlic butter. Placing the soft meat in my mouth, I revel in the sensation of it melting on my tongue. Butter drips down my chin, and I take a napkin, wiping it away. I eat in silence and finish my wine, the waitress coming by and refilling my glass.
I am ready for this to be over, and fuss at Vanessa about hooking me up with boring men. Don’t get me wrong; Pete is a nice guy, but I can’t see myself sleeping with him. And if I can’t do that, what’s the point of us trying to date? That sounds shallow, but when I find the right guy, I want to be able to crave him, his touch, everything about him, I want to be able to fall so hard for a guy that I get a stupid grin on my face every time I think of him.
“You want to take a walk on the waterfront before ending the night?” he asks, dropping a crisp hundred-dollar bill on the table. I want to refuse, but I don’t want to hurt his feelings. Instead, I nod my head.
We stroll on the sidewalk. From our side of the waterfront, I can see the city lights reflecting off the ocean. It’s a lovely view. Pete grabs my hand, and quickly I pull away not wanting to give him the wrong impression. We continue to walk in silence. My phone dings. I fish for it in my purse and click on the notification button. It’s a message from Vanessa.
How is your date? R U enjoying yourself?
Boring, I’ll tell you about it tomorrow.
I hit the send button.
Okay,
I toss my phone back into my purse.
“Pete, thank you for dinner, but can we finish this another time? I have to start work early tomorrow.” I fake yawn for emphasis.
“Where is the key?” he asks.
“Huh?” I answer, confused.
“The fucking key!” he screams at me. Everything happens so fast. My eyes begin to play tricks on me—his eyeballs turn black, and two pointy teeth protrude from his mouth. I thrust myself in the opposite direction, trying to scream for help, but fear grips my throat. My heart hammers in my chest as adrenaline spikes in my blood. Out of nowhere, Pete stands in front of me, pushes me down on the hard concrete, and crawls on top of me. I slap and punch him in the face, but he doesn’t flinch. He pins my arms above my head.
“Give me the fucking key, bitch!” What the hell is he talking about?
“Nessa has my house key,” I eek out, my voice barely a whisper.
I try to wiggle my way out of his grip, but it is no use. His lips press over my mouth and tears run down my cheeks unchecked. I feel his slimy tongue slithering down my neck, and a sharp, stabbing pain in my neck. A burning sensation crawls through my veins, weakening me further. My vision becomes blurry, and everything goes black.
My calves ache as my feet hit the pavement, steadily moving me along the Alki trail. I need this run to get some fresh air, clear my mind, and get away from the bullshit back at home.
My two brothers have been on my case about me not finding the Zenith book, a critical component to ridding this world of the scourge known as vampires. The vampire and ghoul war forced us, the ghouls, into human society, to live among them until we rebuild our kingdom. This place doesn’t feel like home. I hate this shit, everything about it. I hate having to hide my true nature from the humans, so they won’t see us as a threat, and living by their stupid laws. I will make the vamps pay for what they did to us.
I stop running, rubbing my heaving chest and catching my breath. Yanking my shirt over my head, I swipe at the sweat dripping down my face, using a tree to lean on. I freeze at the sound of a moan. I scan the area, spying a female human lying a few yards away in the grass, blood dripping steadily from her neck. Her dress is bloody and torn.
“Female, are you okay?” I ask. She pushes her hand up to stop me, her eyes are pressed shut. She is in shock, both mentally and physically. That’s what happens after a vampire drinks from a human.
“I’m going to help you,” I murmur.
Usually, I wouldn’t bother the human, because vampires like to come back and finish their meals. But, I hate to see any female or youngling hurt, no matter what kind of creature they are. Searching the grass, I find the female’s shit and shove it in her purse. Scooping her in my arms, I make quick work of the distance back to my car and thrust her into my red Porsche. As I slide in the driver seat, I tap the start button on the car, the engine humming to life. I need to call Dr. Edward; he knows how to treat humans. He works at a hospital in Seattle. Hitting the Bluetooth button, I request his number, as I smoothly navigate the car onto the road. His phone rings, and he answers.
“What can I do for you, Sire?” His voice is deep; I hear papers shuffling in the background.
“Did I catch you at a bad time?” I ask as I turn right at the stop sign.
“Not at all.”
