Page 20 of House of Crimson Hearts
“Red, hey. You sleep well?” he says.
“Morning,” I say as he ruffles my already unruly hair. Lincoln is, without doubt, the best hunter and human I’ve ever met. Along with Bella, who lives in New Imperium, the closest city to us, they’re my besties and I’d die for them both.
Lincoln slides an arm around my shoulder. It feels more like a tree trunk. The man is built like a castle, has a jaw that could cut diamonds and women falling at his feet twenty-four hours a day. Too bad for them, he doesn’t date until he really knows a person. And I know what you’re thinking.
But we haven’t.
We wouldn’t.
He’s more like the brother I never had. Besides, I am, like, really,deeplyinto boobs. Just not boobs attached to a drainer… obviously. And don’t you dare throw my dream at me, it was just a dream. Meaningless.
I pull a hand over my face trying to eradicate the memory.
“You ready for our birthday next month? I’m thinking a huge party in that club in the Midnight Market. You know, the one that keeps all your secrets?” he says.
Lincoln and I share a birthday week. There’s only three days between us, so we’ve always celebrated together every year since we joined the Academy. I stiffen under his grip.
“No?” he says, his voice hitching. “What’s wrong with the club?”
Ahh, the Whisper Club… Octavia’s territory. Of course he would pick there. But his face is so bright, his eyes twinkle at me in a way that I literally can’t say no to.
“Nothing. It’s a good idea. You happy to organise?” I squeeze his waist, which is like squeezing granite.
“Course. I was thinking we could invite your friend Bella and maybe some of the others from our year group, I think there’s a couple of others with birthdays next month.”
There’s not many of our year group left, maybe a couple of dozen still working for the Academy, and we’re the only two left from our specific squad.
“Sure, it’s a big birthday for us all. Entering our thirties and all that. Might as well make a big deal of it.” I smile, though I’m not convinced my poker face makes me look happy.
Lincoln and I came up through the Academy together but everyone else either died or moved on to work in other cities—or got bribed enough by the vampire houses to betray us and go to the other side.
Erin was the most famous of all the hunters who betrayed us, though she’s a few years ahead of us. Apparently, she had a lot of potential as a hunter. But as I’ve learnt the last two weeks, since Amelia, everything always leads back to Octavia fucking Beaumont, including Erin.
We make our way through the castle corridors, the place is a maze. The first two weeks of any new cohort we’re basically support blankets for the lost and confused, poor pups.
“What are you teaching today?” Lincoln asks as we pass a new instructor and her eyes slide up Lincoln’s combats and vest.
“Umm, I have the third years for defensive weapons training, and then I’m teaching basic hunter history to the new cohort until lunch.”
“Sweet. I have the second years for PT for the whole morning.”
“Five coins says you can’t make that cocky lad puke.” I grin. It’s bad we do this. We probably shouldn’t but sometimes the kids need to learn the hard way to keep their mouths shut.
“Six says I can do it in thirty minutes.”
“Deal.” I grin and shake his hand and he peels off, heading towards the PT gym.
I find my third years in the main training hall. The newbies start in the smaller halls and the longer they remain in the program, the bigger, badder and harder their training gets.
“Morning, Red,” Winston, my favourite third-year, says. And yes, I’m aware favouritism is frowned upon, but get any trainer drunk and they’ll confess who their favourite is. And if they don’t, they’re lying. Some of us prefer the ones that try hard, other trainers like the ones a little rough around the edges, those with a bit too much sass and attitude, and other trainers prefer the quiet underdogs. Those kids are always my favourites.
“Class is looking a little thin this morning, where is everyone?” I ask Winston.
The more I take Winston in, the more I realise he’s looking more than a little off. He’s a scrawny lad. But he’s strong despite being eighty-five percent limb and bone. He’s lightning quick too, like a viper in the ring. And even though three-quarters of his squad are bigger than him, girls included, most of them don’t want to train with him anymore because he’s lethal.
What alerts me to the fact something is wrong are the dark bags under his eyes. The whites are shot through with capillaries. He’s been crying? Even the curves of his nose are redder and raw looking.
My body is instantly tight, on alert. “What happened?”
