Page 64 of Fangs

“One million,” he repeats. “For the girl.”

The auctioneer stammers. “One million to the gentleman in the corner. One million. Going once.”

The room holds its breath.

“Going twice.”

The gavel rises.

“Sold.”

The gavel falls.

I can’t breathe.

The cloaked figure steps forward. His movements are fluid. Predatory. A single candle flickers on the wall beside him, and his face is bathed in light.

I know that face. I have dreamed it every night. I have touched it in the darkness. Kissed it in the void between worlds.

He is here. Flesh and bone and hunger.

Blake.

Home

The shadows pour from the corners, a living tide of darkness that swallows the candlelight, the bidders, the auctioneer. The pig-man’s desperate scream cuts through the haze, then vanishes into silence.

I stand naked on the stage, wrists still bound, skin prickling under the sudden absence of eyes. The darkness reaches for me.

It slides across my bare flesh, warm and soft as silk, tasting the places where fear and defiance still burn. The shadows weave themselves around my body, spinning fabric from pure night. A gown takes shape—midnight and starlight, diamonds glittering like a captured sky. Long sleeves. A sweeping skirt. A bodice that molds to every curve as if the darkness itself has memorized me.

The shadows recede, retreating to the edges of the room. The hall is empty now. Only ash drifting through the candlelight, settling on the stone floor like a dark snowfall.

And him.

Raven hair spilling over his crimson eyes, burning like open wounds of fire. The violet-silver ghost is gone—burned away. What remains is denser, absolute.

He strides as a demon-shaped rupture in reality, flames snapping toward him like broken leashes, starving for the abyss they’ll shatter against.

Black leather clings to him, every line radiating power that makes the air itself feel heavier. A king of shadows returned from exile.

“You came.” My voice is barely a whisper.

“You called.” His voice rolls through the silence, velvet and thunder, shaking the very bones of the house. “I will always answer.”

My pulse hammers.

“You broke the curse.” His expression softens. “I have all my power back. I’m whole again. And I’m bound to you, Lucille. Bound by love and the call that pulled me across dimensions.”

I can’t move. My body refuses to obey. I stand frozen, trembling, tears tracking down my cheeks.

He waits. Patient. Eternal.

I glance at the empty hall, the ash still falling. “What happened to everyone? The people. The bidders. The auctioneer—”

“I removed their eyes.” His voice is casual, almost bored. “They saw you naked. That was unacceptable.”

I blink. “You… what?”