First Taste (The Beautiful Blood Saga, #1)

By Violet Williams

Ramona Murphy never expected to fall for a professor--but her attraction to Dr. Celeste Adams can't be denied. Celeste is beautiful and mysterious and pushes Ramona to question if she should live the life her parents expect of her or the life she wants to lead.

But a string of gruesome student murders rocks the campus overshadows their love, with all of the victims drained of their blood. When the killer takes a morbid interest in her budding relationship, Ramona learns that Celeste has a dark secret...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Violet Williams
• Release date: Aug 11, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465884510

Violet Williams

I'm an erotica writer that spends my days camped out at coffee shops, weaving naughty tales that aren't for the faint of heart.

Book preview

back to top

I walked over to the window, breathing in the night air that slowly wafted into the room. Crescent University was renowned as one of the top state schools on the east coast, boasting a research program that pumped out state of the art undergraduate projects every year. The freshman class, my class, had an average 3.1 on entry and our theme was ‘Excelling Excellence’.

Any other night, the throngs that milled around the campus would be holed up in the library or the floor parlors. But the breeze that circulated from my open window brought in chatter about parties and dinner and keggers. With the light of the moon that shone up ahead, the night was wild with possibilities.

I ran a hand through my chin-length hair, giving it a hard shake. I glanced at the full body mirror on the back of the door and fiddled with my nose piercing. A little voice inside me whispered, I hope he likes me.

I was only setting myself up for failure. I shouldn’t put too much stock in a blind date. But it was too late…there was something about the cool night air that sunk into my bones and made me fuss over a stray hair. I told myself that getting excited about the date wasn’t pointless. I tried to assure myself that it wasn’t another dead end. Another waste of a Friday night.

I turned to my roommate, Liz Johnson, and did a little twirl. What do you think?

Her crystal blue eyes surveyed my outfit, before one perfectly arched eyebrow rose. Are you going on a date or playing in a grunge band?

This friend of yours, I began, smoothing the front of my flannel shirt. He’s not expecting…well, you, is he?

Liz was the kind of girl that turned heads on campus with her charm and easy smile. I was the girl lost in the music streaming from my ear buds.

He asked me about you actually-little to no work on my part, she answered. He digs the whole Kat Von D. thing you’ve got going on.

It was still a surprise to me. Two of the last three friends of hers I’d gone out with seemed almost shocked when I showed up in a tee and jeans instead of some frou frou top and jeans a la most of the girls on campus.

What about a pink shirt? she said, scratching her chin. Or maybe some pearl earrings?

I made a face. I don’t do pink.

"But our room is pink and you love it," she said with a toothy grin.

Our room was a virtual personification of my preppy roommate. Posters of near naked Abercrombie & Fitch models plastered the walls. Pink curtains lined the walls, coordinated with a pink shag rug beside each bed and pink desk accessories. Pink was far from my thing, but interior design was Liz’s, so I just let her Barbie-ize our room because I didn’t care much.

She slid back behind her desk and flipped open her laptop. But you could’ve at least tossed the shirt in the dryer.

Nah, I grinned. The ‘I just got outta bed’ look gives it character. I turned to the full length mirror that hung on the bathroom door, zipping my jeans. Besides, we’re meeting at a bar, not a five star restaurant. I ducked as she tossed a pillow at my head.

Is it clean at least?

I flipped up one corner of the collar and sniffed. Clean enough.

Why do I put up with you? Liz wailed dramatically.

Because my dazzling snarkiness is part of my charm, I laughed, chunking the pillow back at her.

If you would have told me a few months ago that a debutante from Virginia was bunking with me for the year and the story didn’t end in tears and bloodshed, I wouldn’t have believed you.

We were polar opposites-Liz didn’t leave the room without her face on; the closest I got to makeup was an occasional swipe of chapstick.

