Chapter 20

RED

T he whole carriage ride back to Octavia's mansion, I second guess everything. It's in part the time and space to think and partly because I am famished. I need to drink. I should probably eat human food, too. But I am consumed by the need to drink.

The carriage rocks me side to side as the horses clip-clop under the city and I fight wave after wave of exhaustion. My head told me to tell her. She's the Chief. What else could she want other than to protect me? Regardless of the fact Cordelia has cornered her into retiring, she wants the best for us hunters.

"I'm the dhampir, Chief," I said, and her mouth fell open. I swore for a brief second, as her eyes drooped, there was a flash of sadness. But then her expression hardened, and she grabbed me by the shoulders.

"Listen to me. We have to keep this secret, okay?"

I nod and she continued.

"You can't tell anyone. Especially none of the vampires."

"But, Octavia?—"

"Especially not her. This is between you and me. We have to do everything we can to protect you. There will be vampires and hunters alike from both sides of the political divide over the cure coming for you, and I want you kept safe. What you're going to do… bringing back magic… it's a gift, Red. You are going to change the face of our city, and I want nothing getting in the way of that."

Her tone was so serious. Her eyes bored into me; her nails dug into my arms as she spoke.

"Okay. I get it," I said.

"So we're agreed? We're keeping this just between you and me? Our little secret? I'll send additional security for you."

"No. You can't. Not if you want to keep it a secret. It would be too obvious that it was me. And even if you sent it to all the hunters at this stage, it would be suspicious. The best thing to do is to continue pretending we don't know who it is."

She released me, folded her arms and pressed her lips shut as she thought.

"Okay," she nodded. "I agree. Oh, Red. I am so proud of you. I'm just sorry you had to be the one to take on the burden."

The horses whinny outside the carriage, and it pulls me out of my reverie. A shiver of hunger crawls over my skin, making my stomach turn. I wipe my hands over my face, forcing myself to concentrate.

It was odd telling her. I thought I'd feel a weight lift off my shoulders, but instead, I came away with a worm in my gut. Something I can't place my finger on. She was polite, outwardly supportive. And yet… and yet… something.

I'm still thinking about it as the carriage comes to a halt. The sun has gifted its last liquid rays to the horizon as my hand presses a drop of blood over the gargoyle's tongue and the door swings open for me.

I slide inside, grateful I made it before anyone was awake. First job is to find Octavia or a vial of her blood. I can't wait much longer. I'm already dizzy.

I meander through the corridors, my skin prickling like I'm being watched. The atmosphere is odd, sharp and cold all at once.

I veer down a main hallway as a breeze rushes past me and makes me blink. As my eyes open, Octavia is in front of me, staring at me in a way that makes me shiver. I bite down the shocked scream and take a step back.

"Oct—"

"Where have you been?" she cuts me off.

"Don't be rude. I was out."

Her eyes narrow to vicious little slits. "Where?"

I thrust a hand on my hip and glare up at her. "You don't own me, Octavia."

"Is that so?" There's a snarl under her words as she grabs for my wrist and hauls me down the rest of the corridor and into the empty bar.

"Oi, let go of me," I say, staggering after her. "And I'm hungry. Where are the vials you store of your blood?"

"We don't keep secrets from each other," she snaps.

"I think you'll find we do," I say back, putting as much snark and brat into my tone as I can.

She shoves me against the side of the bar and snarls. "Don't. Test. Me."

"Or what?"

She picks me up by the arse and shoves me atop the bar so my legs are dangling over the end, and then she pushes me until I lay flat on it. This could work. Sex could definitely work. If I wind her up enough, it'll be a distraction.

"Or you get punished. Now. Where were you?"

She slices her wrist and lets a few drops dribble onto my lips. I lick them up, swiping my tongue this way and that. I reach up to grab her wrist, but she pulls away.

"I asked a question."

Bitch. How dare she tease me when I'm this hungry.

"I was with your mum," I say, and cackle. There's nothing like a mum joke.

She doesn't laugh. She lashes out, snatching the lime cutting knife from under the bar and slicing my crotch.

"Dammit, Octavia, I barely have any trousers left."

But she ignores me, shreds my underwear, taking her time to cut and dice my trousers until they're barely hanging on, then pushes my legs apart.

