Page 41 of House of Crimson Hearts
And more disconcerting, why do I feel like I’ve been here before? This room… it’s… familiar. It can’t be though because I legitimately have no fucking clue where I am.
Dark maroon curtains drape and fall over the windows, their plush velvet looks soft enough to roll in. I consider hacking them down to cover myself up when footsteps alert me to an intruder.
I spring into action, my body moving for me, thank you muscle memory. My skin is unprotected, though, and I don’t know where my leathers are or my armour. So I’ll have to go on the offensive. Attack first, ask questions later.
The haze of a memory attempts to slither back into my consciousness. That fucking dealer.
I think Octavia and I were talking. And then everything went fuzzy. She probably compelled me, the fucking filthy vampire. I bet that’s why I can’t remember anything. She must have kidnapped me. I inhale, take a deep breath and confirm that the air stinks of iron-rich perfume.
Blood.
Shit. My head still isn’t clear, my body riddled with the aftereffects of withdrawal. But I draw the best conclusions I can with the information I’ve got.
Octavia fucking Beaumont kidnapped me, and for what? Stored me in a private room just to drain me later so I can’t compete against her in her mother’s trials? Well fuck that.
I leap across the room and press my back to the wall beside the door, my blade raised to strike.
Attack first.
Question her after.
The door peels open and I lunge. I fling my arm down hard and aim right for the neck. I yank the blade out and arterial blood sprays all over me.
“Hnngsargggghle,” the man says.
“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.” My voice is high-pitched. Panic now leaking into my words. It was… he is a human.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I thought it would have been Octavia. Gods. I’m so fucked. I grab his throat and apply as much pressure as I can. But the arterial spray forces its way between my fingers. It’s all down my arms, spraying across my face, down my chest and underwear. I help lower him to the floor as a shadow appears over me, looming down.
“What on earth?” Octavia says.
“Save him for fucks sake, don’t just stand there.”
“LENNOX,” she bellows. There’s a rushing sound and another vampire appears in the doorway. “Quickly,” she says.
Lennox’s fangs drop and he plunges them into his wrist. He kneels beside me and nudges my hand away, letting the blood spray everywhere. Lennox holds his wrist to the dying man’s mouth. The man’s skin is pale, his gargled breathing short and shallow.
Gods, please, Mother of Blood, save him. The man gulps at Lennox’s wrist. Slowly, his skin colour changes, from pale death to sickly green, and then when the first rush of pink floods back into his cheeks and his throat knits back together, I swear I breathe for the first time in three minutes.
“I’m so so sorry. I thought you were going to attack me. I?—”
The man puts his hand on my wrist. His voice is cracked and gravelly. “I would love to tell you that this is the first time this has happened to me. But when you work for a vampire, getting wounded in the line of duty is an occupational hazard.” I must have caught something in his voice box and it’s still healing.
“That’s why we have healers like Lennox on hand,” Octavia says from above us.
Lennox puts his big hand around the man on the floor and hauls him standing. He slides his arm around him.
“I’m Wendell, Octavia’s head of staff,” he says and holds a trembling hand out to me.
My cheeks are flame red and not just because I’m covered in his blood, but the sheer embarrassment of the fact I could have been so reactionary.
I take his hand, but the act makes me blush even harder. I’m suddenly grateful to be smothered in blood. “I truly can’t apologise enough.”
I realise then that my clothes are strewn across the floor. Wendell catches me looking.
“Ah, yes. I was bringing them back for you all laundered.”
