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“Because you are talking about our wife,” Dorian says, making him eye the three of us more closely. “We may share with each other, but no one else.”
“Is that so?” he says, rubbing his beard, raising an eyebrow.
“Fucking try taking her and see what happens,” Bastian snarls, flattening his hand on my stomach, resting his chin on my shoulder, biting my neck until a small groan escapes me. “Noone else has survived thus far. Do you really think you’ll be the exception?”
He says nothing for a few seconds, simply staring in silence before slowly walking into my space, towering over me. He grasps my chin quickly, pinching it between his fingers in a punishing grip, making me hiss as he tilts my head up. Dorian and Bastian snarl, but I squeeze their hands, digging my nails in to stop them from doing anything that will get us killed.
“Is this how you want to play it, Octavia? Are you happy to hide behind your brothers instead of doing what the bloodline demands of you? WhatIdemand of you?”
I hold his stare, refusing to cower. I just murdered my own father, stabbed him until I could no longer raise the knife. I will not run away scared now.
“You heard my husbands: try taking me,” I whisper. “I dare you.”
The seconds tick on slowly as he decides what to do, and I don’t think I breathe the entire time. He finally lets go of my chin, taking a step back, gazing at the three of us in disgust.
“I will not stand here and have this conversation with you like common people in a greeting hall. Clean yourself up, and we will continue during dinner. Ramsey,” he barks, clicking his fingers, and his personal butler who travels with him pops out from nowhere.
“Yes, my lord.”
“Please ensure dinner is ready in two hours. Mygrandchildrenneed to clean up.” He dismisses us with a wave of his hand as he turns his back and leaves.
“Of course, my lord.” Ramsey bows deeply at Grandfather’s retreating back, making his way to the kitchen.
I’m frozen in my spot, unable to move or even blink. I just stood up to Vincent Stone. I’m a dead woman walking.
“Take her to our room and get ready. I need to sort out a few things, but I’ll meet you there before we have to go down,” Dorian whispers to Bastian, and it brings me out of my meltdown.
“Where are you going?” I ask in a panic, tugging at the hand still encased in mine.
He uncurls my fingers, giving me a quick kiss and brushing my hair out of my face. “I’m not going anywhere, angel. Just sorting a few things out for dinner. Go with Bastian and shower. I’ll be there before you know it.”
“Dorian,” I whisper as he pulls away.
“It’s all going to be okay. I promise.” He kisses my head before dashing off, but I don’t see where he’s going as Bastian scoops me up in his arms. I press my face into his chest, soaking up the comfort he gives me.
“I’ve got you, pretty girl. I’ve always got you.”
22
Octavia
Water pours down over my head, washing away the blood of my father, taking away one of my sins, leaving me sparkling clean. Bastian finishes washing my hair, gently running his fingers through the strands, getting out the knots.
He turns off the shower when I don’t move, wrapping me in a fluffy, warm towel, guiding me into his room. Everything has been fixed from my destruction, and apart from the new furniture, it’s like nothing happened.
He sits me on the bed, squatting in front of me in a towel of his own, cupping my cheek. “How are you doing, pretty girl?”
Isn’t that a loaded question? I murdered our father, found out it was my brothers who were the masked demons haunting my nightmares—but they weren’t actually nightmares, an acid trip instead. Then, our grandfather turned up to declare I’ll be wed to someone outside of the bloodline. That in itself is enough to send me over the edge, because hardly anyone marries outside of the bloodline.
Bastian moves his hand to my thighs, and I hiss, remembering the cut Dorian left there. I move the towel to examine it andsee that nothing needs to be done. It’s a shallow cut, no stitches needed, but it’s a memory all the same.
“What was that about down in the dungeon?” I ask, lifting my head to meet his gaze. “You sounded worried when you barked Dorian’s name while he was doing this.”
Bas huffs, twisting his lips, but it doesn’t take him long to cave and let me avoid the question. He stands up, dropping his towel, showing off his beautiful, tattooed body.
“Dorian did every single one of these,” he says, running his fingers over the tattoo above his cock that sayskiss me. Really, I should have connected the dots when I saw that one. “Except this one. I did this myself.”
He gives me a dirty smirk, biting his bottom lip as I roll my eyes, slapping his hand away.