"I'm going to ask you one more time. Where. Were. You?"

Do I really want to do this? Keep secrets from Octavia? It's like I'm playing everyone on every side of this game. But Octavia would lose her shit if she found out, and the Chief did ask me to keep it secret. Besides, ultimately, that is what I'm here for. To spy on the vampires and find strategic leverage to put us in a better position. If Octavia is going to keep secrets from me, secrets that don't even belong to her, then I'm going to play her at her own game. And sex is the ultimate game.

"I told you. I was playing with your mum's p?—"

Octavia's hand shoots out and slaps my cunt.

I squeal, swinging my legs shut. But her hands are already there, shoving them back open.

"Octavia," I pant.

"If you weren't behaving like a brat, I wouldn't have to do this. It's for your own good. Are you going to answer the question?"

My nostrils flare as I inhale a deep breath. "N?—"

She slaps my pussy again. This time I moan. It's deep and carnal to match the flogger-like sting against my clit, right on the line of pain and pleasure. My legs want to close, but I push them wider, giving her access.

"Fine, I wasn't with your mum. I was riding Xavier's c—" I laugh.

Her face flashes pink, a tremor jumps in her eye, and it earns me two slaps. When her hand pulls away the second time, she takes some of my glistening excitement with her.

She stares at it for a moment before looking at me. "I can see this punishment isn't working. Too much of a dirty little whore, aren't you, Red? Do you like it when I slap that filthy cunt of yours?"

"Fuck, yes, I do. You keep talking like that and I might tell you what you want."

She growls at me. Grabs my hips and yanks me down the bar until my arse is right on the lip edge. She bends to my pussy and bares her teeth at me. I hesitate and suck in a breath. She wouldn't actually hurt me, would she?

She plunges her mouth down on my clit, sucking it between her teeth. I gasp at the sudden pressure, the sharp graze of her teeth against my most sensitive nub. She keeps it between her teeth, barely grazing the flesh. I pant, adrenaline coursing through me. I hitch up to look her in the eye.

Her tongue licks against my swelling clit. I melt. Her teeth sink a little harder into my flesh. I hiss, but she resumes stroking my clit with her tongue. There's a strange pressure, a pooling, like she's drawing blood into my clit, but the pressure of her teeth holds it at bay. And then I remember she can control her blood, even if it's in my system.

Oh, she is playing games.

"Fuck," I cry out as her teeth bite down a little harder, her lips suck my clit a little more, and her tongue moves at a pace that has me moaning and my head dropping back.

Finally, she releases my clit, and the blood flows straight into it. I swear she draws more into my clit to make it a little extra sensitive. The sensation is a head rush, but it stays isolated in my cunt. I'm dizzy and panting and twitching as bolts of pleasure radiate out.

"Look how wet you are for me," she purrs. "Slaps hurt more when the skin is wet."

She says it like the threat it is. But I was never one to back down, especially not when in brat mode.

"This is your last chance, Red. Tell me where you were or I'm going to fuck you until you're a sopping mess and begging me to stop making you come."

Not the worst kind of punishment I've ever received.

I sigh, all dramatic. "Fine. You win. I went to the Whisper Club and fucked myself silly in front of the day drinkers."

The slap that lands on my pussy this time almost has me tipping over into orgasm. My clit is hypersensitive after what she did. The sting pulses out and down my legs.

Octavia leans in and slides her tongue right down the centre of my pussy, lapping up every drop of wetness I have. I buck on the bar. Electric pleasure throbs through me. I'm close. I'm gagging for her to tip me over.

She stops suddenly. It's such a violent halt that my orgasm dies instantly.

"What the fuck?" I whine.

"Oh, I see. You'd like that, wouldn't you? My filthy little blood slut would take all the orgasms she could get. Even if that means being fucked into a sopping mess. Hmm. Perhaps I'll spend all night denying you, then. Yes. I think that seems like a far more fitting punishment."

Ahh, fuckity fuck fuck. She is serious. This is going to be much less fun.

She picks up the knife and slices up my top. But I put my hand on hers before she can ruin yet another sports bra. These things are expensive. I yank it off and lay back on the bar, naked.

"Wendell," Octavia calls.

"What the fu—" I shout, but Octavia shoves two fingers inside me, promptly shutting me up.

