by Lana Sky
“I…” Dublin’s grip loosened over my hand only to bear down more tightly than ever. “I’m afraid that none of your offerings interest me,” he said so dismissively that I flinched. “Perhaps I’m just not in the mood for distraction, or perhaps your curator hasn’t done her job well enough.”
“Is that so?” Saskia hissed through her teeth. “Then why not enlighten us all?” She waved her arm toward the guests. “What exactly excites you, Dublin? Do tell. Is it the pale, bony exterior? The childlike demeanor?” She sneered in my direction and laughed. “Please don’t tell me it’s her stunning beauty.”
“It’s simple,” Dublin replied with a shrug of his shoulder. “It’s the one thing you can’t cobble together or clumsily recreate: a pure, pedigree bloodline.”
Saskia glared at him, her upper lip curled back from her teeth.
“He is right.” Raphael sighed in defeat. “Alas, we always did share a fondness for such…” He traced his mouth with the tips of his fingers as if reliving events too horrifying to picture. But then his small smile faded. “There is another,” he added.
Dublin went rigid once more, crushing my fingers.
“The other Gray girl. The one I wanted procured. The one you claimed I could not have.” If a man like him could pout, I’d name the downturned tilt to his mouth as such. Rather than petulant, he looked more serpentine than ever. A predator denied a satisfying meal. “You did not flaunt your boundary for her—”
“Because she was not foolish enough to sell herself to me,” Dublin snapped. He eyed me pointedly and sighed. “I must beg your pardon. She’s weak.” His apparent explanation for my trembling legs. “I’ve fed from her too much. She lacks stamina. We should go.”
“You’ll leave soon enough,” Raphael insisted. “After the entertainment. Saskia.”
“As you wish.” She returned to the naked woman and positioned her to better face the crowd. “Offers for this one? I will accept payment only in years—”
“Years?” Dublin interjected, his tone hard.
“Yes.” Raphael stroked his chin and nodded. “A peculiar arrangement, but again, you have inspired us to try new methods of business. Our new policy is, rather than bartering for a few wasted nights, we trade our beautiful specimens for years of service. One year of the buyer’s for a year of hers. It is only fair.”
I nearly choked in recognition. Trade in years—a cruel variation of the bargain Dublin made for me. But something told me it was more than that. So much more.
One of the shadowy guests raised his hand.
“Two years,” he declared as casually as if bargaining with play money. Not time.
“A fair start. Any other takers?” Saskia wondered.
Another man raised his hand. “Ten,” he said. “For this one and that one.” He pointed to another girl. “Each.”
“Ah!” Beaming, Saskia clasped her hands together, her demeanor shifting into that of an expert saleswoman. “And what about this charming girl. I must admit I’m not too fond of this ‘aesthetic,’ but she is lovely, isn’t she? Do I hear an offer?”
With every second I watched the twisted event unfold, the more numb I felt. My eyes were fixated on the women, refusing to leave them for an instant. Did they even care that years of their lives were being bought and sold around them?
Apparently not. Each one faced the room with little expression. None flinched. Squirmed. Whimpered. Not even as one of the “guests” stepped forward to claim his prize. He was tall, unnervingly handsome, with eyes so amber that they bordered on ruby.
“Congratulations.” Saskia crooned. “She’s all yours, though, as per custom, you are allowed a taste before finalizing. Here.” She snatched the girl’s wrist, extending it.
In response, the man bared his fangs before lowering his head. As the ivory tips sank into her flesh, the girl gasped. But not in pleasure.
She wrenched her arm away, coming to life with another hollow cry. “N-No!” Her eyes blinked rapidly as if she were waking up from a dream. Whatever she saw made her face pale and her eyes widen with horror. “No! No! Let me go! Let me go!”
The man withdrew, his gaze questioning.
Saskia merely sighed and snapped her fingers. As if from nowhere, two men swooped from the shadows and grabbed the girl on either side. Within seconds, she had vanished, though her cries were still audible, echoing off the walls.
“Let me go! Where am I? Let me go!”