She had a sweet, angelic face with conservative features complete with long, golden hair that fell down her back. I kept my kinky hair short and manageable and celebrated my 18th birthday with metal and ink. I had 5 (and counting) piercing and the beginnings of some gnarly sleeves.

Liz spent her Saturday afternoons sunbathing in the quad and slathering on self-tanner. Thanks to a mother from Haiti and a father with Murphy for a last name, my skin was a light caramel and I didn’t need nor want a tan. Or skin cancer.

Liz poured through fashion magazines, scouting all the latest trends. My side of the closet was full of flannel shirts, band tees, jeans, and a couple pairs of Converse.

Liz had a steady boyfriend that she had been dating since 8th grade, and I’ve burned through guys and girls since I was 16.

Despite our differences, we avoided becoming each other’s freshman horror story and ended up becoming pretty close friends. Unfortunately, because she was practically married, she took it upon herself to find me my happily ever after. Four douchebags and one no-show later, and I must be a glutton for punishment. I just didn’t have the heart to tell her to put the matchmaking on hold.

You’ll have fun, she insisted, flashing me a supportive smile. Drake is a real sweetheart.

Drake Washington was a senior at Crescent, and from his Facebook picture, athletic and attractive in a Rebel Without A Cause way.

And she’s real old school, she added. Hold the door open and take things slow or whatever.

Unlike Casey Roberts whose idea of romance was taking me to the drive-in and feeling me up for an hour and a half? I said with an eyeroll.

I’m still kicking his ass about that, Liz said, her cheeks burning hot. Drake will be different.

Uh huh, I muttered, unconvinced. The fact that we were meeting up at a bar was kind of a red flag. Most people saw me and thought, Wild child! but I’ve only been fall out drunk once and had no desire to repeat the catastrophes of that night or the morning after. Underneath the piercings and tattoos, I wanted to be wined and dined like any other girl. I wanted romance-not chicken fingers and smelling like an ashtray all night.

But I’d squirted a bit of perfume at the nape of my neck and wore the raciest pair of underwear I could find in my drawer. There was a part of me that hoped she was right about Drake. There was a part of me that wanted to see this as a light at the end of the tunnel.

I swiped my car keys from my desk and grabbed my purse. So I’ll see you a little later.

Liz looked up from her computer screen, surprise in her baby blue eyes. He’s not picking you up?

"It is 2011, Miss Daisy," I smirked.

I saw something flicker in her eyes, something that looked a lot like doubt. Like maybe I was headed toward lucky number 6.

I’ll at least get a free dinner out of it, I assured her. Or a good story we can talk about in the morning.

Right, she laughed half-heartedly. You’ll have fun.

I pulled open our dorm room door and stepped into the hall. Giggles from our floormates spilled down the corridor.

Hey Ramona? Liz called before the door shut.

I popped my foot in the door, sticking my head back in. Yeah?

Don’t worry about being all quiet when you come back in. I’ll probably still be awake or whatever. And if I’m not, you can wake me up. She paused, biting her lip. Because I have loads of homework and-

Uh huh, I laughed. Don’t worry Liz-you’ll be the first one to know how it goes, okay?

I better, she said, trying to give me her best Don’t mess with me face. But her furrowed brow told a totally different story.

I pulled my foot from the door and pushed toward the stairwell, trying to silence the voice in my head that told me that it was going to be a long night.

Chapter Two

back to top

Crescent U. was playing Carolina, so people were packed in Joe’s like sardines in a tin can.

I scanned the crowd trying to remember what Drake Washington looked like from his Facebook page. I spotted him near the back-dart in one hand, and a draft in the other.

I maneuvered through the crowd, running a hand through my hair. I stopped a few feet from the table, extending my hand. Drake? Hey, I’m-

One second, sweetheart, he interrupted, his back to me.

Drake eyed the board like he was a stranded on a deserted island and the target was the welcome sight of rescue. He took a deep breath and when he exhaled, flicked his wrist. The dart soared…and pierced the wall beside the dart board.

