Fatal Kiss Read online

  Fatal Kiss

  Viola Tempest

  Published by Lena Ma, 2021.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  FATAL KISS

  First edition. December 18, 2021.

  Copyright © 2021 Viola Tempest.

  ISBN: 978-1952716348

  Written by Viola Tempest.

  Fatal Kiss

  Fatal Kiss

  Fatal Kiss

  © Copyright 2021 Viola Tempest

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Names, characters, and places are products of the author’s imagination.

  Cover Design by Amanda Pillar

  (Smoking Hot Covers)

  Table of Contents

  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 One

  Geneva Beck tapped her pencil against her lip, feigning deep thought. Her skin tingled with a thirst for blood, but there was something acrid about the conversation in the room that made her lose her appetite.

  Her last patient of the day, Felix Hart, was a Vietnam veteran and war hero who had lost his son in a car accident a few years ago. The subsequent strain it had caused on his relationship with his wife led them to couples counseling, where Geneva met them both.

  Only now, just Felix remained. His wife passed not long after his son, leaving him to deal with the burden of grief alone. With both his wife and his son gone, Felix was a dithering mess. His eyes were soppy, his skin pallid and papery. There was a perpetual look of horror on his face that Geneva doubted went away even when he was sleeping.

  She didn’t want to admit how disgusted she was by the sight of his blubbering. Often, Geneva had to fight the urge to feed on even her patients, to use their blood to quell the unquenchable, fiery thirst of vampirism in her. But Felix was something else. She couldn’t imagine how grotesque his pitiful blood would taste on her tongue.

  “Dr. Beck, how do you do it?” Felix asked, his voice warbling with unfettered emotion. “How do you fill that void in your soul? I just don’t see how I can be whole again without my wife and son.”

  Geneva refrained a roll of her eyes. It was a pity she found him so repulsive, or she might have just put him out of his misery and drained the blood from his body.

  “There is no void, Felix,” Geneva insisted. “You were whole before you met your wife or had your son, and you’re still whole now.”

  Felix shook his head. “But I’m not whole, though,” he argued. “All this loss and trauma have burned a hole through my soul.”

  He buried his face in his hands and heaved a long, watery sigh into his palms. As he collected his composure, Geneva watched him with detached interest.

  “Perhaps, you’re too young to understand,” Felix suggested.

  Inwardly, Geneva scoffed. As a vampire, she’s undoubtedly lived a much more intense life than Felix had. She’s experienced levels of trauma he could only dream of, which was part of what made her such a good psychologist. Though she was admittedly young, she had a long time to study the human psyche and analyze their behavior.

  “I’ve experienced my fair share of trauma, Felix,” she said, trying to keep the weariness from her tone.

  It got harder and harder each day for her to put up a front for her patients, to pretend to care about their problems.

  Just a few short years ago, she had gone to her usual watering hole after work to unwind. There, she met a man more handsome than she had ever seen, someone dark and mysterious, with an intriguing allure behind his mystifying eyes.

  What she thought was supposed to be a one-night stand with an attractive stranger turned out to be something much different. That was the night she had been bitten, claimed by the two fang marks that still marred the skin at the junction of her neck and shoulder. Only one was visible above the collar of her shirt, looking as innocent as a birthmark.

  That night had changed her forever. The way she had woken up in her empty bed, her blood thick and slow as it pumped through her. At first, she believed she was merely hung over. Her head pounded, and her heart raced. Soon, she became so sensitive to sunlight that she wore long sleeves and a brimmed hat even in the swelter of summer.

  When she felt that first inkling of blood lust, she knew what had happened to her. The fang marks didn’t lie, though they healed quickly. It was the compelling desire to bite into the tender flesh of other humans that confirmed it for her.

  Most women might have been horrified, but Geneva thought her vampirism was the best thing to ever happen to her. She was stronger, immortal, and more cognizant than she had ever been.

  It didn’t come completely without a cost, though. Geneva was still very new to this, still learning to battle with her bloodlust and violent impulses. Over the years, she had slain many men, feeding exclusively on her paramours. There was something more appealing about their blood, about the heat and tension between them, that sweetened their taste and filled her belly in such a satisfying way.

  But dead men could not love her, and she could not love dead men. Resisting the temptation to bite into their flesh got harder each time. She couldn’t really even say that she had ever loved any of these men, only obsessed over them, only using their affections for her to sweeten their blood and give her a satisfying meal.

  To say that she had experienced her fair share of trauma was an understatement. Geneva was the living embodiment of her trauma.

  “How do you deal with it?” Felix asked, breaking her out of her reminiscent thoughts.

  Geneva blinked at him, running her tongue over her sharp teeth. She shouldn’t have been irritated by such a simple question. It was the whole reason he had come to her, after all.

  But she was annoyed all the same because she couldn’t think of a suitable answer – at least, not for her problems.

