Page 47 of House of Crimson Kisses
“Good evening, Lady Beaumont,” Broodmire says.
“Good evening. If anyone asks whether you saw us, you didn’t. You’ve no idea where we’ve gone. Can you do that for us?” I ask.
He inclines his head, so I tickle his chin until his mouth opens and deposit three drops of blood as a thank you.
“Most generous,” he says and settles himself down for a nap.
“Do you know where we’re going?” Xavier says.
I nod. “Edge of the city there’s a safe house. It’s a neutral point between this city and the fae’s. Rhea uses this house in the middle of the forest as a mediation point. Rhea works there most of the time, but even if she’s not in, someone will be. It’s manned twenty-four seven and they’ll be able to reach her.”
“In that case, after you, favourite.”
I glance at my watch. The sun should be setting in thirty seconds. I hesitate and risk leaning out past the porch. The sun is low enough that the last dregs of hot light are dipping below the horizon, and I don’t get anything more than a mild hiss.
“Ready?” I say.
“Born ready, Tave,” Xavier says, and he leans forward, placing one foot in front of the other.
I glance back out, no hiss, no burn. But Xavier is younger than I am, so I wait another minute to be sure. The sky is a glossy mirage of oranges, burnt reds and ochre colours. They’re shifting like molten lava into pinks and purples. It’s the kind of sunset promises are made under and…
“In three,” I say.
Xavier stiffens like he’s going to race me.
“Two.” This time, I bend into a racing start position.
Ahh, sibling rivalry. Adrenaline flutters in my belly. The kind of hot dancing breeze that races across skin and burrows into my bones. The kind of high that tells me he wants to play.
He tilts his head to look at me. “Last one to City Edge Point buys the drinks tonight.” He grins, showing his fangs, and I am so ready to show the little twerp what an extra five hundred years looks like.
“One,” he says. And then he bolts like lightning.
“Mother fucker,” I shriek. But I’m already sprinting to catch him.
I don’t lose.
I haven’t run like this in years. Maybe a decade. The wind whips my hair so hard it leaves little sting marks on my back and spine like needles.
Harder and harder I push my legs. We have miles to run. Though it’s easy enough for us when we have the ability to move so fast, we eat up three miles before I even catch up to him.
But I do… Catch up to him, that is.
And then I kick his leg out from under him and he barks a laugh as he rolls headfirst over and onto a grassy park area.
But I don’t have time to get much of a lead. He’s up and on his feet with his longer legs giving him the advantage that no amount of years or power give me.
It’s an even race, but I am faster.
Just.
We reach City Edge Point neck and neck. I lean forward, pumping my arms harder, faster. We’re both stretching forward, our fingers straining for the lamppost. But I manage to brush the skin of the lamppost a millisecond before he does.
“Fuck,” he says, careening to the ground and rolling to slow himself down. It takes me a second to stop running too.
“Well played, Octavia,” he pants, bending over forward and retching.
I join him and leave a little bit of sick on the pavement.
