Page 82 of House of Crimson Hearts
“How can you use magic for painting?” Octavia asks.
I give her a devious grin, “She could forge, make copies of anything with a bead of blood mixed in the paint, and she taught me how to do it too. It sort of became our family trick. I don’t have any other magic though, unlike her. She could do a small handful of things.”
“That’s still more than most people have,” Octavia says.
I shrug. “It’s something a little different, I guess.”
“I should like to see your work sometime. Do you only forge or do you paint your own stuff too?”
“A little of both, but honestly, they’re not worth seeing.”
“All art is worth viewing, Red. It’s the most beautiful gift a creator can give to the world. It’s a little piece of their soul wrapped in the work.”
I pull up, staring at her. Such words… I find myself swallowing, my eyes stinging a little. I don’t think anyone has ever made me feel like my work is special or meant for something, and yet here she is casually throwing out compliments like they’re true.
I hand the market seller the correct coin for my purchases and follow after her.
“We’ll see,” I say, my skin heating at the prospect.
“I need to discuss a matter with you,” she says, her expression suddenly serious.
“Okaaay?” I say, drawing out the syllables with the snarkiest suspicion I can muster.
“You’re moving in with me.”
“I beg your pardon?” I say, halting where I am.
“I said, you’re moving in with me.”
“I’ll do no such thing.”
“You will, Verity, and you’ll be okay with it.”
That makes my blood positively boil. Who the hell is she, dictating to me what I can and can’t do, let alone where the hell I’m living.
“It’s not permanent. It’s for the purposes of these trials,” she says, her voice so calm like this is trivial. Like it’s nothing but a simple conversation.
“I don’t think you’re hearing me. NO. Are you out of your fucking mind? And would you stop fucking calling me that,” I snap and start power marching through the market, not giving a shit if she’s keeping up.
Which, obviously she does, because vampire speed. So I start talking, knowing damn well she can hear me from behind.
“The fact I drank enough of your blood you could track me for a while was enough of an issue, I’m not living under your roof. You are a threat to me and always will be.”
She grabs my hand pulling me to a stop again. She makes me face her, her fingers finding my chin and tilting me up to meet her gaze. Her crimson eyes deepen to a delicious maroon that makes me want to lean up and kiss her lids. What the fuck is wrong with me? She’s pissing me off and suddenly I want to kiss her eyeballs? Gods, I need help.
My heart thuds against my ribs in my chest, my breathing ragged. And where her fingers graze my chin, my skin is alive, tingling. I wonder if it’s some kind of vampire compulsion. Whether I should shut my eyes so she can’t convince me.
“I will never. EVER. Be a threat to you,” she says.
“You took my sister. Your kind took my father. My mother. Your kind will always be a threat. Whether it’s you or someone else. I will never trust you, Octavia. I am not moving in with you.”
“You are.”
“You’re not listening. I said no.”
Her lip curls, and I’m not sure if she’s going to kiss me, growl at me or bite me. Heat fills the space between us, and my body urges me to close the gap. Memories of the overpowering need to fuck her from earlier fill me and my body responds. Every time she’s close. The danger of her. The threat. Instead of setting my hunter skills on fire, it setsmeon fire. I don’t understand her. The effect she has on me.
“What are you going to do? Compel me? Force me?”