  “Be patient, Felix,” she said calmly. “You just need a little more time to heal.”

  Felix shook his head. “The void, Dr. Beck,” he insisted. “Pretending it isn’t there won’t make it go away. What can I do to feel whole again?”

  She wasn’t sure that she had ever felt whole, so she had no idea what to say. She was growing more frustrated with him by the second.

  “Acknowledge that the void isn’t real,” she insisted. “Stop trying to fill it. You’re letting your loneliness speak for you.”

  Felix slowly heaved himself up to his feet and dusted off his khakis. “Dr. Beck, I appreciate you taking the time to see me today, but I think I may want to get a second opinion,” he said. “I can’t trust you to help me with my life when you’ve got a bigger hole in your heart than I do.”

  He walked to the door, sparing one last glance at her over his shoulder. Geneva watched him with her teeth clenched, itching to snap his neck and drain his blood, not even to drink, but just to see the crimson stain it left on her carpet.

  “Take care of yourself, Dr. Beck.”

  Geneva’s fingers were trembling when she finally left work. A few more em
ails and a final phone call were enough to get her out the door for the evening. After dealing with Felix’s appointment, she was in desperate need of some reprieve. Her stomach was growling, but she didn’t feel like dealing with the hassle of finding a suitable victim.

  Instead, she wandered down to the pier just a short walk from her office. The sun was just starting to dip below the horizon, and a thick fog encroached from the turbulent ocean. A few years ago, she would have found this place a little too unsettling to make herself comfortable. Now, she enjoyed that the eerie evening fog kept passersby in their homes. Only a fool would come out on a night like this, with the winds whipping and the tide pulling out.

  She settled down on the edge of the pier, pulling off her black pumps so she can dip her toes into the frigid water. The waves lapped roughly against the shore, spraying her with a fine mist of salt water. Geneva didn’t mind. There was something refreshing about the ocean, like it was doing its best to cleanse her.

  The roar of the ocean waves was soothing, the fog like a comforting blanket. This weather was a curse for most humans, but for a monster like Geneva, it was a blessing. The sun could not accost her like it usually did, shrouded in the billowing dark nature around her. To her, it was as blissful as lying on a sunny beach.

  Her phone rang, shattering the silent peace with its piercing shrill. Geneva sighed as she fished in her purse and pulled out her cell phone. Her sister’s name flashed across the screen. As much as she loved her sister, she wasn’t in the mood to talk to her now. Her family was blissfully unaware of her vampirism, and the more at arm’s distance she kept them, the longer she could keep it like that.

  Part of her did worry that as they began to age, and she didn’t, they would notice. One day, she would have to leave this town and start a new life somewhere else.

  That was too dark a place to let her mind drift, so Geneva reluctantly answered the call.

  “Hey, Eugenia,” she said, holding her phone against her ear with her shoulder so she could tie her hair up into a long ponytail.

  “Geneva,” her sister’s voice crackled over the static. “I haven’t heard from you in a while. Are you doing alright?”

  “I’m good,” Geneva replied. She was anything but good, but she had always been an exceptional liar.

  “Well, I miss you, Eugenia said. “Parker is having a dinner party this weekend, and we both want you to come.”

  Geneva rolled her eyes. Her sister’s husband, Parker Kim, was a sniveling, pathetic man, the kind of stuffed shirt tax attorney she would never give a second glance to. She could not, for the life of her, understand what her sister saw in him.

  “Please, Geneva,” she begged. “His sister and brother-in-law will be there, and I’d love for you to meet them. I think it would be good for you to have a friend in town, and I’m sure you’ll get along well with his sister.”

  The wind whipped Geneva’s ponytail around the back of her head as she stared out into the raging ocean. The tide was receding, baring the sharp rocks below – a lethal fall for a human, but not for Geneva. It might hurt, she thought as she peered over the edge, but she’d survive.

  “I don’t need your help to make friends, Eugenia,” Geneva chided.

  “I know. I just think you’d like her.”

  Geneva pursed her lips together. She let a brief silence crackle over the line, unsure of what to say. Eugenia wasn’t the only one in her family to remark on her absence of lovers or friends. She could never escape that judgement.

  “So, do you think you can come?” Eugenia asked. “Please, Geneva. I’d love it if you could be there. It’s been so long since we hung out.”

  With heavy reluctance, Geneva agreed. “Of course, I’ll come, Eugenia,” she said. “If it’ll make you happy.”

  Eugenia squealed, causing the static feedback to make Geneva wince and pull her ear away from the phone. “Thank you, Geneva,” she gushed. “I’ll make that shrimp scampi Parker’s mom gave me the recipe for. I know you’ll love it.”

  Geneva listened to her chatter, faintly amused. There were few people she cared as much about as her sister, and fortunately for Geneva, it was fairly simple to make her happy. As the older of the two, Geneva had always felt responsible for Eugenia, though from an outside perspective, Eugenia was the one with her life together.

