by Tate James
“Tonight we have a very special catalog on offer, which you have all been provided a copy of, along with the corresponding lot numbers. We also have a late submission which will be auctioned at the end of our usual proceedings.” The woman was a natural performer, captivating the crowd and sliding her disgusting message out into the room like silk. I took the opportunity to look around at the roomfull of what I assumed to be buyers. The lights over the tables were dimmed so low that it was hard to make out any details at all, except that most of them were men. Every now and then the light would catch on the metallic surface of a gun, and I knew the girl had been right in telling me to wait before attempting an escape. I wouldn't make it halfway across the room with this many armed sleazebags in one place.
The enigmatic woman was still making her opening speech on the stage. All attention was on her, so no one was taking notice of my return to clarity. I was almost ready to give up on inspecting the room's inhabitants when a figure directly opposite me caught my eye.
Staring hard through the gloomy light, I desperately tried to make out whether my mind was playing tricks on me or not. I could have sworn that Simon was standing in an alcove halfway behind a heavy velvet curtain and staring at me.
I blinked hard a couple of times, trying to shake a bit more of the foggy drug from my brain, but when I refocused, he was gone and I was left wondering if I was just hallucinating. The last time I had seen Simon, my childhood friend, he’d had me handcuffed naked to a cot. He had done his best to break my mind that night, and I had been furious to hear he had escaped when Dupree was captured.
I seriously hoped I was imagining things.
6
In despair, I watched helplessly as one by one my fellow captives were paraded across the stage. Their physical attributes were listed, then they were bid on and sold like cattle. After the closing bid on each slave, a collar was buckled around the slave’s neck and the leash handed to the new owner, as though it weren't obvious enough that they were no longer free people. The whole thing was making my stomach churn and my morals scream that I needed to do something, save these poor people being sold into a life of slavery.
Don’t be stupid, Kit. You’re way outgunned, and who knows what effect this drug is having on your body right now.
Despite my mind being much clearer, I had no way of knowing whether my speed or strength was back to normal, and I wasn't about to test it against what looked to be around fifty to seventy well armed individuals. Based on the fact that they were all here buying humans, I hardly thought they would blink twice at casual murder.
After what seemed like hours, I was the only “lot” left for auction. The sweaty, overweight man manhandled me up to the stage when I didn't move fast enough for his liking.
“Now, ladies and gentlemen, for a special treat we have a late entry into tonight's auction. An American girl, lot fifty-four is a little older than our usual selection, but with age comes experience. She has all her own teeth, is in excellent health, and yes, she is a natural redhead.”
She paused to force out a laugh that grated against my nerves. “That means the carpet does match the drapes, gentlemen.” I stifled a snort at this ludicrous comment because, for one, no one actually said clichéd statements like that anymore, and, for two, this woman had clearly never heard of laser hair removal.
“There has already been prior interest in this lot, so the bidding begins at one million. Do we have any takers to start us off?” The woman gestured like she was some sort of deranged game show host, but I gaped at the starting cost. One million what? Dollars? I guess it's not a cheap business, kidnapping, transporting, then selling unwilling women.
“Ah, I see we have our first bid: one million to number thirty-three in the front.” The woman smiled pleasantly, waving her hand toward the bidder in her ridiculous game show way.
I followed the direction of her gesture, and a terrified shiver of ice ran down my spine.
The bidder made no effort to hide his face in the shadows like the rest of the room; instead he met my surprised gaze with confidence and smiled a cruel, victorious smile like a shark who had just found a crippled seal cub.
His face had aged significantly since I’d last seen him, but there was no mistaking his burning, nasty eyes. He held my petrified gaze as he spoke to continue his bids against other interested parties. Sharp needles of fear cut through me at his familiar voice. Mr. Grey. Of all the possible culprits behind this kidnapping, I had never even considered the possibility of him.
His gloating grin dropped abruptly, a flash of panic cutting across his face, which snapped me from my frozen horror.
“Here!” he snapped, louder this time, his attention back on the auctioneer. His brow creased heavily, and his cheeks flushed with anger.
“Final bid is with The Rom—I mean, with bidder twelve, at three and a half million. Are there any further bids?” the glittering auctioneer announced politely, point-blank ignoring Mr. Grey's paddle in the air.
“Here! I said here! Four!” Mr. Grey bellowed, standing from his seat and waving his paddle madly.
The woman auctioneer beside me made a subtle motion to a security guard. I watched as he sidled up to Mr. Grey and clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder, pushing him forcefully back into his seat.
“Final bid at three and a half million dollars, going once…” the woman continued as though no one had spoken, and Mr. Grey looked like he was about to blow a gasket. His face was so red it was closer to purple, and his eye twitched like he had a spasm. He cast a look at the guard, who kept a huge hand clamped on his shoulder, and must have decided to keep his mouth shut. I imagined these weren’t the sort of security guards you wanted to piss off.
“…going twice… Sold, to bidder twelve. Congratulations, sir, an excellent buy.” The sparkling woman purred out the final nail in my coffin as though bidder twelve had just bought a lovely tea set rather than a living person. I guessed I should have been grateful, though, that whoever had just bought me clearly wasn't associated with Mr. Grey, judging by the furious set of his jaw. A wave of relief conflicted with the overwhelming panic that someone had just bought me.