“Our new policy requires that we recruit a different breed,” Saskia admitted. She flicked the hair of another woman, who remained unmoving despite the commotion.
And their blank expressions took on a more sinister meaning.
“These girls are a bit more skittish and might require a…softer touch. But they are yours alone to break. Do I hear another offer?”
I turned, moving blindly, my stomach heaving. Logic and self-preservation vanished. I could only cover my mouth, solely focused on finding somewhere—anywhere else.
“Don’t,” Raphael snapped, his voice ringing with authority. “Saskia will attend to her. You and I have a private matter to discuss. Did you truly think I wouldn’t realize who you were looking for? The witch. Even though you’ve pretended not to all this time, you’ve believed in his curse. Haven’t you? I assume that is the reason you ran, the moment I tested that so-called superstition…”
I should have gone back—but a gag ripped from my chest and I raced down the hall until I found an empty room. The next second I was on my hands and knees, vomiting onto polished wood. The gleaming surface displayed my reflection in mocking relief—wide-eyed, frantic. Pathetic. Guilty.
Even now, faint cries echoed off the walls, and I hunched over in shame. That poor girl.
All of them.
They were here because of me.
“Oh, do get a hold of yourself, darling.”
Stiletto heels stabbed the floor in tandem as someone advanced on my position. Cloying perfume flooded my nostrils even before a pair of pale legs appeared within my line of sight.
“We all know that Dublin is besotted by the innocent-little-girl act,” Saskia harrumphed. “But my God is it tiring! Though I must thank you. Even with that goddamn necklace, he’s easier to read now than ever. Shall I share?” She giggled maniacally. “He was always surly before, but now? His thoughts are so devious that deciphering them is child’s play. Hungry. Lustful. All those things he acted so above feeling before. All because of you.”
She crouched down and tapped my chin with the tip of a pointed fingernail.
“He thinks about fucking you,” she explained, her lips quirked. “And not in any romantic, poetic sense. You’re but a trophy to him. He relives corrupting you over and over. How you felt. Your delicate little body shuddering beneath his. How you squirmed and flinched with every thrust. He felt so powerful then. It’s rather hilarious.”
My cheeks burned at the picture she’d painted. Nothing in the world felt more violating than having those words flung in my face.
“Or pathetic, actually. He hates you. Despises you. Craves you. Obsesses. It’s madness, really. One might think the man had never been laid before.” She sighed and pulled her hand away. “But you know what really gets his cold heart pumping?”
She waited as if expecting an answer. Then she chuckled.
“Your sister. The pretty one. He thinks of her often, though he guards those thoughts a bit more securely than the ones of you. Perhaps he’s fucked her as well? Don’t tell me you didn’t know… You didn’t! Oh, to see the look on your poor face.” She licked her lips in glee. “But now it’s time to go crawling back. The show must go on, my dear.” She snatched at my arm and stood, yanking me upright. “Don’t resist. I mean, honestly—”
She broke off, wrenching her hand from me as if burned. A series of unsteady steps propelled her back so suddenly that she struck the wall. Just as quickly, she recovered, and before I could even react, she grabbed me again, sliding her grip down to my wrist. Her thumb
pressed against my pulse point as her eyebrows furrowed. When she met my gaze, I didn’t know how to read her expression. Something made her bite her lower lip as she finally let go.
“Clean yourself up.” She turned on her heel and retreated to a far corner. We were in that dressing room, but Yulia was nowhere in sight. “Here.”
I flinched as Saskia shoved something beneath my nose: a white handkerchief.
I took it and warily dabbed at my mouth. Then I gagged as the image of that girl replayed. Over and over and over…
Desperate, I scanned the room, my stomach heaving.
“Do it in this, at least!” Saskia shoved a round basin into my hands.
A wastebasket that held crumpled napkins and a fresh wave of vomit. I recognized chunks of my meals from earlier and cringed, disgusted but partly relieved.
At least it wasn’t blood.
“Come.” Saskia beckoned with a crooked finger and started toward the main chamber. “He won’t tolerate our absence for long,” she warned as I lingered.