  “You know, you can bring a date,” Eugenia suggested, her voice cautious. “If you want to. I think you should, though. I mean, you’ll stand out like a sore thumb if you come alone, so maybe, it would be best to bring someone along.”

  “Eugenia!” Geneva snapped. “Why are you always doing this to me?”

  “Doing what to you?” Eugenia demanded. “I’m not doing anything. I just want to see my big sister happy. Is that so wrong?”

  “You don’t want to see me happy. You want to see me with a man.”

  “Isn’t that what you want?” Eugenia asked. “You were literally obsessed with every boyfriend you’ve ever had. I just don’t understand why you refuse to date anyone now. You used to be so boy crazy!”

  Geneva rolled her eyes again. “I wasn’t boy crazy.”

  “Well, I don’t know what else you can call it,” Eugenia retorted. “Listen, if you don’t want to bring a date, that’s up to you. I’m not going to force you. I still want you to come regardless.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  Eugenia murmured her acknowledgement, though Geneva knew she already suspected she wouldn’t let it go. They said their goodbyes and hung up. Geneva resisted the strong urge to chuck her phone into the ocean.

  Chapter Two

  The sun had dipped all the way beneath the horizon, casting an ethereal darkness over the pier. Her sights were more attuned than humans, and she could still see easily in spite of the thick fog and settling darkness. She looked down to the jagged rocks below and shivered.

  With her heightened sense of hearing, she detected the sound of soft footsteps behind her. They were maybe thirty feet away but approaching her in a straight path. Her hackles were raised as the footsteps neared, but she feigned ignorance and leaned back against the dock. The wood was damp and giving beneath her fingers, the scent of salt air invading her senses.

  When the footsteps stopped, she waited with bated breath.

  “The pier is closed,” said the rich rumble of a man’s voice.

  Geneva turned her head just far enough to look at him, to gauge if he was a threat to her in any way.

  Like most men she had met, she could immediately tell that he wasn’t. She sensed nothing lethal about his blood, no sharp tang of vampirism or other night creatures on him. Yet, the sight of him still stopped her heart.

  She had never seen a man so obtrusively attractive. Even in the dark, she could see the piercing green ice of his eyes, the sweep of dark curls across his forehead. He had a strong jaw, aristocratic features that reminded her of the dukes on regency romance novel covers. Somehow, his muddied fishing waders and tattered shirt did nothing to detract from his handsomeness. It was so pervading that Geneva felt the need to fully turn her head to drink him in.

  Her nose wrinkled at him in feigned disgust. Part of her was a bit repulsed by his state of dress, but she easily overlooked it when he stepped closer, stabbing her with his steely gaze.

  “I said, the pier is closed,” he repeated, a stern set to his stubborn jaw. “There’s a storm rolling in. It’ll blow your tiny body right into the ocean, down onto those rocks.”

  Geneva repressed a shiver at the sound of his voice. He had a low, silky resonance to his tone, so rich and smooth she wanted to drink it.

  “I’ll take my chances,” she said, turning her back to him so she could face the ocean again.

  His footsteps came closer until he was standing beside her. Through her peripheral vision, she caught sight of his rubber, green boots.

  “You’re pretty brave to be out here by yourself in the dark. Hell, most people won’t even come here alone during the day,” he ventured, taking a
seat on the edge of the dock. He threw his legs over the side and let them dangle beside Geneva’s. “Not exactly dressed for the weather either. Don’t tell me you came out here on a suicide mission. I’m more than qualified to talk you down, so don’t even try it.”

  She scoffed and gave him a demure glance through her lashes. “How are you more than qualified?” she demanded.

  “When I’m not saving pretty women from certain death, I’m a psychologist,” he said. “I’m only joking, though. If I thought you were suicidal, I wouldn’t joke about it.”

  She looked at him with suspicion, feeling a sudden and overwhelming thirst for blood. There was an open cut somewhere on his body; she could smell the coppery tang so potently in the night air. He was a perfect specimen, too, a handsome stranger, alone in the dark. He smelled enticingly sweet, but she knew he could taste even sweeter.

  “A psychologist?” she asked. “I’m a psychologist, too.”

  He gave her a look of pleasant surprise, his eyes glinting. “That explains your clothes, then,” he said, gesturing to her thin black pencil skirt.

  She gave a coy shrug. “And what explains yours?”

  He returned a sly shrug of his own. “Fishing?” he asked teasingly, “I work in the next town over, but I drive up here sometimes in the evenings after work to fish.”

  The wind around them began to pick up, and Geneva saw him shiver beneath his thin cotton shirt. She didn’t have the same compulsion to shiver, but she faked one anyway and crossed her arms over her chest.

  “I guess you didn’t check the weather this time,” she said.

  He let out a low chuckle. “No, I guess I didn’t.”