Page 133 of House of Crimson Kisses
“Right. Yes. Well,” he waves his hand at me, brushing off the fact I am clearly still fucking Red in front of him.
I lean down and lick her clit; it’s even sweeter now, the arousal of her being so aggressively watched must be pushing her close to orgasm. I lick again. And again.
When I feel her pussy clamp my fingers, I stop.
“Xavier, you were saying?”
I drive a particularly vicious thrust into her pussy, rubbing against her G-spot to see if I can tip her over into bliss in front of Xavier. To see how far her need to be watched really goes.
“Yes, sorry. Rather distracting and all that.” Xavier says. “Anyhoo. Mother has sent word that they’re ready for us in the Blood Woods, so she’s ex?—”
Red moans, her back arching while I pump harder and continue my relentless lapping of her clit. Her pussy is throbbing against my fingers. Her hands scruff the bed sheets. She’s going to blow.
It makes me smirk against her clit.
“Fuck,” Red says. “Oh gods.”
“Mother of Blood,” Xavier exclaims, pulling a hand over his face. “I’m leaving. Please, for the love of gods, put Red out of her misery, get yourselves cleaned up and then get to the carriage. We’ll be w?—”
Red lifts off the bed, her pussy clamping like a vice around my fingers as she comes apart, ejaculating sweet come on my tongue. It’s almost enough to make me come, but I hold on, not wanting to cross that boundary with Xavier in the room.
She lays flat on the bed, panting.
“Well, now that’s done with, do you think you could hurry up?” Xavier says and promptly speeds out of the room.
Chapter39
RED
There is a river of red that flows through the heart of the Blood Woods. I wonder whether it connects to the Lantis Ocean, the crimson colour reminiscent of the glittering rubies on the ocean’s surface. I kneel and run my fingers through the cool ripples, letting it splash up my knuckles. It’s clear when it touches my skin, and I wonder what kind of magical illusion it is that makes the water red in our city.
I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to fight Lincoln or Talulla. Let alone any of the vampires.
Since the riots in the market, and the spirit trial especially, we’re not exactly peaceful, but there is a shared understanding for everything we’ve been through. This trial feels like it’s shoving a blade between all the progress we’ve made.
But worse, given what Amelia has told me, what happens if I accidentally injure one of them or worse, kill them?
Then I transform? Become this thing everyone wants me to be?
What about what I want?
What if I don’t want to step into this role? If I do, would I really be any different from the vampires who took my family? Would I be a monster like them?
I scold myself silently because Octavia is one of those people, and I don’t see her as a monster. Perhaps I could find a way to see myself as something other than a monster?
I shake my head and stand up, brushing the river water off onto my trousers.
It doesn’t matter. I don’t want to become the dhampir because I don’t want to be responsible for that kind of power.
I don’t want to become one of them.
Even if that means sacrificing myself.
I knead my temples, attempting to stave off the headache brewing deep in my skull. This trial, more than any other, has us all rattled. Even Dahlia is behaving oddly. She was playing nice with Octavia as if they hadn’t taken chunks out of each other at the partnering ceremony. Like they haven’t spent centuries hating each other.
The trees rustle in with a nonexistent breeze, and several burnt ochre and red leaves drift to the ground.
I glance up, but there’s nothing there. No person, no animal skittering through the canopy. I frown and turn back to the river, only to leap out of my skin.