She glides in and out, her thumb skimming over my swollen clit. Then the bar door creaks open, Wendell's nose pokes inside, but he's careful not to enter.

My entire body sets alight. If he inched the door open, even a millimetre more, he would see everything. Witness her finger fucking me. The thought makes me so slick that I am certain Wendell can hear Octavia's fingers gliding in and out of me.

"Could you grab me the black bag at the entrance of my private sex room, please?"

"Certainly, Lady Beaumont." He disappears and Octavia bends and licks my sensitive clit. I jerk against her, but she just continues her relentless pumping inside me.

"Safe word," she trills.

"Elysium."

Wendell returns and drops the bag inside the door and then it clicks shut. She speeds over to collect it and returns to me.

Her hands dive into the bag and pull out cuffs. She leaps up, cuffing my hands to the beer optics.

"Erm…" I say.

"Something you wish to say?"

"Well—"

"Unless it's where you were, or your safe word, I'm not interested."

Next, she pulls out a length of rope and loops it around my thigh and shin, and tugs until my calf hits my hamstring. She knots and ties my other leg with another loop of rope. I am completely at her mercy.

Next, she reaches in and pulls out two devices, a plug and a vibe. This is where I realise I made a mistake. I should have just made up a lie. Told her whatever I could to get her off my back. She pulls out a bottle of lube and dribbles some on the plug.

"Have you ever had anything here?" she says, placing the cool pad of her finger against my arsehole.

I gasp and jerk, but the cuffs clatter and jar against my wrist, reminding me I'm restrained in place.

I shake my head.

"Even better." She leans down and licks from my pussy, past my centre and over my arsehole. I squeal, the sensation utterly alien. It feels illicit, taboo. Her tongue swirls over my hole and I buck and writhe against her.

"Gods," I breathe.

She lifts up, replacing her tongue with something hard and wet.

"Are you ready?"

I nod, and she applies a little pressure. "Fuck," I moan.

She pulls back and pushes again. "Relax, Red. What happened to my filthy whore? Tell me you want it…"

"I want it," I say and arch up, adding a little pressure to the plug. It slips a little further inside. Then she pulls it out.

"Tell me how much you want it," Octavia says.

"I want it. Please. I want you to use me like I'm your little fuck toy."

That makes her smile.

"That's right, Red. I'm going to fill all of your holes, and then I'm going to ride your face and make you swallow all my come. Because that's what blood sluts that keep secrets are good for."

She pushes the plug in harder this time. There's a moment of resistance and then the strangest sensation as I draw it inside. It feels divine, filthy, wrong. It tingles, I'm too aware of its presence.

She walks around the bar, pours herself a Sangui Cupa, then she returns and pulls a strap-on out along with a harness. She undresses, her pierced nipples already erect as she pulls her bra off. Her legs slide into the harness and after she's done strapping in, she takes a swig from the tumbler.

Then she leans over and pours the rest over my cunt. I gasp as the cold liquid slips over my folds and dribbles around the plug. She lunges for me, lapping the drink up instead of lapping at me. It drives me wild, her tongue always skirting around my clit but never quite touching it.

"Octavia," I scream, "Please."

"Do you want to tell me where you were today?"

"NO," I cry.

"Then I think I'll continue as I am." She resumes lapping, though this time every third or fourth lick strokes the edge of my clit. Her fingers find my core, teasing the entrance. A bead of sweat forms on my brow. I'm still hungry, desperate for more blood. Desperate to come. But she gives me neither.

She slides her fingers inside my pussy, thrusting hard and deep. Her mouth descends to my clit, and fuck, I'm so sensitive. Every lick and thrust sends pulses of pleasure radiating around my body. I buck against the wrist cuffs, but all it does is make noise. I'm going nowhere. My legs heat where the ropes bind me.

My pussy tightens. Her knuckles knock against the plug in my arse and with every brush and movement, I'm certain I'm going to explode. My nipples are on fire, my skin alive with tingles and sensations. I float to the precipice of orgasm. Just need one. More. Lick.

She removes her mouth.

I scream in frustration. My cunt instantly cooling where before it was throbbing with delicious heat.

"Fuck YOU," I cry.

