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“Don’t be frightened, dear. We don’t bite.”
It takes every ounce of willpower not to stare daggers at the jeering announcer.
I take a shuddering breath as the heirs turn to face the crowd, making sure my shoulders heave big enough that the camera can pick it up.
“Isn’t she lovely, folks? Look at that perfect neck.” The announcer can hardly keep the trembling desire out of his voice.
I find the camera once again and will another tear to well.
“Let’s go over the rules, shall we?” The announcer strides in front of us but is careful not to walk directly in front of me.
“Bidding begins at one-hundred and goes up by at least ten.”
Pretty low for a whole person, but maybe the rich kids don’t have access to their trusts yet?
“Final bid is the winner. If there is any question, I will be the final judge.” The announcer leans closer, despite Bastian’s low rumbling protests. He covers the mic with one hand. “And isn’t that such a shame? I can’t take part in the bidding war.”
I manage to keep my eyes rounded and scared, but I’d have much preferred ripping his spinal column out through hisspindly chest. What is it with the vampires I’ve met so far all being skin and bones?
This vampire is just as beautiful as all the others in the crowd. Perfect skin, perfect smile, dazzling eyes. To a human, it’s likely very appealing.
To me…
He’s boring. Flat, almost plastic. Like someone brought the idea of a perfect face to life but didn’t bother putting a personality or soul in too.
“Ah, well, we all have our crosses to bear, I suppose.”
He turns back to the crowd.
“We will keep the bidding civilized. No shouting, or biting, or killing to get your bid in. Use your paddles, or your bid will not count. If you haven’t received a paddle, then you were invited as a spectator only and are not permitted to bid.”
A chorus of boos echo around the warehouse.
“I know, I know. What I wouldn’t give to bid on this sweet little demon. Now, settle in, conjure up a seat, and the heirs will get this year’s treat ready for us.”
Ready?
What does that?—
Under me, the stage rises. Elevating me and the heirs.
“Remember, Dove,” Axe says as he circles to my front, blocking the crowd from view. “Play into it. They already love you, but the more money you bring in, the more?—”
“Money I get to keep,” I snap.
Axe’s jaw tightens. “Yes,” he says and yanks my dress off my body in a single, vicious movement.
I glare at him as I count to five in my head. “Lumière’s going to kill you.”
“Gregor doesn’t care what I do with his masterpieces, as long as I’ve paid his invoice.”
That same Gregor convinced me that wearing underwear would be a sin against his creation. “Panty lines are the devil’s work.” I argued for a thong, but he insisted the bodice and hips were too tight, and the line of the waistband would still be visible.
Did he know?
Did Gregor talk me out of underwear because he knew I’d be Auction off in the nude?
“Stand tall, like you did at the fitting, Dove. A demoness is always at her most noble, most powerful and beautiful when her breasts are bared.”