As I tried not to hyperventilate and do something stupid that would ultimately result in me ending up a bloody mess on the carpet, another guard stepped up and buckled the obligatory collar around my neck. Using the leash, he then jerked me down from the stage to pass me off to my owner, like a pedigree puppy.
Having just been pulled all too quickly down the shallow stairs while wearing six-inch platform stilettos, when we came to an abrupt stop at the table of bidder twelve, I was too busy trying not to fall flat on my face to take a proper look at the man who just spent three and a half million dollars to buy me. Fuck only knew what he was going to expect in exchange for that type of money. Good thing I had no intention of sticking around to find out.
By the time I had sufficiently steadied myself, my leash had already been handed over and the guard was nowhere to be seen. I tilted my chin up defiantly, aiming my very best death glare at the man who had the audacity to purchase a woman. Disappointingly though, his face was still in shadow, so I had no idea if he was even looking at me, let alone feeling the full, wrathful impact of my glare.
There was an awkwardly long pause, but eventually the man chuckled with a deep, liquid chocolate sound and leaned forward into the light, tugging my leash to bring me closer. My eyes widened, and I gasped as I took in his face. He was young and gorgeous, maybe mid-twenties at most, with dark coloring that hinted at Eastern European lineage. His wavy hair was worn longer than I was used to, almost reaching his shoulders, and his gray eyes sparked a sense of déjà vu.
“Do I know you?” I tried to ask, but the drugs must still have been affecting me more than I realized because it just came out as a slurred jumble of noise.
He scowled at my attempt to speak, his granite gray eyes like thunderclouds. Standing abruptly, he stepped into my personal space and forced me to tilt my chin to
look up at him, despite my high heels.
“Vin. Să plecăm,” he rumbled in a smooth, velvety voice that held me captive for a moment, and I barely even registered that I had no idea what he had said.
“Huh?” I gave up on real words, but noises seemed fine. The young man scowled his thunderclouds at me once more, jerking his head to an entourage I hadn't yet noticed. At his words, they had all stood from their seats and were waiting, ready to leave. He gestured politely towards the exit, indicating that I should start walking, but I couldn't seem to make my feet move as I stared hard at the leash in his hand.
Is this seriously fucking happening right now? God I hope this is all a bad dream.
I had anticipated that whoever bought me would have maybe two or three goons with him, which I could have handled pretty easily by myself once we’d left the auction. Whoever this guy was, he must be important because his entourage consisted of roughly fifteen burly looking men—that I could see so far—and who knew how many more once we left this room. Shit.
“Is there a problem?” The beautiful man holding my leash asked in flawless English, his face giving nothing away as to his mood.
I look around, weighing my options, and my gaze caught on Mr. Grey. He was still at his table with the security guard standing over him, but his eyes felt like they were burning holes through my skin as he glared. My breathing spiked as a wave of terror threatened to engulf me, determined to drag me into the undertow of my childhood trauma. Whatever this stranger had in store for me, it had to be better than being back at his mercy once more.
I pasted on a tight, brittle smile as I turned back to my captor. Shaking my head because I still didn’t trust my ability to make words, I glared once more at the leash in his broad, clenched fist.
“I know what you’re thinking, and the answer is no, I cannot remove the collar. Rules of the auction house. Please…” He gestured once more in the direction of the exit, and this time I did as I was told. Just like a good little slave. Because I would rather be a willing slave for the rest of my life than let Mr. Grey get so much as one finger on my skin.
My stunning new owner fell into step alongside me, his men fanning out around the two of us in a smooth, practiced formation as we made our way into a dark underground parking lot.
Without wanting to appear too obvious, I covertly monitored the security team’s movements as they swept the garage for threats, then cleared the black armored SUV before holding the door open for us. The way they moved screamed out years of practice and training, which didn't bode well for my future escape attempt.
“Dupa tine,” my companion said with a brittle smile and indicated for me to precede him into the car. I flushed uncomfortably under his storming, silver gaze and quickly tried to duck into the vehicle, only to be pulled up short by the leash still clenched in his fist. I let out a strangled yelp and caught my balance against the door frame as my ridiculous shoes wobbled dangerously.
“Îmi cer scuze, frumoasă,” the intimidating man murmured from behind me, stepping in close and brushing his hand across the back of my neck as he unbuckled the collar for me. I raised a hand to rub my now naked neck and turned my face to look at my captor. Good God, he was even more handsome up close. Life wasn't fair. I frowned, noticing for the first time since waking up that the arching pain in my chest had eased.
“Thanks,” I muttered, my words still a little slurred but decipherable. “What did that mean?”
He tilted his head to the side, inspecting my face with an intensity that made me squirm. “Just apologizing.”
I nodded in lieu of anything smarter to say and hopped into the back seat of the SUV. When he followed me inside and saw me pasted to the furthest possible position from him, his handsome face lit up in an amused grin that he made no attempt to hide.
