Chapter 27

OCTAVIA

M y mother is a liar.

It becomes a mantra. I cannot say, or do, or think anything else other than my mother is a liar.

Of course, I recognised on a subconscious level that she had done awful things over the years. I am not na?ve. Plus, she told me I was adopted.

But she told me she didn't know who my birth mother was. I lived a thousand years not knowing where I came from or how I came to be. Only that I was. It is the most isolating of experiences to not know why you exist, to not understand why you are the only one of your kind.

And she fucking knew the entire time.

All of us competitors were silent when we finally returned to the chamber after the spirit trial. No one spoke a word as we left the church. Each of us was pale and drawn. My siblings' eyes held a horror that made me shiver every time I looked at them. All of us, save Sadie, looked like ghosts. But then, Sadie was always going to be the most prepared.

The points-awarding ceremony was a muted affair. Red and I were the second out of the trial. We didn't win—predictably, Sadie did. The Mother of Blood gifted her the clue to the boundary. The amulet is to be placed in a lock somewhere on the southern exterior edge of the boundary. But the Mother of Blood also warned her that there would be demonic creatures waiting for us when we crossed the threshold, and fangs may not be enough weaponry. A useful warning if nothing else.

Mother distributed the points. We are in the lead, much to Dahlia's dismay.

The points stand as such:

Red and I are the lead with seven.

Sadie was out first, but she didn't score in the first trial. So, she's in second place with five points.

Dahlia and Lincoln were out third, and got three points, plus her one point from the first trial. Meaning they're on four.

Xavier came out next with Talulla, though she took her time rousing. They scored two plus their one from the map trial, meaning they're on three.

Gabriel came out last, and unfortunately, Keir had to be forcibly withdrawn. Cordelia was all for leaving him under, but the Chief made some vocal threats and Cordelia broke the rules and dragged him out, though none of us are sure exactly what the damage will do to him. Given the awful things we experienced, I imagine he's rather traumatised. They scored five in the first round, though. Technically, they're in joint second.

This, though, gives me no comfort. While we may be in the lead, we should have been considerably further ahead. These trials are tricky affairs and as has been demonstrated already, anything can happen, and everything can change. A two-point lead does not a confident Octavia make.

As we exit the ballroom in Castle St Clair, the blood stones now assigned to their rightful jars, we leave with whispers of discontent at our backs.

The nobles requested Mother stay behind for discussions, and many of the hunter elders also requested the same of the Chief, so they moved to a different room.

None of them looked happy. There were more protests outside the castle during this points ceremony than ever. The city is wavering. It's on the precipice of collapse. My heart sinks. The whole reason I'm in this competition is because I want to change the city. But not like this. I want to make it better, build it up so that I finally feel accepted. But it's not just about me. I don't want anyone else to experience what I have. It's a belief born from the marrow in my bones. This city has to change, and I have to make it a place where anyone on the periphery of our society still feels safe, wanted, and like they belong.

We all walk through these trials with our teeth on edge and our feet on eggshells. All it will take is one pissed-off citizen to lose it, and a lot of people will die.

I don't think we can come back from something like that.

The nine of us contenders stand outside the castle doors, all staring at each other and wearing the same harrowed expressions.

"I could do with a drink," Lincoln says.

"Me too," Red answers, along with a chorus of agreement from everyone.

"Let us drink at the Whisper Club," I say. "My offering to you all after whatever the fuck that trial was."

There's a murmured agreement, and I find myself shocked that not one of my siblings protests.

"Do I detect a moment of peace between us?" I say.

"I think that counts as shared trauma, but if you use it against us, I will knock you out," Dahlia says.

I roll my eyes, but there's a small smirk nipping at the corner of both our mouths. It's these moments that remind me that while we may have originated somewhere else, we are family because we choose to be. We choose to stand beside each other, whether that's bickering and competing, or having each other's backs.

A carriage large enough for us appears, and we all take a seat inside.

It's a strange thing when all of my siblings are together. Especially in the presence and company of others. Usually, we prefer to keep our distance until mother summons us for dinner.

