Page 12 of Crimson Devotion
It’s blood.
“You let me run away.’’
“Run off,’’ she corrects. “I did not let you run away, because you’re still on the premises, aren’t you?”
My teeth clatter together when I clench them, the force of it creating an irritating sound. Ophelia merely lifts an eyebrow, that same amused smirk tugged on the corner of her lips.
“Why?” The question slips from my lips, coming out as a demand.
Ophelia steps closer to me, swirling the blood in her glass, then takes a sip of it. Her long, slender fingers curl around the stem, and even that act is as elegant as can be. Her throat bobs when she swallows, and my eyes stay glued to the movement.
“Because it’s fun.’’ She chuckles, looking at me over the rim of the glass. “You’re adorable, Faith. You think you can escape me,and that’s the highest form of entertainment I could’ve asked for. Let me make one thing straight, little hunter.’’
The silence doesn’t last long. The glass shatters next to her feet when she drops it, the remaining blood pooling next to her feet. In an instant, her hand is wrapped around my throat, my back slammed against the pillar behind me.
I bite the inside of my cheek to prevent a cry of pain from coming out, the sound of my back cracking echoing around us. Her face is dangerously close to mine, and I have to blink a couple of times to remove the haze from my vision. The bitch knocked me against the stone with more force than needed, as if she wanted to prove the point of being stronger.
I gasp for air pathetically, her fingers tightening the grip around my throat. Wrapping my hand around her wrist, my nails dig into her flesh, but she doesn’t even flinch. Her upper lip quirks up, annoying me further.
“Let me go,’’ I hiss, my voice breaking. My confidence is long gone, though I pretend it’s still there. Ophelia sees right through the facade, shaking her head with something I can only describe as dark amusement.
“No, I don’t think I will,’’ she murmurs, her voice saccharine. Her warm breath fans my lips, and I freeze, unable to move. My hand drops from her wrist, eyes glued on her bloody red ones. She inches forward, taking a big intake of breath from the crook of my neck.
“What are you doing?” I whisper, tone filled with uncertainty, a doubt that I cannot quite place. My heart starts beating faster, and I’m sure she can hear it. But it’s not quite fear — it’s something deeper, more sinister than mere terror.
“You smell sinful, little hunter,’’ she croons felicitously, her tongue darting to flick over my skin. Heat pools in the pit of my stomach, and if I looked hard enough, I’d probably be able to see the outline of my heart against my chest, from the way it’s beatingfuriously.
“Ophelia,’’ I warn, though it falls flat. She releases something between a hiss and a moan, my eyes widening slightly. Her hand’s still holding my throat in a vise grip, but her hand starts shaking, and I don’t know how to react. It’s the perfect opportunity lift my knee up and hit her. It might not cause any damage, but it should be enough to knock her off balance for long enough for me to remove the hand on my throat.
Yet, I can’t bring myself to do it.
“The way you say my name so sweetly, so sinisterly alluring, makes it hard to control myself around you, little hunter.’’
Shivers run down my spine, my head falling against the wall behind me. Ophelia’s free hand comes to brush a strand of my hair that falls on the crook of my neck, brushing it backward.
“Ophelia—’’
Words get cut off my tongue when I feel a sharp pain piercing through the sensitive flesh on the crook of my neck. A gut-wrenching scream falls from my ears, the pain causing my body to recoil. My vision gets blurry, and in all my years as a hunter, I’ve never felt pain so strong, so vicious, yet so tragically addictive.
Her canine teeth slice through my flesh, deep enough to leave a lasting scar, her tongue trying to soothe the aching skin around it. It doesn’t help — the pain becomes too much for me to bear.
My body is shaking, tears are streaming down my cheeks, falling onto her hand that’s wrapped tightly around my throat. The sensation of Ophelia sucking the blood out of my body leaves me feeling dizzy, my body barely withstanding the intensity of the act.
Just when I think it can’t get any worse — it does.
My screams are muffled by something much more prominent, more aching. My head throbs, and my vision spins. A wail comes from the depths of my throat, hoarse and raw, almost vulnerable.
The inside of my body starts hurting in ways I never thought possible, and I can feel every fucking organ trying to fight it, to withstand the torture forced upon me.
Even in the state of delirium, the pain doesn’t cloud my judgement too much. Well, at least enough for me to realize that Ophelia isn’t just sucking my blood — she’s inserting her venom, too.
It lasts for what feels like an eternity, my body getting numb. Throat dry and chest tight, my eyes sting from the combination of tears, and the harsh wind that blows straight into my face.
It’s getting increasingly difficult to breathe, and I’m powerless against Ophelia’s viciousness. It’s starting to swallow me whole, dark dots appearing in my vision. I pant, short, ragged breaths managing to slip through. My body’s not quite ready to give up fighting, although I’m getting increasingly close to it.
Then, it’s as if lightness peeks through the dark clouds, forcing its way in. Ophelia’s teeth leave me, and she takes several steps backward, stumbling a little. My blood drips from her chin, her lips coated in the crimson liquid.
I slump down to my knees, hand immediately flying to the wound on my neck. When I feel the two holes, I shiver, gathering any remaining strength I have left to lift my head up and look at her.
