Bait: Tales Dripping in Crimson

By Erica Beale

There is only one way to lure a sex-crazed demoness out into the open: offering bait she can't resist
....And there is one southern gentleman who fits the bill.

Detective Mark "Kip" Kipper has only recently come to the knowledge of the supernatural world around him. On loan from the Crimson PD to the Department of Paranormal Affairs and Activities, he is assisting Special Agent Xander Sun in investigating a series of attacks made by a mysterious creature that uses lust to capture its prey.

He's a lonely, but kindly man, so frightened of intimacy, he will practically run in the opposite direction of a beautiful woman. But when Mae saunters into the bar, he finds himself unable to do anything but fall all over her. Letting his guard down something he hates. With her, it seems like the easiest thing in the world.

Will Kip be able to resist the pull of a creature who feeds on his darkest desires, or will he succumb to the ecstasy she promises in poisoned, honey-covered whispers?

Even a southern gentleman has his limits.

Welcome to Crimson, a posh, ocean-side city on the Eastern Shore of Maryland. But it's not just a tourist trap; it's home to all sorts of things that go bump in the night. Vampires, Skinwalkers, and Witches, among other creatures, roam the city streets, preying on the unwitting humans who have serviced them for generations.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Erica Beale
• Release date: Jun 2, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463970652

Erica Beale

Smut writer was supposed to be a joke!By listing "smut writer" as a profession on Facebook many moons ago, a page was created in its honor. Despite not knowing what to do with the moniker, the likes began to mount. Not one to waste a gift, I decided to attempt to take up the mantle.Now I'm diving into the role. I've always dabbled in erotica (particularly of the dark urban fantasy variety), but since I have more time on my hands than I used to, I've decided to dive deeper into the hobby. More works to come. If you're looking for a quickie or two, check out my site ericabeale.com.

Book preview

Bait

Tales in Crimson

Erica Beale

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the product 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.

Copyright © 2022 by Erica Beale (Smashwords Edition)

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations of the book

2nd Edition

Xan passed Agent Marcus Smith’s paperwork back to me. The three of us walked down the long hallway at a brisk pace, with me trailing behind. I’m the new guy, so I kept myself as quiet as possible: listening, observing, and learning. I’ll admit to being intimidated. We raced down the pristine white passage, our footsteps bouncing off the barren walls. And I had no clue where we were heading.

Our first conscious victim. A young adult male. Skinwalker. Wolf. Part of the Tribe, Agent Marcus informed us, ticking off the answers to the usual questions.

Well, informed Xan, if I’m being honest. Since I was still new to the group, people treated me like I didn’t have the brain the Good Lord blessed me with. Truthfully, I hardly understood anything about anything at this point. It was terrifying how little I understood the real city of Crimson.

The Tribe leader is on his way to the guy up. Should be here in less than a half-hour, Marcus added.

Where was he found?

Three blocks from The Moonlit Mile on Bartley Circle, in a tiny community park not too far from that fancy doll-maker’s shop. The one that all the rich people go to. Such a waste of money.

What are the chances this one’s a vampire attack?

I’m thinking none. Just like with the rest of the victims we’ve found, not a scratch on him. He’s the only victim not in a coma, and that’s the only difference of note. There are no indications suggesting vampires we’ve been able to pinpoint. There’s no bite, no blood, and no scratches. Nothing to go by to aid us in the hunt.

Xan stopped and turned toward Marcus with a slight frown on his face. Marcus, not all vampires feed on blood. Some feed on energy. You should know that by now, he chided.

Marcus cocked one of his thick, dirty blonde eyebrows. He narrowed his blue eyes at the other man with a look that said ‘give me a break.’

Most people acted nervous around Xan—not this guy. Really, I didn’t get those who were unnerved by the man. He was an extremely calm and collected, bordering on icy, but that might have been more nature than nurture. He told me he had been cursed with a lack of emotions many years ago. Literally. Witches and spells and the whole supernatural shebang. I didn’t have the whole story yet, but I was sure it would be damn fascinating to learn more, should he ever tell me.

I’m well aware, sir, Marcus said in an apologetic tone with a hint of snark. He ran his hand over his bald head in frustration. Everyone was extra tired and stressed from this case and the cracks were starting to show. The kid says she didn’t seem like any vampire he’s ever seen or smelled. Marcus shrugged with exasperation. I don’t know what to tell you.

It was Xan’s turn to nod. He turned and continued down the hallway. Marcus and I glanced at each other for a short second and then hurried after him.

If it’s the same perp from our other cases--which this appears to be--this would be the tenth attack this week alone and the twenty-third since the beginning of the month.

I piped in, That we are aware of.

He peered over his shoulder at me. His dark green-hazel eyes burrowed into my soul.

Exactly, Kip. Hopefully, with the information we gather, this will be the last.

We stopped in front of the medical holding room. Beyond the glass window sat the traumatized the young wolf. A gray blanket wrapped around him while he hid in a corner of the room instead of resting on the bed. He had such a lost look on his color-drained face. I ached for him. The wolf must have been through something awful.

He’s a baby, ain’t he? I asked, more to myself than anyone.

Don’t let him fool you, Kipper, Marcus told me. He’s thirty-three. Skinwalkers are known to age extremely well.

I rubbed a hand over my face, shocked and amazed. "I would