We make it across the city, through the tunnels and to the Whisper Club in good time. There were barely any carriages out this evening. Perhaps because most of them had already done their travel to Mother's castle to deposit half the city's leaders along with protesters outside her castle walls.

At last, the nine of us stand in my bar with much-needed shots being distributed.

"Let's never do that again," Gabriel says and raises his glass. The rest of us follow suit and all down our shots.

Dancers fill the room; the music cranks up and members of the public drift in. The nine of us split up, each of us wandering off to have our own conversations and drown our sorrows in whatever way we need.

I'm sat watching Red dance with Lincoln. They flit from dancing to intense gesturing and conversations. This competition has driven more than a few rifts between people. I sense a presence at my shoulder.

"Dahlia," I say.

"Sister."

"Can I help you?" I ask.

"No. I…" Dahlia starts.

"Spit it out."

"Would you give me a second? Gods. Look. When I was under, I experienced… It was…"

"Your greatest fear?" I ask.

She nods.

"Let me guess, you were weak beyond measure."

"How did you?—"

I prod her muscled biceps. "It doesn't take a genius to know you pride yourself on your strength more than anything else. You're the head of Mother's army, for goodness' sake. You're built like a bison. And you hate people who are weak of mind."

She folds her arms, as if I'm not spouting obvious facts.

"Right. Well. When I was under, I experienced being ousted and condemned for being weak, and it made me think that maybe some of the isolation and hatred you've experienced might be a bit like that. And sure, we don't exactly get on. But you are my sister, and I have defended you where I can. And?—"

"Dahlia."

"Yes?"

"Are you giving me a peace offering? Are you trying to empathise?"

"Fucksake. It wasn't nice. And I guess I'm sorry if you deal with shit like that."

I raise an eyebrow at her. "Gods, that trial really screwed you up."

"Oh, fuck off, Octavia." She whacks me unnecessarily hard on the shoulder and I wince.

"Oww."

"You deserved that," she says.

I laugh because she's right. I made that extra painful for her.

"Does this mean you've seen the light and realised that I'm the best sibling to take over and you're going to stand down?"

She snort-laughs and swigs from her tumbler, which, if I'm not mistaken, has rum and blood with essence of hate in it. Interesting drink of choice.

"Not a fucking chance," she says.

"So this is still war?" I ask.

"Oh, absolutely. When is it not love and war?" She gives me a fang-filled grin.

"Then I guess I'll see you on the battlefield."

"That you will." She holds her glass up to me and we clink. And for the first time in the five hundred years I've known her, she smiles at me. Really, truly smiles. It softens her face, makes her eyes bright and her whole expression light up.

She inclines her head at me, a rare expression of deference I am not used to and then vanishes into the club's gloom. What the hell did she experience in there?

Xavier sidles up next to me. "Favourite."

"Good evening," I say and tilt my head up for him to kiss.

He places a soft peck on my cheekbone and then leans against the same pillar I am.

"You okay?" I ask.

"Not even slightly," he says.

"What happened?"

"You'll laugh."

"Try me," I say.

"Gods, it was awful. I was… The aesthetic healers… you know the ones that can do procedures that aren't really for healing… They couldn't help. I was… I was so…"

Mother of Blood, is he joking? I keep my mouth shut, but my lip is quirking as I try to suppress the urge to laugh.

"I was rotten to the core, Tave. I was ugly on the inside, too. The outside… I wasn't a good vampire."

I have to rub my mouth to wipe the smirk off my lips.

"I told you you'd laugh."

"I'm sorry, I'm being an arsehole. I understand why that would be traumatic for you, and I'm sorry you experienced it."

"I can't shake it. Every time I look in the mirror, it's like I can see the shadow of who I was in there. What the fuck was that trial?"

I take his face in mine. "Xavier, you are beautiful inside and out. You live in a beautiful city, with a beautiful sister and a beautiful home. You're safe now because you're with me. Okay? This is real." I tip his forehead down and kiss his brow.

He physically relaxes under my touch.

"Better?" I ask.

He nods. I didn't compel him, but sometimes the illusion of something is enough for us to believe it. Just like those trials, I suppose.

