Page 24 of House of Crimson Hearts
OCTAVIA
Mother has turned the entire club into a farce. Instead of the usual dim lighting, moody rouges and dark furniture, the place is bright and full of fucking crystal chandeliers.
“Come now, sister, it could be worse,” Gabriel says as he slides next to me on the mezzanine, a bag of books over his shoulder. He folds his arms.
“And how’s that? Look at the state of my club.”
“Oh, it could be worse, it could be in the library archive.”
I glare at him. “Clearly that is not worse.”
He shrugs, nonchalant, “It would be for me. I’m quite content with this.”
“You’re an arsehole of the highest proportions.”
“Takes one to know one, Octavia.”
I huff out a frustrated noise and leave him to read in one of the booths. I slide down the stairs, my hand unable to grip the rail for all the twinkling fucking fairy lights. At least these are red, I suppose.
Red. Fucking Red. I knew two weeks ago saving her sister was a mistake. It’s happening all over again. I swore this would be the last time.
Someone barges into me. A decorator.
I growl, and the man startles, drops his box and dashes out of my way.
“Useless,” I snarl.
Mother’s decorators need executing. There are gaudy white and cream curtains draped across the usually black and maroon walls. Brightening up the place. Chandeliers have been drilled into my glass ceiling, everything sparkles and twinkles like a fairytale ball. It’s disgusting.
The club’s usual bass music is replaced with stringed instruments and an orchestral band. Xavier appears at the bottom of the stairs, his dark eyebrow set to firmly raised.
“This is…”
“A travesty?” I finish for him.
“Quite. Where are the donors? I’m hungry.”
“Ugh,” I tut at him. “Mother requested the removal of all cages. Then she gave all donors and all dancers paid leave. She said she wants this to be a civilised affair, and she didn’t feel the hunters would be welcome if we had half a dozen vampires slipping into blood lust or fucking half drained humans on the dance floor.”
“Gods, she’s gotten boring in her age,” Xavier says and that, at least, elicits a laugh from me. He glances down at me, the ballgown I’m wearing.
“Wow, you actually do scrub up half decent. You’re looking ravishing this evening,” he says and offers me his arm.
“Thank you,” I say and jostle my outfit. My breasts are sat high in this corset, bulging over a little. The silk sheen of the skirts flows over my arse and thighs. There’s a slit that is dangerously close to impolite cut over my right thigh. I like the way my leg slips out of it.
“No date tonight?” I ask him.
“Well, I thought I’d take one of the donors, but apparently not. I guess I’ll have to find a nice hunter to debase. How about you? You’re looking far too delicious not to get laid this evening.”
“Thank you, Xavier, but no. I think I shall keep my modesty intact tonight. I’m far too preoccupied with A) getting my club back, and B) finding out what Mother is up to.”
“It doesn’t look like you’ve long to wait…” he says and points at the club doors as a mob of people enter, humans, hunters, vampire nobles alike, they all come pouring in. The orchestra ratchets up a notch. I spot Dahlia, looking actually rather tasteful in a deep navy dress suit and dicky bow. It’s tight to her physique, her arms and shoulders bulging in the slim-fitting attire. Even if she’s a prick, I’ll have to remember to tell her she looks nice this evening.
“Where’s Sadie?” Xavier asks.
I nod to a booth in the corner of the room. Sadie’s wearing a shimmering, floor-length, deep maroon-coloured dress, a stark contrast to her white hair.
Amelia, Red’s sister, appears, carrying a goblet of blood. “Evening,” she says.
