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I wondered if she had already escaped, and a small, childish piece of me hoped somehow, she was on her way to save me.
It was impossible. She didn’t even know I had been taken. If she, by some miracle, had gotten away, she’d have gone back to Baldoria. I wondered how she would react to my death. We’d done everything together since I was born, and she’d been my best friend since I could remember.
Aiden had once said my mom lived for two things: me and her work. Now, all she’d have left is one. My imagination formed a scene in my mind of my mom howling, crying when she saw I was gone too. I could feel her grief, and it was worse than mine had ever been. The daydream was so real I almost forgot where I was until I opened my eyes. Several vampires stood, holding little paddles as they bid for me.
A tear trickled from one eye. I desperately wanted to wipe it away, so they couldn’t see what they were doing and how desperate I really was because I didn’t want to die. Not here.
Sanmorte was far worse than any of us could have known. I only prayed that the secret of their being able to make vampires remained as such because I couldn’t fathom the thought of more people coming here, wanting to become monsters like them, and most ending up somewhere like this.
“Two hundred and forty thousand stagma,” one man said. He was handsomely dressed in a tailored suit, wearing a royal-blue necktie.
The room fell silent. The smell of clover smoke reached my nose as one of the sangaree lit a cigar, puffing out smoke hoops into the middle of the room. It waved like an illusory dance under the red light.
“Any more bids?”
The man who’d bid on me looked around, his presence serving to make a few nervous. I could feel it in the air.
“Sold to 4162.”
I noticed the number on a white sticker on his paddle. I’d attended an auction like this before, except it was my mom who was bidding on our new house. The comparison was almost humorous.Almost.
Another sangaree I hadn’t noticed before, standing behind me, pulled me up to stand and walked me down to the blond-haired, immaculate vampire. He barely looked at me as he took my arm, leading me from the room. Before we reached the closed door to leave, I glanced over my shoulder, my eyes narrowing as I looked at the auction owner, hate and promise in my eyes.
He’d better hope I didn’t make it out alive because if I did, I would make sure he was the first person I destroyed. At this point, I was gaining a nice list of people I wanted to kill.
The vampire's icy grasp tightened as he walked us out the door and toward a private room. I struggled against him, but he was too strong. “I’m going to enjoy you before I take you home,” he said matter-of-factly. He moved my hair over one shoulder so it tumbled down my chest, then laced a finger over the back of my neck, making little circles on my skin. “I paid a lot for you,” he said slowly, and I waited for him to tell me to behave. “So I expect you to put up a fight. I hate my prey being so willing.”
I ran cold, panic seizing me as I clicked on why I couldn’t feel any emotion coming from him. I hadn’t noticed due to feeling everyone else’s before leaving the room, but his touch should have amplified our connection. Instead, he was devoid of feeling. He was relying on me to make him feel something, anything.
Gods, he was the worst of the worst, a psychopath—and I was his property.
THIRTEEN
“Please, take a seat,” the vampire offered with a level of eloquence I didn’t expect. The private room housed a queen-sized four-post bed draped in the finest silks. Hanging over the bed was a long, white see-through voile giving the illusion of privacy and intimacy.
A small table, enough for two people, sat between two cherry-wood chairs. I sat on the plush, velvet cushion of the chair, my eyes drifting to the standing sofa tucked away under an erotic painting of a man and woman tangled in lust on the back wall. I noticed there were no windows, and the lighting was a deep yellow.
“Please.” He gestured to the bowl of fresh strawberries and cream next to a bottle of champagne. “Eat, drink.”
“I thought you wanted me to fight you?” I asked carefully, breathing in the smell of fresh polish and linen.
“Naturally,” he said casually, crossing one leg over the other, creasing his perfectly ironed trousers. “But I do not want you to give up easily. From a century of experience, I have learned that a mortal treated with a balance of fear and being treated well makes for the best pets.”
My stomach churned as I turned my nose up at the strawberries. “I’m not hungry.”
He pushed the bowl across to me. “I insist.”
“If I refuse?”
“I’ll take you to the bed now.”
Slowly, I took a strawberry between my fingers, making a face as I brought it to my lips. The creature watched me like a cat watches its prey, running his hand over his trimmed, dark beard. I pressed the smooth edge of the strawberry against my mouth and took a bite. A burst of sweetness coated my tongue, accompanied by a sour tang. I took another bite of the juicy fruit and finished it with a dollop of cool cream.
“How does it taste?” His wanting eyes followed my fingers as I licked the juices.
I shrugged, not wanting to give him anything he may enjoy, but at the same time, wanting to stall him for as long as possible. I glanced at the bed and the uncertainty and inevitably of what this room meant. “What’s your name?”
“Hamza.”