"What did you find out?" he asks.

I shake my head. I'm not ready to tell anyone that yet. How do I explain I am the daughter of a god? The daughter of the Mother of Blood herself? Or perhaps that's not what she is after all. We mythologised her into a god. She was just another witch trying her best, but because of one curse, she changed the face of our city and the trajectory of her fate.

Our entire city's foundation is based on her myth. What am I supposed to do with that information? I want to fix our city, not break it. If I tell anyone, then the church, our pillars of law, the very fibre of our beliefs, it all goes away.

And Mother, Cordelia, knows that.

She's also the one who killed her, or at least she tried to. Drained her and left her for dead.

Unfortunately for her, the witch-dhampir survived and became the last of the original three. Which begs the question, if she knew I'd survived and Cordelia had taken me, why did she never come for me?

And where the hell is she now? Cordelia says she vanished, lost to history. What if she wasn't? What if the woman who birthed me is still alive?

"Octavia?" Xavier says.

"Huh? What?" I say, springing back to attention. But I notice Red in the middle of the dance floor shaking her ass enough another woman has taken notice.

"Sorry, favourite. Another time. There's a woman about to lose her hand," I say and speed off to the middle of the dance floor right as the woman slides her hand close to Red's arse.

"Touch her and lose your hand."

"I… I… I'm sorry I didn't realise she was spoken for," she says, her hand freezing a millimetre from Red's body.

"Well, now you do." My eyes flick down to her hand, which is yet to move away from what is mine.

She yanks it back and scuttles off to another corner of the room.

"Was that really necessary?" Lincoln says. "We were having a much-needed giggle."

He places his hands out and then folds them over his body, touching one hip then the other, and then does the same movement only on his temples. Then jumps around and does the same sequences of movements.

"What are you… Do you know what? I really don't care. I came to ask for a dance." Red hesitates, but I hold out my hand. She huffs and then reluctantly slides hers into mine.

I sling it over my shoulder and put my hands around her waist. I glance up at the DJ, and the music shifts to a slower beat.

She rests her head on my chest. "I am still annoyed with you."

"I know," I say. "But I wanted to talk about the trial. In there… I'm not sure how to explain it, but I think you saved me."

"Weird," she says, lifting off my chest and frowning at me as we take mini steps side to side in a circle.

"I think the piece of you bonded to me is what pulled me out of there. It's like you were in my head right as I was ready to give up."

"This is too weird," she says.

"Explain."

"I was in the Hunter Academy, and everyone was calling me a traitor. I hated myself, I couldn't save the people I love, and then everyone left turned against me. All because I wasn't strong enough, because I rejected the chance to take power. But right as I was ready to quit, there you were. Whispering everything I needed to hear. Telling me I'd saved you."

She shakes her head like it's a lie.

"But, Verity… You have saved me."

She glances at the floor. "There was something else, too." A furrow forms between her brows. "But I can't quite remember it now. It was something off, something I wanted to ask you. But it's slipped my mind now."

The music shifts to an even slower beat that thumps around the club. A few more dancers join us, swaying and grinding against each other.

"Because you still harbour fury at me for keeping your memories, you might not believe this, but time and time again, you save me. You have saved me. My heart will always be yours."

"What did you learn?" she asks, pushing my hair behind my ear.

"I'll tell you, but not here in the open. It would compromise too much."

She nods, her eyes darting this way and that. "I need to tell you, too. It changes things. Actually, it changes everything. I think I've made a mistake."

"Do you want to leave now?" I ask.

She takes a deep breath but shakes her head. "While we're in here, we're safe. Once I tell you what I learnt, everything will change."

"You have no idea how much I understand," I say, kissing the top of her head. "But for a few short moments, while we hold our secrets, nothing changes…"

She looks up at me from beneath her lashes, her eyes deep and heady, lust swimming under her gaze. And I thank the Mother of Blood that she wants to take a minute to fuck the frustration out before we charge back into this chaos again…

Wait. Thank the Mother of Blood? Oh, fuck me. I cannot be saying that anymore, either. I don't want to think about it, though, so I force myself to focus on Red.