I’m still warming up, he said defensively, chugging the beer.

I bet, I thought to myself.

He sprinted to the board and plucked out his dart, strutting back to the table where I stood. You’re Liz’s friend, right? Rachel?

Ramona, I corrected, trying not to sound too annoyed. He didn’t even know my name-not a good start.

That’s what I meant, Ramona, he winked, flipping his shaggy blonde hair out of his eyes. You hungry?

A little, I confessed. I hear the wings here are killer.

Yeah, he nodded, plucking the display menu from the middle of the table. But on Thursdays the chicken fingers are what’s on special, so… His voice trailed off suggestively.

Wow, I snorted. "Attentive, great memory and a big spender."

Hey! he laughed, his thick golden hair spilling back into his deep brown eyes. We’re both poor college students. He lowered his voice, scooting closer. It’s not an order, just a friendly suggestion.

I see, I said, crossing my arms.

Besides, he said, his lips brushing my cheek. I’m saving up for our second date.

You’re mighty optimistic, I said, laughing in spite of myself.

I could feel the heat rush to my face as his finger traced the outline of my cheek. He was already working my nerves, but he was undeniably cute. He towered above me, his body thick and toned. My eyes trailed upwards, past strong, capable shoulders that led up to an attractive face. His lips were thick and curled up at the corners as his mahogany eyes met mine.

A waitress skirted to our table, balancing a tray full of beers in one hand. What can I get for you guys?

Another beer for me, Drake piped. He turned to me, his eyes twinkling with mischief. How about you, Ramona? Beer, soda? He turned to the waitress, laughing. Just kidding about the beer-I’m practically robbing the cradle with this one.

Just a Coke for me, I said, rolling my eyes. Just when I was starting to find him slightly tolerable.

And to eat? the waitress asked, making a mental note of our drink orders.

I glanced at the menu briefly. I’ll take the-

We’re gonna do the chicken fingers special, Drake interjected. With ranch and- He paused, looking over at me. What dressing do you want?

I fought to keep my composure. I knew if I opened my mouth, something extremely not nice would come spilling out. I managed to shake my head without it exploding.

Alright, the waitress chirped. I’ll get that started for y’all.

I shot daggers at Drake but they were deflected when his attention returned to his other date..the dart board. He gave a loud belch, winking at me flirtatiously.

Charming, I sneered.

I try, he grinned. He pulled out a fancy leather case and disassembled his darts, one by one, putting each in separate receptacles.

So Ramona, he said after a moment. You’re a freshman right? How do you like Crescent?

I swallowed forcing a smile. Yeah, I’m a freshman, I answered. Crescent’s alright.

He nodded, sliding the dart case into his jeans. I transferred in from Chance CC, he said. I wanted to go to FSU, but when your parents foot the bill, it’s kinda outta your hands.

At least we had something in common. I wanted to go to film school. Had delusions of putting out films that weren’t geared towards the Lifetime crowd. Hard hitting, powerful stuff that made you sit and think long after the credits rolled. But film school wasn’t cheap and my parents had other plans for me.

Have you decided on a major yet? he asked, taking a sip of his beer.

Biology, I said flatly.

What?

Biology, I repeated, a little louder.

He laughed, a lyrical thing that was swallowed whole when Crescent scored a touchdown and the bar erupted in cheers.

Something funny? I asked, an edge to my voice.

He stopped, silencing the last guffaw. You just don’t strike me as the biology type.

Ah.

I mean art history, sociology maybe, he explained.

How about you? I asked, turning the attention from me. Liz told me you were a senior. Business major, right?

Yep, he replied, puffing out his chest. I’m getting my MBA after I graduate.

Sweet, I said shortly.

The crowd went wild again, and I pulled at my shirt. The room felt, hot and stuffy. It didn’t help that this date was going nowhere really fast.

I’ll be right back, Drake said, sliding off the bar stool.