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Ratilda is talking animatedly to him and I can only guess at the subject. She mentioned they’ve had larger selections other times. Just how many girls have been taken by them? What happened to them?
The Crown stands tall with his hands behind his back, his head tilted up so that he’s looking down on Ratilda. He doesn’t say a word to her before turning and leaving her standing awkwardly. She looks around as if to see who witnessed their conversation and appears to be relieved when nobody pays her any mind. Their attention is solely on the two men making their way around the room and engaging with the auction attendees.
The more serious of the two stands tall and assured, while women ogle and men cast envious glances his way. He commands the room, floating from person to person. Every woman is affected. It’s evident in the way some lean into him, running painted fingernails down his suit jacket. Another woman plays with a locket that hangs precariously close to her breasts. Her fingers glide across the skin of her cleavage suggestively, while she rakes her tongue across her bottom lip. My cheeks heat at the blatant way these women are throwing themselves at these two, yet neither seem interested in any of it.
He peers over his shoulder, looking directly at me. I hold his gaze, not moving a muscle. I won’t show fear and I won’t allow him to think he’s getting to me. My face is stone as his eyes lock onto mine. Minutes pass and I don’t relent. The other man leans into him, whispering something for only him to hear. Finally, his eyes leave mine and I blow out the breath I’d been holding. They continue to discuss something between themselves and the boyish one looks around the room as everyone continues to stare at them.
He leans over once more, saying something that has the Crown’s mouth tilting up into a smile.What is he up to?They walk from person to person, grabbing each of their hands and saying something that appears to relax each of the creatures. For the first time since this pair entered the room, the bidders leave their side and take to various corners and alcoves.Why are they suddenly uninterested in these two?
I watch them continue to command the room, but as they do so, the guests they’ve already spoken to, the ones who ventured off from this twisted party, begin acting strange. Their red eyes no longer glow brightly; they’re muted and almost... foggy. It’s as if they’re in a daze, movements mechanical and stiff.
What did they do?
A man runs his hand up the leg of his date, pulling the material of her skirt all the way up her hip. The fact that she isn’t wearing panties is obvious as he reveals a patch of hair between the woman’s legs. My eyes widen as he shoves his fingers inside of her roughly. Somehow, he manages to undo his pants and they pool at his feet. It isn’t long before her hand is around his length, pumping up and down. She throws her head back as his fingers slide in and out of her. I watch as the scene unfolds, my mouth dropping to the floor in shock and disgust. They are blatantly about to have intercourse right here in front of everyone.
“What the hell is happening?” the blonde next to me asks in a high-pitched squeal.
“I have no idea,” I admit, unable to look away.
I hear the other donors gasping and murmuring their revulsion as we’re all forced to watch the obscene actions unfold. Nobody in the room—with the exception of us—is bothered because they are all in their own states of pleasure. They have no cares in the world as to who’s watching. It’s turned into a freaking orgy in a matter of minutes. As ashamed as I am to admit it, I’m transfixed. It’s a menagerie of sex and I can’t tear my eyes away. It can’t be helped. I’m an unwilling voyeur, but as I watch, I become aware that my body demands to take part.
Heat pools in my core—foreign and intoxicating. Lust envelops me like a lover, and I am suddenly desperate for something I don’t understand. Nothing good can come of this, yet I don’t turn away.
An invisible magic weaves through the room, championing the desire and threatening to pull me under. The man Ratilda called Crown looks up at me, watching, knowing. He doesn’t turn away as more people paw at him. Instead, his eyes remain on me, his gaze intent and fiery. I’m wet in places I should not be, and my breath is coming out in unsteady spurts.
The man’s throat contracts as he gulps, seemingly affected by my current state of arousal, the simple move only making it worse. Tingles have me tightening and contracting, needing a release I’ve never once felt before. The tension builds low in my belly, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think I was going to c—
Oh God.
My hands fly to my mouth as the horror of what’s happening sets in. How? Why? As I shake off every last bit of the heady feelings, self-loathing takes hold. Why would my body react like that? More concerning, why am I attracted to the man that rules this world of darkness and death?
Jerking my eyes away from the suited royal, I suddenly feel sick at what I’m seeing.
He’s caused this in some way.
From the moment he walked into the room, all sensibility was wiped away. His looks have me acting like an idiot along with everyone else. For that I hate him even more. A tear slides down my cheek and I wipe it away, angry. My chin drops to my chest, eyes closing to drown out the room.
“Close your eyes,” I yell to my fellow donors. “They’re doing this. Don’t watch it.”
My lids slam shut as I refuse to be forced into seeing this. He’s to blame and I know it. I’m not sure how he’s managed it, but whatever he said to these creatures, his words, it did this. I have no idea of his motives, but I won’t succumb to his wicked game.
“What’s your name?” That masculine voice has my head jolting up. My knees quake at the closeness of the two newcomers. Unsure of their motives, I’m desperate to escape.
“What’s your name?” the man Ratilda had called Lawrence repeats, a little more forcefully the second time.
“You can f—.” The words don’t come. I can hardly think, let alone form sentences. I’m frightened. My finger flops down at the number affixed to the floor in front of me.
“I dare say, brother. She’s ignoring us.”
The Crown huffs. “That has to be a first for you.”
Are they seriously making jokes?
“Are you afraid?” the man asks with a frown.
I consider lying, but the way my hands shake at my sides makes the answer obvious.
“Yes,” I hiss through my teeth. “But I’mpissedtoo.”