“I have a human with me, and she needs blood.” I couldn’t let this beautiful creature die.
“What does her blood smell like?”
I take my right hand off the steering wheel and use my index finger to touch the blood from her neck. Bringing it to my nose, I take a cautious sniff.
“Silver,” I answer, wiping the blood on my black gym shorts.
“Okay, I’ll meet you at the mansion in fifteen minutes.” He hangs up the phone. Mercer Island, where I live, is about twelve minutes from Seattle. It’s a small island community, comprised mostly of wealthy, dual-income families and couples. It has local bars, clubs, groceries stores, but it’s more of a small-town feel.
I drive through the metal gates, cut the engine and scoop the human in my arms. Carrying her to a guest room on the fifth floor, Nicholas, my oldest brother, spots me. He has jet-black hair that reaches his shoulders and a scar across his nose that he received from a vampire who attacked him during the war. He wrinkles his nose.
“Take her back; the human can’t be here,” Nicholas demands as he follows me. Ignoring him, I open the bedroom door and place her on the queen-sized bed. Nick leans against the wall, his cornflower blue eyes narrowing. He is reading my emotions, trying to figure out if I want her. Not only can he read emotions, but he can also manipulate the emotions of other ghouls. He has a history of manipulating females into sleeping with him, tricking them into thinking they love him. I might be an asshole by fucking females and not bonding with them, but playing with the emotions of others is fucking immoral. Females view him as ugly because of the scar; consequently, he hasn’t found a mate.
“She might be a hunter.” The timbre of his voice is deep. Hunters kill anything that is a threat to the human life.
“Does she look like a fucking hunter?” I ask sarcastically.
Dr. Edwards strides in, wearing his white lab coat with a black suit underneath. His eyes are green, and his hair is orange. We grew up together back in Venice, Italy, partying, drinking, and fucking. He’s changed a lot; he has a mate with three offspring now. Edwards is my close friend, even though we don’t speak as often. Setting his medical bag on the floor, he bows towards me. He walks up to the bedside and takes out an instrument, putting a piece in his ear and pressing a round thing on her chest. Edwards peers at his watch. What a strange ritual. Then he tucks the instrument back in the medical bag. He pulls out two packets: one with blood, and one with clear fluid, and rests them on the brown nightstand. He pokes a needle in the back of her hand, connects t
he two bags to the needle and tubing, then hangs them both on a tall pole. I’ve never seen anything like it. Ghouls don’t require a lot of medical attention because we have healing abilities unless we are injured beyond repair. Humans are fragile and weak.
“As soon as the human is awake, she needs to leave. That’s an order, Eric,” Nicholas says before he slams the door shut. He thinks he is in charge because he is the oldest. When dad passed away, he put all three of us in charge, not just him, so I’m going to do what the fuck I want. If I want her here, she will be here. Edwards slings his bag over his shoulder.
“I gave her blood, saline, and a healing potion; it will heal the scar on her neck,” he says as he grabs the doorknob.
“If her condition gets worse, give me a call.” He walks briskly down the hall, no doubt back to his day job.
After surveying the female’s bloody, tattered clothes, I go the bathroom, run some water into a bowl, and grab a washcloth and a big shirt from the closet. I don’t want her covered in blood when she wakes up. Through the intercom, I call Kate, my housekeeper, to help me with the human.
Kate’s eyes glow blood red as she stands in front of the bed, looking at the human. She tucks her purple hair behind her ears. Kate is cute, with pretty, smooth skin. I thought about fucking her a few times before she bonded Mac, but once I got to know her, I realized she was too annoying to be with.
“Help me wash her,” I order.
“Why didn’t you let her die?” Her voice is mousy.
“Don’t question my authority,” I snap. Kate looks at me in shock, then nods.
“What do you want me to do, sir?” She takes the washcloth and the bowl of water from me, eyes downcast.
“Clean the blood off her,” I direct, pointing at the human. She disappears briefly and returns with a bottle of soap that puts off a feminine scent. Kate dabs soap on the cloth and places it on the nightstand.
I cut off the human dress and Kate removes her bra. The human’s breasts are beautiful and small. Focus, Eric. Kate lifts her arms and starts washing away the blood. I quickly avert my eyes, but my dick gets hard anyway.
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