So, I followed, my heart pounding with every step. I didn’t dare look up from the floor in front of me. I couldn’t see those women. Their faces.
But I could hear. Frantic breathing. A smothered whimper.
And then Saskia’s pleased giggle as she donned her ringmaster role once more. “A beautiful girl to be sure,” she called to a man eyeing one of the women. “And I can tell you enjoy her taste. How does five years sound?”
“Keep your head down.” The warning entered my ear as a familiar hand cinched my wrist, tethering me to a body chiseled from stone.
“Until next time,” a voice called out, dripping with false politeness. Raphael.
“Next time,” a woman seconded, Saskia. “Oh, and, Dublin? To new beginnings. For both you and Eleanor.”
Veering away from them, Dublin steered me through the club until we finally reached the exit.
I barely had the chance to inhale the fresh air before he shoved me into a waiting car and appeared in the driver’s seat. As the door slammed behind him, I had enough sense to keep my mouth shut. To keep my expression blank and choke down my horror. I blinked back any tears, but I knew my heartbeat betrayed me, thrumming with shock and terror.
Dublin drove recklessly, cutting into the paths of other vehicles without a damn given for etiquette. He glowered at the road, his body rigid, his knuckles stark white over the steering wheel. The areas where he was gripping it bulged inward, and I feared the damn thing might snap in half as the car finally came to a stop.
Before I could reach for my seat belt, he opened my door—the right way this time—and I was in his arms. Rigid with tension, he carried me into a building I vaguely recognized: his high-rise. The ascent to the suite lasted seconds as he took the stairs in lieu of the elevator. When he finally hauled me into the foyer, Kate was nowhere to be found.
I was alone with him, a fact that he cemented by locking the door as he set me down, leaving me to sway with fragile balance.
“Where did you go?”
I bit my lip, hating the display of weakness. I should have been haughty and defiant, jutting my chin into the air. As it was, I could barely breathe without gasping. Panting. Whenever I closed my eyes, I saw them. Whatever horror they were currently facing was my fault.
All my fault.
“Look at me!” He gripped my chin, wrenching me around to face him, but what he saw in my eyes made him frown and release me. “Were you aware of him all along? ‘Protecting’ you?” he wondered, sneering the word. Turning his back to me, he started to pace. “Perhaps he’s the one you’ve really been fucking. Is it his?”
Hurt mingled with shame, searing my cheeks. “Who?” I croaked before an answer came as if whispered in my ear. “François.”
“Yes, François,” Dublin snarled, his voice booming.
I had never seen him like this. Smiling. Glaring. Vicious. Cold and blazing in one terrifying display.
“His kind don’t risk themselves lightly. And certainly not for a vampire-fucking whore as they would call you.”
I winced as the insult landed as intended. But I couldn’t even muster up the energy to feel insulted. “Where is he?” I despaired at my driver’s most likely fate. Still, I clung to a fragile hope even as I gritted my teeth to steel myself against the answer.
It came, uttered in a tone as cutting as a blade. “Dead. Or at least he will be once I’m through with him.”
“Please don’t.” I stepped forward without thinking, reaching for his hand. “It’s my fault. He didn’t mean—”
“He didn’t mean what?” Dublin growled, snatching his hand away. “To lie in wait to ambush you? To carry out his orders like a willing little pawn? You’re lucky he didn’t run a stake through your chest—his kind are foolish enough to believe in that myth.”
“He helped me,” I insisted, fighting to keep my voice level. “And I’m sorry—”
“Sorry?” He threw his head back and laughed more deeply than before. “You, the innocent, naïve, selfish Eleanor Gray, are sorry. Tell that to those women who will be sucked and fucked because Raphael likes toying with me! Isn’t this the part where you cringe in haughty indignation and call me a monster for allowing them to be sold in the first place?” He paused as if waiting for that very argument.
It stung to realize that, in another world, I might have lived up to that expectation. I would have blamed him.
“No? Well, I couldn’t do a damn thing without presenting you to him on a silver goddamn platter anyway. So, congratulations. Once again, you’ve made me look weak before that creature. Once again, I’ve gone against my better judgment to save your life. And all you can say is you’re sorry?”
