Page 4 of House of Crimson Hearts
Oh, this is simply priceless. Just the thing I need to entertain me. It’s been two weeks since I saw her. Since that night that turned us from casual acquaintances to mortal enemies—this time.
I hop over the balcony and jump to the ground a floor below.
Human dancers lean away from me, some face away. Even unaware of my presence, their subconscious thinks I’m a freak. Gooseflesh crawls up their arms, signalling a predator is nearby. Well, they needn’t worry. I’m far too preoccupied with the fun I’m about to have to care about them. I skirt around the edge of the dance floor and creep silently up behind Red. The music beat shifts up a gear, the light flickers and I stand right behind her. The urge to lean in and sink my teeth into her neck is overwhelming. I inch forward when something sharp pricks at my gut.
I frown and look down.
What. The. Fuck?
The point of a stake is pricking my gut.
Chapter2
RED
Octavia Beaumont stands at my back, breathing down my neck.Filthy fucking vampires.
“I smelt you twenty feet away,” I growl as I slip the vial of blood into my trouser pocket. Not quite the truth. I felt her presence more than smelt her, given hunter instincts and all. But I don’t want her knowing what skills I do and don’t have. The less a vampire knows about you, the better. And I want nothing to do with this vampire in particular. I had the displeasure of meeting her ten days ago, when she stole the last shred of family I had from me.
“And I thought vampires were the ones with heightened senses. Would you mind removing that from my stomach? It tickles,” she says.
I hold steady. What I want is to gut her, tear her insides out, and choke her with them because of what she took from me. But unfortunately, this vampire is practically royalty and while there are ample justifications hunters have for staking vamps, I’d have to have acres of them to kill this one.
The point of my stake bites at her skin. A drop of blood oozes down the wood. The scent of it wafts and coils into my nose. My mouth drops, salvia builds under my tongue. Fuck. I shake myself off. Heat flooding my cheeks, pooling between my legs. Fuck, fuck. I’ve been clean for ten days—ever since my sister, Amelia… Anyway, I came here because I wanted to forget. It was a mistake. The last thing I need is to get hooked on blood even more potent than I was on. This was a mistake. I need to leave before I can’t.
“Oh, now that is interesting,” Octavia says and wraps her cool fingers around my hand and holds the stake in place. Her touch is electric. A vicious spark, both cool and fiery. It’s enough I have to fight a shiver.
Then she steps closer to me, sinking the point deeper into her gut. I gasp. But she’s unrelenting. One step closer. Two. Then three. Each movement driving the wood into her belly.
“What the fuck?” I hiss, trying to break away and pull the stake out of her stomach. This isn’t a game anymore. I might be a senior hunter, but I couldn’t justify killing one of the original three, even if she turned my sister. But I can’t pull back. Her grip over my hand is like iron. She’s so close that I can smell her perfume, warm spices, like the heart of a winter midnight and something a little deep, a little exotic, like maybe it’s not from the city.
“Don’t. Get. Any closer. Most vampires this close to me end up dead,” I say with as much confidence as I can muster. But she’s shaken me. The unexpected violence sending me off course.
She smiles and shunts another inch forward. The stake is in right up to the hilt.
What the fuck is wrong with her?
Blood runs quicker down the wood now. It coats both our fingers. It makes my teeth ache with need, my tongue throb with the desperate desire to lap it up.
But I won’t. Not from her. Never from her.
“If you wanted blood, you merely need to ask. I’m sure we can come to an arrangement. I’m always generous to my little blood sluts,” Octavia says, her tongue sliding across her lips.
“Fuck you.” I shunt the stake. I know by the wince on her face I caught something serious. Her fingers grip my fist harder, crushing my bones until I have to grit my teeth to prevent myself from moaning. She bears her fangs at me, a low snarl emanating from her throat. She steps back off the stake and then bends my hand up to my face. The stake, along with her blood oozing down it, is millimetres from my mouth. I press my lips shut. I will not drink, I will not drink.
She narrows her eyes at me. “I thought you wanted to drink? Here, I’m offering you the highest honour in the city. Do you know what people would do to get their hands on a drop of my blood?”
I kick out, my foot crunching into her knee. She startles, loses balance as her kneecap pops out of place. Her grip on me loosens enough that I yank the stake out of her hand as she jerks her leg and her knee corrects itself.
I suppress a gag.
There’s a dancing platform above me. I squat down and leap up, grabbing the pole to stop myself from flying off the other side of the platform.
“Red?” Amelia shouts from another platform across from me. She’s dancing with two guys. My chest spasms. My beautiful baby sister. I can’t stand looking at her, the way she represents everything we’re meant to hate. The betrayal written in her fangs.
The memory of holding her pudgy hand while we stood in front of Mama’s gravestone flashes through my mind.
I am so not ready to talk to her. I shake my head at her. “Not yet,” I shout.
