Fuck. I smell herblood.
And it smells divine.
My mouth waters.
My stomach clenches.
I can see her pulse in her neck, the rapid beating of her heart as it pushes blood throughout her body.
Shit.
No, Lana.
I blink, tossing the unexpected instinct out of my head.
No.
Ophelia shakes her head rapidly, oblivious to the moment that just happened. She steps back until she nearly trips over the edge of the coffee table. "Lana, they shouldn’t even exist. What they did to me, to you?—”
“What Augustus did to you,” I cut her off coldly. “Whatoneman did to you.”
“And what do you think the others would do?” she says coldly as she backs right into the couch. “I had to protect you too, Lana, even if it’s from yourself, because you’re too close to it all.”
"What you did is worse than anything any of the others ever did. People are dead now, Ophelia.” My words fall like anvilsfrom the sky, their impact crushing to both of us. “And why were you so angry about what Augustus did to you? Because he took away your free will. But look what you’ve done now.” I shake my head in disgust. “You used Ares. You took away his free will. Because he never, ever would have done this on his own. So, how are you any better than Augustus?”
Her mouth opens, but no sound comes out.
I watch as the weight of my words settles on her shoulders. The shock, the slow unraveling of the truth, the way she’s starting tounderstand.
"Ares will have to live with this forever," I say, my voice like steel. "That’s onyou, Ophelia."
She trembles, just slightly, but I see it. Her fingers tighten into fists. She’s trying to hold onto her justification, trying to grasp at some sliver of self-righteousness. But I see the cracks forming.
I take one last step toward her. She has nowhere left to run.
"Did you always know?" I demand. "That you could do this?"
Her lips part. A heartbeat passes.
Then she exhales, barely a whisper. “I’ve never reallyknown. It doesn’t always work. Just… sometimes people listen to me.”
Fuck.
Fuck.
“How long?” I ask, my words so quiet, they sound absolutely deadly.
She quivers as she looks back at me. The terror in her eyes makes her look manic. “It started when I was sixteen."
My stomach twists. And I remember the last time I was in this apartment. Ophelia’s tone suddenly changed. She’d grabbed me, and she’d begged me to leave Ares, to forget about him. I hadn’t even considered it for a second.
Ophelia had tried to influence me. But it didn’t work.
"How often do you do it?" I ask, low and dangerous.
She doesn’t answer.
And that tells me everything I need to know.
