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When she’d first realized that she was being held a prisoner, she’d had many thoughts about what was happening to her. But not one of them had involved being called “ware” by an auctioneer, or hearing an audience applauding each bid.
Reyes sat at a small glass table, one knee crossed over the other. A server hovered nearby just for him. On the other side of the stage, Engles sat directly opposite and had already raised his glass, making it clear to Reyes yet again that he expected no competition for his bid.
But Engles was safe from him. He’d long since made his decision and would stick with his plan, despite the fact that his nerves had grown ragged with waiting. He dreaded seeing Angelica walk down the runway.
The bids had already started and he feigned his interest in each woman, knowing that as the newest Starlin member he would be watched for a long time. Even sex slavery had a probationary period.
Many would be curious about him. Others, like Engles, would want to know how his loyalties fell. He had an organization to protect so no doubt everyone, including Reyes, would require continual surveillance and monitoring.
How did Reyes know? Because he would have done the same thing, left nothing to chance. Engles struck him as the same type of man, in complete control.
Reyes finished his whiskey, then ordered another, just to keep the edge off. The parade of captive women disgusted him. They were frightened by what was happening to them, and more than one had stumbled in her stilettos on the way down the polished wood runway.
He just had to get through the night, win his bid for one of the groups of five, then get the hell home.
But when the gavel came down to indicate that number nineteen had just been sold for one-million-five, his stomach twisted into a knot. The new owner lifted her off the stage and carried her to a dark corner. A muffled scream followed.
Reyes struggled to suppress his rage, reminding himself for the hundredth time to take the long view, that one day this organization would be toast.
Then Angelica appeared at the top of the runway and he fell to a place of intense stillness. Time flowed to a stop as he stared at her. He forgot for a moment where he was. He saw only her, the shape of her brown eyes, her straight nose, her full lips. She was an incredibly beautiful woman and carried herself like none of the others. He’d been right about her: even now her spirit showed.
Suddenly he wanted to be back at the Ocean Club, but instead of warning her away, he wanted her in his arms, wanted to take her home, to make her his. He could have protected her then, if only he’d known what was in store for her.
His gaze drifted down her body, to full br**sts peaked in the cold room, her narrow waist, and the elegant line of her h*ps and legs. She had a narrow landing patch.
Unlike all the others, she at first refused to move, which caused the tension and interest in the audience to rise. But two doms with whips nudged her, and she finally moved forward.
Time resumed when the auctioneer started running through a list of assets, including her womanly dimensions and how many sex partners she’d had.
She moved slowly, glancing around the tables. No other slave had done that. Her expression slowly filled with disdain, her upper lip curled, her cheeks drawn back.
He wanted to warn her that these outward displays would only enflame the audience, but there was nothing he could do. He could only stare, like everyone else.
Her hair had been piled high on her head, revealing her long tapering neck, while a very long, leopard-patterned scarf, just a few inches wide, trailed from a feathered headdress over her right shoulder, partially covering one breast. She held the scarf in place by wrapping it around her arm as though she kept this one part of her body sacred.
She had no idea that an attempt at modesty and the look of defiant disgust in her eyes would have the opposite effect, making her more and not less desirable.
He felt the interest of the vampires around him like a wave through the room as the tension level ratcheted up.
She paused halfway down the runway and threw her arms wide. “You’re all a bunch of f**king perverts. What’s wrong with you people? Can’t you see that what you’re doing is vile? That it goes against every honorable code of humanity?”
The crowd erupted, not in disapproval, but rather in a sudden flood of bids. She looked confused now, not understanding what was happening.
But Reyes did. She’d just set herself up as a sadist’s dream, an innocent, worthy woman ready to fight.
The auctioneer shouted above the din, “I have two hundred thousand, do I have three? Three, do I have four?” The number kept escalating, and quickly.
He saw her mouth move and extended his hearing. Her voice had dropped to a confused whisper. “What’s happening? I don’t understand.”
He glanced at Engles, who was now on his feet, his face red as he called out a bid that launched the number to two million.
Two million. So fast.
Slowly, Angelica lowered her arms. She searched the crowd, trying to make sense of her surroundings. She pivoted, looking perhaps for one person who would stand with her against this terrible crime.
Reyes rose to his feet and moved next to the runway as so many others had, needing to see her defiance close up. He now stood no more than three yards away from her.
When she met his gaze, her lips parted. She shook her head several times. “No,” she murmured. She looked at him with a question in her eyes; then the answer seemed to dawn on her and her gaze grew cold. “So you’re one of them.”
He nodded slowly, still staring at her as the bids kept climbing toward four million, Engles leading the way. She searched his eyes and he saw profound disappointment, but she couldn’t possibly know what it would cost him to support her right now.
He had a role to play and lives to save. He had his cover to protect.
But even as he made up his mind, a different kind of drive rose up in him, one that involved getting her off the stage so that all these other men would stop looking at her.
In a strong voice, and against every ounce of reason, he shouted, “Five million.”
“I have five million from one of our newer bidders, Reyes of the Venezuelan system.”
The crowd fell silent.
“Do I hear five-million-one-hundred-thousand?”
Engles suddenly called out. “Reyes, what the f**k do you think you’re doing?”
Reyes glanced at Engles. “I want the woman.” He even offered a show of fangs, just to let Engles know he meant what he said.
Engles met his gaze, staring at him hard, but Reyes kept glaring back. “My bid stands. You offering more?”