“Relax,” he told me, infuriatingly. As if I could relax! “Don't give me that look. I understand you're a little… scared, right now. But we have a long journey back to my home, so you may as well relax for now. Pick your battles wisely, dragă.”
My temper bristled at his words. “I am not scared,” I lied, my eyes narrowing. “And what do you mean ‘pick my battles wisely’?”
“Hush, I have business to conduct.” He pulled his phone from the pocket of his coat, which he had already taken off before getting in the car. I tried not to see the strain of his cotton shirt across heavy muscles as I considered my odds of getting help by yelling and screaming while he made a call.
“Don’t bother,” he answered my unspoken plan with a tiny smile pulling at his lips. “The people I am calling do not give a fuck if you’re here against your will.”
Was I that obvious?
He dismissed me with a wave of his hand and made his call, spending the next twenty minutes on the phone speaking in his foreign language. It sounded different from the Russian that the guards had spoken but also somewhat similar, so I guessed it to be from somewhere in the same general region.
He hung up as the car was slowing to a stop outside what appeared to be a small airport, the type that my adoptive Dad, Jonathan, used when travelling on his private jet. A heavy wad of fabric landed in my lap, drawing my attention away from the scenery and back to my new owner. I raised my eyebrows at him in question.
“Put that on. It’s freezing outside,” he ordered, indicating his own cashmere wool coat that he had tossed to me. I glanced outside again and saw snow dusting the low shrubs near the edge of the car park. So we must still be in the Northern Hemisphere. That really narrows it down.
Not stupid enough to risk hypothermia, just in case an escape opportunity presented itself, I meekly pulled the coat onto my arms and fastened the buttons. As I tugged the collar up around my neck, I caught his scent on the fabric and frowned to myself at how similar it was to Cole's. Both of them had a distinct scent of fire, but while Cole reminded me of smoky campfire embers, this guy was spicy and hot like a blazing bonfire.
“Did you just smell my coat?” His words cut across my musing, and I froze, my face flushing hot with embarrassment.
“Definitely not,” I lied again, staring out the heavily tinted window at the small plane, which had just landed.
“Mm-hmm,” he murmured, and from the corner of my eye I could see a smirk on his rugged face. His gray eyes laughed at me, and I felt my face flame brighter.
I turned my attention back to my surroundings while we sat there and waited for who knew what. We were at an airport, which meant flying somewhere. I desperately did not want to fly anywhere. While I didn’t have any idea where we were already, something told me I stood a much better chance of escape here. His men had accompanied us in two more cars, but other than them, there must also be airport personnel. If we were flying internationally, then surely there would be some form of government official as well? If I could get clear of the goons long enough to reach an airport official, surely they would help me.
“I don't know why you're smiling right now,” he commented, dragging my attention back to his imposing form. “I'm not sure I'd be so happy if it were me that had just been sold into slavery. Each to their own, I suppose.”
I wiped off the smile that I hadn't realized I was wearing and glared back at him. The last thing I needed was to make him suspicious.
At the signal from one of his goons, he opened the car door and slid out, leaving me with one of his guards while he strutted confidently towards the aircraft where two uniformed pilots waited.
I immediately spotted my opportunity.
7
A car had just pulled up outside a small building a hundred yards from where I stood, the driver hopping out and leaving his door wide open and the engine still running as he strolled into the building. I lifted a foot to take a step in that direction, but the guard left behind with me clamped a tight hand around my upper arm.
“Move it,” he snarled, giving me a push in the direction of the plane but not removing his hold on me. I hesitated, pretending to stumble in my stripper h
eels and watching the vehicle that presented my best chance of escape. The driver clearly didn’t intend to be long or he wouldn’t have left it running, so if I was going to act, I needed to do it fast.
I reached up, grasping the man’s hand where it clasped my arm and yanking hard. I twisted my body as he lost his balance, just as Cole had taught me, and heard the sickening crunch of his wrist breaking in my iron grip as he fell. Not wasting a second to feel bad for the guy, I shoved his weight off me and took off sprinting for the idling car.
To my absolute dismay, when I came within reach of the car my ankle rolled in the tall stilettos, and I hit the deck hard, as though I were the blond at the beginning of a horror movie. Panic surged through me like lava as I scrambled back to my feet and attempted to dive headlong into the vacant driver’s seat, only to hit a wall of muscle.
“Fuck!” I screamed, furious at myself for making such a stupid, clumsy mistake.
“Miss, are you okay?” The man whom I had just collided with steadied me with hands on my shoulders and gently pushed me back a step so we weren’t practically hugging. I took quick stock of his clothing. Black pants, heavy boots, and a puffer jacket with a logo I didn’t recognize.
“Yes! No, I mean no, I’m not okay! Thank God you speak English!” My words were still coming out a little thick, and the frustration and fear of my near escape was making tears well in my eyes.
“I do…” He raised his eyebrows at me, and I saw a shadow of fear cross his face as he looked over my shoulder.
“Please, I’ve been kidnapped. Please help me! Call the police or something!” I begged, not wanting to turn and see what had caused the color to drain from his face. I didn’t need to. A huge hand clamped down on the back of my neck, the fingertips digging hard into my delicate skin.