"I want to kiss you, but I don't want you to kiss me back unless you mean it," I say.

She looks away.

"I want to be enough for you, Red. No matter what I've done, what secrets we hold. I want you to love me and for me to be enough."

"Don't you get it?" she snaps. "I do, Octavia, and that's the fucking problem. I loved you and you hurt me."

"Loved. Past tense."

She flings a hand off my shoulder in frustration. "You're infuriating." Then uses her free hand to grab my chin and tilt it down as she rises on tip toes. "You want me to kiss you with everything I feel? Fine."

Her fingers slip down my chin and graze my throat.

She twists until her hand grips my throat and digs in, creating just a little discomfort. Her eyes hold me, waiting. As if she expects me to say stop. But I won't. I want to see where this will go.

I want to feel everything because I need her to dig into our bond and let herself connect to me again. She needs to understand that what I did was for her.

She squeezes and yanks me to her mouth, crushing her lips against me. She moves her mouth over mine in a bruising kiss, her fingers gripping my throat the whole time like I'm hers. Like she's claiming me. She kisses hard and fast, her tongue pushing its way into my mouth.

Her other hand grips my back, her nails stinging just the right amount.

She releases me suddenly and tugs at my shoulders, leaping up into my arms. Her legs wrap around my waist, her hands around my neck. I grip her under her arse and thighs. She tilts her head down and this time when she kisses me, it's so much softer and sweeter.

Her lips are tender, the faintest hint of vodka and lust melded on her tongue. This time, the kiss is slow and deep and full of longing and something a little bitter. Regret? No, it's hurt, and that realisation makes my heart clench.

Her fingers trail my skin, my throat, my back, she's everywhere all at once. And I can't get enough. I want to drink everything she gives me. I want to drown in her. She kisses me like she owns me; she kisses me like I am a dream she's prayed for and not the nightmare I've been.

She kisses me like she loves me.

She steals my breath, my mind, and my heart. Everything disappears into the heat and electricity of our touch. This is a kiss like no other.

She pulls off my mouth and holds my gaze, frowning. Her thumb brushes against my cheek, wiping something wet away.

"You're crying," she says. Her words are soft under the beat of the music.

"I wasn't."

"Octavia," she growls.

"You have no idea how much I love you, Verity. That is all, and for the first time in a long time, I really felt like you loved me, too. That kiss… it was everything."

She smiles at me and inches closer, brushing her lips over mine. We share the same air, the same space, the same bond.

"Sometimes a kiss can ruin everything… And sometimes it can save it," she says.

"Are you telling me you're my knight in shining armour? Come to save me from the big, bad villain?" I smile.

She huffs, "I thought you were my villain. I'm certainly not a hero."

"What if you were meant to be?"

But she pouts and refuses to answer, so I pop her down on her feet, a grin spreading across my lips. "I have an idea."

"Okay…" she says.

I take her by the hand and guide her to a corner of the club on a raised platform. Rouge fabric covers the entire area. On the outside of the circular area, there is a black leather booth seat curved around the wall. In the middle is a table. But that table doesn't always live there. And tonight, it's going away.

I hit a button that is flat to the surface of the wall, hidden so idiots or drunk club goers don't touch it accidentally.

The floor rumbles, and the table drops into an underground hole. Then I press the button above and the ceiling opens, an iron-barred cage dropping into the place of the table.

"Oh, my god," she says as it settles into place.

Dangling from the top of the cage are handcuffs and attached to the bottom of the bars are ankle cuffs.

"There's lots of people in here, Red," I purr.

She's already bouncing on her toes. "We could give them quite a show," she says, and she's practically vibrating with excitement.

I beckon a club server with a nod and whisper a request to him. He returns the nod and vanishes.

"Get in the cage," I say.

Her eyes widen, but she does as she's told, opening the iron bars and slipping inside.

I enter with her.

"What's your safe word?" I ask.

"Elysium," she says.

"And mine is villain. Now… Strip."

