Page 149 of House of Crimson Kisses
“You don’t get to treat me like meat. You don’t get to take a piece of me and then leave. If you don’t want all of me, then you can’t have any of me.”
She rounds on me.
“Please, don’t,” I beg. “Don’t hurt me.” Those words ring like déjà vu in my mind, only this time, I have the context.
“Hurt you?” she snorts. “You were meant to be different. All because you looked at me, really, truly lookedatme. I’m pathetic. You’re no better than anyone else. You’re never going to see me for who I am. So fine. You don’t need to see me at all.”
The memory plays again, just like before the trial. Octavia grabs me by the scruff of my shirt and wipes the night from my memory.
Only this time, I understand.
She’s never felt like she was enough. Never felt like she was worthy of anything because no one ever loved her unconditionally.
Until me.
Until I fucked it all up.
Until I took the one thing that meant everything to her.
Memory after memory floods my mind and each one gives me another piece of the truth, the full narrative.
The one I should have always had.
But then the memory of the night Amelia was turned filters through my mind. Though this one plays in reverse, taking me back to early that evening.
To an argument between Amelia and me. I don’t remember this.
“Amelia, see reason. I beg you not to go out tonight.”
“Lighten up, Red. You’re always so uptight. It’s a party.”
“I don’t like him. I don’t like his values. You always make bad calls when you’re with him.”
“Well, it’s a good job I’m the one with him then, isn’t it? Besides, if anything goes wrong, you’re not far away. It’s not like you’ve ever let me have a fucking night out by myself, is it? You always come find me at midnight, like the prisoner I am. It’s already eight, how much trouble can I get into in four hours?”
But I’m tired. I’m weary in my bones and in my heart and I can’t take it anymore. I’ve spent years looking after Amelia. I was always the sensible one so she didn’t have to be, and tonight I’m exhausted. I want to be free for one night. Free of the worry.
I sigh. “If you go, I’m not coming after you, Amelia. I mean it. We’re both adults now. You’re the one who begs me to let you live free. So fine. Go. Make your own decisions.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “Yeah, yeah. See you at midnight.”
And with that she skips out of the house, she doesn’t even kiss me goodbye. And I am so fucking tired. I uncork a bottle of whisky and I take it with me in a carriage to find Octavia.
The memory rushes on, we’re in the St Clair territory, in one of her mother’s spare properties. This one happens to be near Dahlia’s mansion. Of course, Octavia paces the cottage, livid that she can hear their antics and the music blaring.
But I decide to take her mind off it.
I distract her the best way I can—with sex and orgasms.
The memory plays on, tugging me closer, closer to the ending I fear is coming. My stomach swills and I’m not sure if it’s the fact I’ve lost too much blood or if it’s the anxiety I hold in the memory.
Octavia gets off the bed and pulls her clothes on, her brow creased.
“What’s wrong?” I say as she rushes to the window and peers at Dahlia’s mansion across the way.
“I… I’m not—” she freezes halfway to pulling on her shirt. “Oh, gods.”
I sit bolt upright, already hauling my clothes on. It’s then I notice the music has stopped. Only, Octavia has superhuman hearing. If there’s no music and she looks this worried, then she can hear something going on.
