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My heart stops, throat dry and chest so tight my hand goes to it.
“You’re coming to the Auction with me where the richest students of Blackwood U will bid on you. They will have their fun, and you’ll do your part to make them believe you’re interested. You’ll play along.”
What? No. He invited me as a guest.
I turn to the other heirs…
But Enzo nods, eyes manic with a wide grin. Bastian can’t seem to pull his gaze away from my chest.
“But ultimately, Dove, you’ll be mine.”
The statement, made so matter-of-factly, as if it were afait accompli, snares my attention back to Axe.
Sitting straight in the simple upholstered chair and flanked by his heir brethren, I have the strangest thought.
Axe has never looked more like a king, more like the heir to his family’s legacy than right now.
I stanch it before my brain makes my mouth say it.
“I will be the highest bidder, and you’ll come back to the lair with me.”
“Why? I’m already here.” My voice is stronger than it has any right to be.
He leans back in his chair, that dark smile back on his lips. “Because if you don’t, I won’t help you with your Syndicate problem.”
I swallow against the bile rising in my throat. “Wh-what did you say?”
“Oh, come now, Dove.” Axe stands, coming close enough to spur the dressmaker and helpers to retreat. He puts a finger under my chin. “You’ve been rifling through our things for weeks now. And you’ve done alright putting things back where they go, for the most part. But I know where every paper, every mote of dust is in this lair.”
Enzo stands too, rubbing a hand over his bald head. “We gave you just enough rope to hang yourself with. Why do you think we were never here?”
“We wanted to see why a beautiful demon with no ties to the realms we frequent was suddenly in our school,” Bastian says.
“So, you’ll go to the Auction, angelcakes.” Axe pulls my face back to his. “And you’ll come back with us as ours.”
“Yours?”
Axe nods.
“What does that mean, exactly?”
“Flaming hells, Dove. Must I spell it out for you?”
But it’s Enzo who answers my question.
“You’ll be our plaything. For as long as it takes to grow tired of you.”
“And in exchange,” Bastian offers, attempting to soothe Enzo’s harsh words. “We’ll help you with whatever problem you have with the Syndicate.”
“We’ll give you some time to let it sink in,” Axe says, finally releasing my chin. He looks over my head at the dressmaker. “Have her ready by eight.”
“Of course, Mr. Axwell.”
I watch the heirs stroll off down the hall to their rooms. The second the last door shuts, my knees give out and I stumble off the platform.
“Flames help me. What have I done?” I murmur on all fours.
“Ms. Collins! Please. The fabric.” Lumière helps me to my feet. “There, there. We’ll wait until you’re more surefooted. Yanis, fetch a glass of water.”
