Page 46 of House of Crimson Hearts
So how the fuck does Octavia know?
I rip the bathroom door open, but Octavia is already walking out of the bedroom. I chase after her, wrapping the towel around me tight.
“Wait, for fuck’s sake.”
She doesn’t. Of course she fucking doesn't. She just walks, or swaggers is more accurate, out the room and down the hall. Her hips swing in this delicious curve through the air. Half of me wonders if she’s doing it on purpose or whether it’s just her blood in my system that makes me aware of her every moment.
But I can’t take my eyes off of her hips.
Her ass.
It’s curved and round in all the right places.
She veers left despite my protestations. I skip and jog to keep up. But my little legs pale compared to the length of hers. And I’m barefoot.
She’s speeding up too. Totally on purpose knowing I’m struggling to keep up.
“OCTAVIA,” I shriek.
This time, at least, she cocks her head over her shoulder, giving me a devious grin. Wendell, the head of staff, pops his head out of a door on the right. He opens his mouth to speak but closes it again and shuts his door when he sees me with a blade in my hand and wearing only a towel.
Octavia turns right, into a new wing, which is quieter. Not just quiet, but silent. There are no staff, no people anywhere. Almost like it’s a private wing. I wonder if it’s hers.
Finally, she reaches the end of the wing’s corridor, turns left and there she vanishes through a leather-studded door.
“What the hell?” I mumble and open the door.
And there I halt.
“Ah, shit.” This is very definitely a sex room.
The walls are dark, the kind of blood red that’s not quite dried but isn’t liquid anymore. The lights are low, a dim ember colour like a dying fire. From the ceiling, chains and handcuffs hang. On the walls there are countless toys, straps, floggers, dildos, and fuck knows what else. There’s a four-poster bed in the middle of the room, rich black curtains hanging from the gilded, gothic frame.
Well, this is all rather uncomfortable. I came to find out how the fuck she knows my name, and now my pussy is throbbing with want. Just looking at the toys in here is enough to make me wet, let alone thinking about using them.
“I said...” I start trying to stay focused and ignore the very appetising room. “How the hell do you know my real name? No one knows it.”
She smiles. But says nothing.
“My blood is in your system.”
I shrug and have to grab at my towel as it drops a little. “And?”
“And?” She huffs. “And… Verity, I don’t give my blood freely. That’s why Lennox is here. To fix any of my humans who get sick.”
I bristle at my name in her mouth. It’s so foreign hearing it that it doesn’t even feel like it belongs to me. “So? Bravo, you’re a saint. A real white knight vampire not dishing out your blood.”
Fire burns hot in her eyes. She snarls as she speeds across the room and into my personal space. My nose fills with the scent of her. Of oud and spice, and winter nights.
She takes a step closer to me. So close that I can smell her perfume. Like winter hugs and city nights. Like desire and bonfire smoke and kisses from soft lips.
“Do you know why I don’t indulge humans with my blood?”
“I don’t know, Octavia, but I bet you’re going to tell me.”
“Because, when another has my blood, it creates a bond. The kind of bond that creates certain feelings.”
My breath hitches. “What, like the need to fuck? I’m sure we will survive,” I say as the first hint of flutters drift through my stomach. This is so fucked up. Nothing I feel is real. It’s just the blood.