Her breath shortens as she obediently nods and takes off her boots, followed by unbuttoning her trousers and then her top until she's left standing in her underwear. I've already stripped out of my clothes, too.

"I've been thinking about how I can prove to you that I'm sorry."

"Oh? And what did you have in mind?" she asks, running a hand over her extremely muscled abs.

"I have taken something that's yours. Would you like everyone to have a piece of what's mine?" I ask.

Her eyes sparkle, a slow smirk crossing her lips.

"I'll take that as a yes. Now, be a good little blood slut and kneel for me."

Her mouth opens, a soft breath escaping. Her expression changes, heat flooding her face as she assumes the Nadu position, kneeling on her calves, her head lowered and her palms face-up on her knees.

I slice my underwear off, letting it fall to the ground. My skin prickles, confirming that we've already attracted an audience, just as I'd hoped.

My member of staff should be back any moment with the toys I requested.

In the meantime, I grab Red's hair and tilt her head until she's looking up at me.

"You're going to lick my clit until I come on your face. Do you understand?"

She nods, but winces as her hair tugs against the grip I've got on her. "Make it a good one, put on a show for everyone watching, and I'll reward you after."

"Yes, Octavia."

I thrust her head at my cunt. And her hands come up to grab my thighs as I open my legs to let her tongue slide between my folds.

I inch my feet apart a little further as several shadows flicker across the curved wall. More voyeurs. Excellent.

I rock her head, tilting her and my hips until her tongue is right where I want it on my clit.

She moans sounds of pleasure as she laps hungrily at my pussy, her saliva and my excitement soaking her chin and cheeks. But she doesn't care and laps harder and faster.

She releases one of my legs and slides a finger between my thighs and to my entrance, shoving inside me.

I moan, my head tipping back as I thrust against her face. Ramming my cunt into her mouth and forcing her fingers deeper.

"Fuck, Red, harder." I say as I grind myself against her wet mouth.

I rock my hips. She curls her fingers, stroking the sweetest spot, and then I come with the insistent flicking and furling of her tongue on my pussy.

It peels all the way around my body. I shiver as the orgasm rips from my toes to my scalp. I step back as she pulls her fingers out and discover we've attracted quite the audience.

"My, my, that was quite the orgasm," I say.

She grins at me.

"Well, good little blood sluts always get rewarded. Stand up."

She does. "Now lock me in place," I demand.

She locks my ankles into the straps. Then she tugs my arms up and locks those into the cuffs hanging from the top of the cage.

I'm splayed like a starfish.

She steps aside, revealing the audience we've attracted and gasps. I adjust my legs, making the chains rattle.

"Is this okay?" she says.

"Let's call it punishment… you could do anything right now… Make me watch while you pleasure yourself in front of all these people. Let these people have a piece of what is mine."

The words sting as I say them, but this is what I need to do. She needs to understand that I have always been on her team. And if punishing me a little helps her forgive me, then so be it.

Her hands twitch, and I can tell it's not from nerves or anxiety, but excitement. The server I sent off appears with a tray of toys. He stands at the corner of the cage like I told him to.

I gesture as much as I'm able to the crowd. "Red, here, is giving you the pleasure of her orgasm. I think it's only fair you get to pick how she receives that pleasure."

Red's mouth drops open. Her chest rises and falls, her nipples already peaked with excitement.

The crowd around the cage murmurs, but no one steps forward. Red's face falls, and I swear I'm ready to rip the cage bars open and drain them all. They're all too nervous to hand her anything with me watching. This is a me problem and not a her problem.

I take a deep breath and decide to push the rage and rejection aside and ask humbly for what I want. "Please… as visitors of my club, will you do me the honour of playing my game tonight?"

There are a few surreptitious glances shared, but finally, a woman who must be in her late twenties and is practically drooling over Red's body, picks up a feather and hands it to her through the bars. Her fingers skim Red's hand. It takes every ounce of my strength not to rip the cuffs off and bite her hand off. But I promised to do this. This is my punishment.

"Thank you," I say, and I find myself smiling at her. To my surprise, the woman offers me a quick glance. It's barely eye contact, but the moment she catches my eyes warmth radiates over me. She inclines her head and I really, truly smile. It's not much. But it's not nothing either.