My lips parted, but instead of another apology, a cry escaped. And I broke. Tears spilled from my eyes as sobs ripped from my chest. I swayed, bracing my hands against the wall in a fight to stay upright, but my knees buckled, depositing me onto the floor.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, though he could have been gone for all I knew. Still, it had to be said, if only to cement my own horrid sense of guilt. “It’s my fault. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry—”
“Don’t cry for them.” Dublin grabbed my arm, hauling me to my feet. Without allowing me to find my own balance, he pressed me against the wall, trapping me there with one hand on either shoulder. His eyes a burnished silver, he resembled the “old friend” Raphael referred to more than ever. Someone utterly devoid of humanity.
But then he frowned, brushing his thumb along my cheek. Yulia must have missed a spot, somewhere hidden behind my ear, because his finger came away red with blood that should have been dried by now. He eyed it like it was the most alluring and repulsive thing in existence.
“You should be crying for yourself,” he hissed while swiping his hand along the side of his suit jacket. “Those women will suffer their pain. They’ll reconcile their choices with whatever price they bargained their souls for. In the end, they’ll convince themselves it was worth it. But you?” He caressed my throat with a single finger, tracing my surging pulse. “You sold yourself for nothing. You sold yourself to me—and I am not like those other fools who take their orders from Raphael. Do you think you’re any different from them? Those women?” He cradled my windpipe, forcing my head back until I met his gaze. “Do you think I wouldn’t take any single one of them over you? I would.” He stepped into me, lowering his head until our foreheads touched. “I would.”
The fabric of my dress bunched at the waist, captured in his fist. I shivered as he tugged. With a violent rip, the material gave way altogether.
And with every bared inch of me, Dublin stiffened further, tracking the gown’s descent until it reached the floor.
“Your body affects me no differently than theirs,” he growled, his voice thicker. “You don’t appeal to me more. This pale, thin, shapeless body doesn’t fucking haunt me.” He found my nipple, grazing it with the tip of a fingernail until I jerked as if yank
ed on a string. “You mean nothing to me.”
His mouth brushed mine and my lips parted. Ruthlessly, his tongue swept inside, harsh and punishing. I could feel the prickling tease of his fangs even as they protruded, catching the edge of my tongue. All the while, his body caged me in, rough through the fabric of his suit. Repelling me even while providing strength. When my knees buckled, holding on to him was the only way I managed to stay upright.
The harder he kissed me, the more my thoughts spun, senseless. There was no seductive method to this madness. Just him gripping my waist, pulling me into him, grinding his body against whatever part of me he could reach.
Until he stopped, leaving me balanced on a precipice.
“This is the part where you agree, Eleanor,” he hissed, drawing me into his arms.
The interior of the suite blurred and distorted until I found myself shoved onto the bed in that emerald room, bathed in the multicolored glow of the city lights.
“This is the part where you reinforce that I couldn’t possibly have any interest in fucking you.” As he spoke, he tugged my legs apart, easily slipping between them.
Fabric swished and fluttered through the air, so quickly I barely registered it. His jacket. His shirt. His pants. All shed within seconds.
My eyes were still on the crumpled pieces of fabric when he slid his hand between my legs, easing the tip of a finger inside me.
“And this is the part where I pretend like you’re wet for me alone,” he continued as I gasped at the intrusion. “That deep down you relish what I do to your body. That you crave it. That the naïve, prudish innocence is just an act.” He ventured deeper, and my nails caught at the silk beneath me, scrambling for purchase. “I convince myself every goddamn time.” He groaned as my body quaked, gripping him in trembling waves. “I make myself believe it, even though I know it’s a lie.”
Another finger. Too much—but the pressure was nothing compared to his expression. Eyes narrowed with hatred even while I writhed, full to the brim with him.
“Women like you are more evil than I even would ever claim to be. It’s why you hide through life pretending that you have no appeal. It’s why creatures like Raphael try to replicate you. It’s why five hundred years of fucking life hasn’t tormented me like you do.” He drew his hand away, slamming his full length into me instead.
