Page 71 of House of Crimson Hearts
But I realise I’m being selfish. There are more ways to hurt a person than death or physical injury. The more Dahlia smiles, the more Red chews on the bottom of her lip.
It’s a mere formality now, but the Chief’s hand pulls my name out of the bowl. “Octavia Beaumont.”
And Mother follows suit. “Red… Oh,” she says flipping the card over as her expression darkens. “There’s no surname.”
“Don’t have one,” Red says and winks at the Chief.
Except I know she’s lying. Her name is Verity Fairbanks, and the night she told me was the night she broke my heart…
INTERLUDE
OCTAVIA
One Year Ago
There is a strange phenomenon in cities. You can go your entire life and never bump into a person who lives just two streets from you. But once you do, the city conspires to bring you together, like waves to the shore.
That was how it was with Red and me.
I was the moth, and the city set light to her flame. For a year, we met in passing, casual occasions and coincidences. I saved her from a rowdy vampire protesting the cure at the Festival of Blood, she was on a night out with hunters in the Whisper Club.
On and on it went until she relented, or perhaps I finally charmed her.
* * *
“Happy anniversary,” I say, holding a glass of vintage Sanguis Cupa out to clink against Red’s.
“Happy anniversary, I can’t believe it’s been a year,” Red says and cuts a sliver of steak, which elicits those delicious sounds of pleasure when she chews and swallows.
The restaurant we’re in seated us at the back relatively out of the way to prevent me terrifying the other guests.
But it’s filling up, a busy night for expensive dinners it seems, so Red and I swap seats, putting my back to the restaurant so that I don’t scare the customers away.
“I bought you a gift,” Red says, and slides a small rectangular package across the table.
“What is it?” I ask.
She shrugs, her eyes glinting at me.
I unwrap it and find a remote. “What is this?” I ask, poking at the buttons.
Red gasps. Sits bolt upright. Her cheeks flame pink.
I frown at her, then glance back at the remote as the realisation dawns on me. A slow smile spreads across my lips.
“Are you wearing what this controls?” I ask.
“Maybe.” She presses her lips together trying to hide the grin.
“Oh, I am going to enjoy this evening very much.”
She giggles at me.
I lean forward, “Are you wearing any underwear under that skirt.”
Her eyes bug wide but she nods.
“Take them off,” I whisper.