I lower my head back at her, sharing the deference, and she steps back into the crowd as Red switches the feather to her other hand and swipes it over my nipples and then down her own body.

I shiver. It makes Red grin. "I think I'm going to enjoy this," she says, cracking her neck.

She runs the feather over the bars, teasing and tempting the crowd. Then she drags it from my neck to my pussy and between my thighs and then mimics the same movements on herself.

I shut my eyes when a man, encouraged by the woman holding his hand, slides a vibrator through the bars to Red. I take a deep breath. When I open them, Red is accepting it and says, "Thank you."

I also incline my head at him. He holds my gaze a fleeting moment longer than the first woman and dips his head at me. His partner unfortunately does not. But two out of three isn't bad.

He turns to leave, but Red says, "Wait. Don't leave. I want your partner to tell me what to do."

My eyes widen.

Red switches the vibrator on and runs it over her nipples and between her legs. Then she slides to the floor.

"Touch yourself," the woman says.

My nostrils flare as Red does as she's told. My whole body is on alert, tense and tight, but this is what I asked for. It's what I wanted.

"Use your pussy to wet your fingers," the woman outside the cage says.

My teeth clench, but Red's cheeks are pink. Her body is flooded with a heat I can sense from here. And I understand, as wetness slips between my thighs, that even though every cell in my body burns with jealousy, the sight of her glistening pussy and the scent of her arousal are enough to drive me wild. I tug at the chains, testing how much brute force it would take to rip them off.

"What should I do now?" Red asks, her eyes on the woman.

"Fuck yourself with it. Rub your clit all while watching Octavia."

Red's mouth parts, her breathing heavy and fast. She slides the vibrator into her pussy, drawing it in and out. I yank on the chains. I want to touch her. Taste the sweetness of her pussy.

When the first moan slips from her lips, I find my hands suddenly at my sides. I've pulled the metal cuffs off the bar. They should have been silver.

Red's eyes slip shut. She leans her head against the bars, her hips rocking back and forth, where she masturbates in front of me. The woman outside the cage watches with delight. Her partner slips his hands beneath her clothes. One to massage her nipples, the other between her legs.

I'm done. I need to touch Red. The chains break easier than I expected. I snap the remaining two, pick up a strap-on from the bag the server brought us and slide into it. I yank Red up by the arm and turn her around. She drops the vibrator. I clasp her hands around the bars.

"Hold on tight."

And then I slide her hands a little lower, so she's bent over. I notch the dildo at her entrance, and I push inside. She arches up in surprise.

But I push her head back down and thrust. I pump into her hard. Driving and pumping until her knuckles are white on the bars.

"Octavia," she pants. "Fuck."

I slide my hand around her front and find her clit.

"You're mine, Red. Mine to do with as I please. Mine to fuck. Mine to love. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she screams as I pinch her clit, applying a little pressure.

"Oh gods, I'm going to come."

"Look at your audience first," I demand.

And she does. The woman who gave her instructions is flushed as pink as Red is. She sucks her bottom lip in as her partner's hand moves faster, stroking her pussy at a feverish pace. She's going to come too.

"Octavia, please," Red begs.

"Anything, for you." I pump harder. It's no longer sex, it's fucking. Deep and raw. I fuck her hard enough that she shrieks, her hands slip further down the bars and her arse pushes against me. But I am nothing if not relentless, so I keep rubbing her clit, varying the pace, driving her wild.

"Oh my gods, I'm going to… fuck. Octavia…" she screams and shivers against me as she spills into an orgasm. She stays bent, panting, and finally, when she pulls off the cock, she turns around and grips my chin.

Her eyes hold mine. "Beautiful," she breathes. "Like old roses and burning sunsets. Likewise, autumn leaves and the sweetest blood I've ever tasted."

And then she pulls me down and presses her lips to mine in a kiss that makes the world vanish.

It is soft like silken summer petals, warm like the roar of a winter fire, and so deep I know that it touches both of our souls.