Octavia grins. It's wild, like midnight storms. She's getting high off of the control. Her tongue swipes around her fangs. She pulls a chair across and kneels on it, aligning the strap-on with my core. She notches the dildo at my entrance and teases my wet hole.

I bounce my back on the bar, desperate. For anything. Ready to beg. To get on my knees, to confess. But she doesn't give me a chance. She thrusts the cock into me. Over and over, she drives the cock into me. My tits bounce and rock with the movement until Octavia leans down and pinches one.

"Fuck," I moan as a climax rises again. As soon as she senses I'm close, she pulls out.

"Please, Octavia. I can't take it anymore."

She picks up the same knife she used to slice my clothes and cuts me out of the rope binding my legs. But she doesn't release my hands. Instead, she removes the strap-on and digs a different one out of the bag. This has little ears that, as she slides the shaft inside me, tickles my clit. She hits some buttons, and it bursts to life, sending waves of pleasure through my entire pussy.

"Octavia," I scream.

But she ignores me, instead climbing onto the bar herself and kneeling either side of my cheeks. She lowers her pussy to my mouth. No instruction needed. I ravage her because I am starved. The need for blood is incomprehensible. She rubs her pussy over my mouth, grinding my head into the bar. Her fingers thread through my hair, gripping and tugging as she rams herself into me.

Her moans fill the bar. She's getting off on riding me, and by the way my cunt is clenching around this vibrator, so am I.

Finally, she inches up and I gasp for air. "Do you like being used as my personal fuck toy?"

"Yes. But if you don't feed me your blood soon, I'm going to pass out and then your little fuck toy won't be awake to play."

"So drink," she says and unclasps the handcuffs at last. I rub my wrists as she flips herself over. She yanks the vibrator out of me, letting it clatter to the floor. Then she presses her body against me and sinks her fangs into my groin.

A blinding white light flashes across my vision. When it clears, the pulling of hot threads of blood leaving my body rush through me. Octavia slides her fingers into my pussy, she's gentle at first, then as the fervour of her drinking increases, her fingers pump harder.

Oh, fuck me. Every inch, every cell of my body is vibrating with an explosive tingle.

She rocks back, lowering her cunt to my face. I lap at her pussy, feasting on her, drawing long, slow licks. But she bites down harder on my groin, and something in me snaps. Manoeuvring myself to free an arm, I push her legs apart. I thrust a finger inside her, draw my tongue over her arse the same way she did to me and then sink my teeth into her cheek.

There's a momentary pause, where she stops drinking from me to moan. And then she's sucking at my leg and driving her fingers inside me. And I am doing the same to her. Blood leaks from my mouth, covering my neck.

Just like on the rooftop, my world blurs. Bright colours and absolute darkness. My senses erupt into a thousand teeming sensations. Both of us moan, our mouths full of blood, our fingers covered in juices. We feed off each other like animals. I lift off, bite again, and again.

I cover her.

Mark her.

She does the same to me. Punctures my thighs over and over. The air stinks of the sweet alcoholic scent of Sangui Cupa. We're drunk off each other. Drugged and high on pleasure and liquid claret. My soul swells, my vision frays.

"I'm going to come," I moan into her arse cheek. She bites down hard, drawing a long mouthful of blood, and I explode. Stars splatter across my vision. I swear my heart stops beating. My pussy clenches, my muscles tensing. And that is what makes her spill over. She clamps down on me, a rushing liquid soaks my hand. I pull out, moving myself over her pussy and drink down whatever she gives me. Her come mixes with her blood in my mouth, and I think I must be dead because nothing should taste this exquisite.

The pair of us lie there, our pussies pulsing and relaxing as the aftershocks hit us. Slowly, we both remove our fingers and fangs, and she rolls off me.

I sit up, aching, sore, but utterly satiated.

I glance at Octavia and have to stifle a smirk. "Do I look as bad as you?" I point at her, and she nods.

"Gods, you look like you were in a fight."

Blood smears cover her face, and her hair is ridiculous. I glance down. I am covered in come, vampire whisky and a lot of blood. My thighs, while no longer cut, still bear her mouth markings.

"And you look like you've been royally fucked. But then, that's what you get for being a brat."

She holds her hand out to me, and we race through the mansion, stark bollock naked, giggling like teenagers.