Auctioned for Her Blood: The Vampires' Illuminant Book 1

by Mara Leigh

  “Are you going on the auction block?” he asks.

  I shake my head.

  “You should. I’ve heard it’s for a good cause.” His eyebrows rise. “I dare you.”

  “Sorry.” I back a few steps away. “I’ve got to go.”

  Turning quickly toward the stage, I bump into a rotund patron, his belly hanging over his cummerbund. “I’m so sorry.” I stammer to the man, and then dash through the crowd to take a seat at a table at the edge of the stage, next to Mia and her intern Rico.

  Mia and her assistant Rico can handle this auction without me, but I need something to do, something to distract me from the way I feel around Ryker—dangerous, mysterious Ryker.

  On stage, Zuben is reading a short script that Shana prepared, and I remember the touch of the tall elegant man’s lips on my injured hand, the way he looked into my eyes when he tenderly kissed my cut palm.

  So much for distractions.

  Another round of heat shudders through me and dampens my barely-there panties. I can barely breathe now, barely think. Clearly it’s not just the nighttime I can’t handle, because I met Zuben in the daytime.

  As overwhelmed as I feel, I have no doubt about one thing—something inside me has awakened tonight. Something scary and exciting. Something I dread, yet want to explore. It’s all confusing and crazy, but every instinct inside me is screaming that nothing in my life will ever be the same again.

  Up on stage, Zuben shakes his head, lowers Shana’s notes, and then goes off script.

  “Sanctuary House helps hundreds of young people each year,” he says, his voice strong and clear. “This is a good cause, run by competent, caring people, so please, open your wallets and bid generously. Some of Philadelphia’s finest restaurants and venues have donated dinners and tickets for the dates on the auction block, so I encourage you to bid on the chance to share an evening with one of the individuals who have volunteered their time.”

  “Now.” He gestures to the side. “I will hand the microphone to our auctioneer, radio host Gloria Sanchez.”

  He walks off the stage as our emcee calls up the first person to be auctioned—a former player from one of the local sports teams. The date with this sports guy includes dinner at a fancy restaurant and floor seats at a sporting event—basketball, I think. I should know who the tall man is, but the electric charges buzzing through my body are scrambling my thoughts.

  I need a task. Something to keep me occupied and distracted from my wild sexy mood and this raging desire inside me.

  Standing, I turn to Mia. “I’ll help Shana escort the winners to the front, okay?”

  Mia shrugs, and I join Shana at the edge of the stage.

  “Hey,” I say to her. “Need some help finding the bid winners? Two sets of eyes are always better than one.”

  “Sure,” she nods. “Teamwork makes the dream work.” Shana’s glowing. I’ve never seen her so elated, and with the huge donations from Ryker and Zuben, I guess she has a good reason. Unless…do these men affect her in the same way they affect me?

  Nah. I’ve got nothing to worry about there. Shana is hopelessly devoted to her wife of sixteen years, even if only the last few years of that marriage have been official.

  The final bid for the basketball date comes from a middle-aged woman, and a spotlight is trained to where she’s standing. She looks like she’s had way too much plastic surgery, her skin unnaturally smooth and her eyes too open above her clinging and sparkling gown. Shana goes into the crowd to escort her up to Mia as I watch the crowd bid on the next “lot”, a dinner and symphony date with our communications director, Shelly.

  The bidding for Shelly is slow at first, only a single hundred dollar bid from a man I suspect is Shelly’s husband, but then Ryker jumps the bid up to three hundred dollars, and another older man joins in. That sparks a four-way war that ends with the older man bidding six-hundred-and-fifty dollars.

  I head out to escort the man up to pay, but before I reach him, Ryker steps into my path.

  My breath catches in my chest. “Thanks for bidding,” I stammer as the buzz revs up inside me again.

  “I’ll bid on everyone if it makes you happy.” His eyes widen and fill with desire.

  “You will?” I know it’s hyperbole, but my heart thumps hard in my chest as my entire body heats and tingles. I feel paralyzed under his gaze, trapped.

  Shana touches my shoulder, startling me. “I’ll make sure the winning bidder gets up to Mia.”

  “Sorry.” I shake my head, trying to clear my mind.

  Grinning, she leans in close and whispers, “No worries, lamby. You entertain our donor.”

  Embarrassed, I keep my gaze trained on the carpeted floor and on Ryker’s leather boots, which are oddly both rugged and elegant, like the costume from a period film. In fact, his entire ensemble could be the costume from a movie now that I think of it.

  “Penny for your thoughts?” His voice draws my gaze up to his face that’s full of handsome amusement.

  “I’ve never met anyone like you,” I blurt before thinking.

  “That’s because there is no one like me.” He grins.

  I laugh. “Plus, you’re so humble.”

  Chuckling, he brings his hands to his heart. “I’m no braggart. Just stating the facts.” He shifts a few inches closer—or maybe it was me who moved?—and the heat of his body penetrates mine.

  “And I’ve never met anyone like you,” he says, his voice so deep and delicious I swear I can taste it.

  “Excuse me.” Another voice breaks into my consciousness, and I step back abruptly.

  My lower back runs into Zuben’s hand. Or did his hand purposefully catch me?

  Drawing a deep breath to regain control of my senses and thoughts, I shift away from the fire of Zuben’s touch on my back.

  “Mr. Zuben—” I say.

  “No mister,” he corrects me. “Just Zuben.”

  I nod. “Yes, sorry—Just Zuben.” I grin. “Thank you for kicking off the auction.”

  “It was my pleasure to participate,” he says. “But now, I wonder if I might have a moment of your time, Ms. Cross.”

  “Just Ember,” I say my cheeks heating.

  “Just Ember.” He nods, a smile dancing over his lush lips.

  I glance toward Ryker who’s glaring at Zuben, but his expression quickly changes back to something more neutral when he notices me looking.

  “I hope I am not interrupting.” Zuben looks at Ryker.

  “As a matter of fact,” Ryker says, “you are interrupting.”

  “Apologies,” Zuben says. “But I assure you, my business with Ms. Cross is most urgent.”

  Squaring their shoulders, the two men face off in silence, as if each of their stares holds the power to slay the other. My body pulses, inexplicably drawn to both of these men. They aren’t the only attractive men in the room, so whatever’s going on with my body, not every good looking man is a trigger.

  A shameful thought enters my mind. Am I attracted to wealth?

  “What’s wrong, Ember?” Zuben asks me. “You look ill. Did this cad offend you? Touch you inappropriately? Say something crude?” He shifts, like he’s about to attack Ryker.

  At first glance, the tall, elegant Zuben shouldn’t be a fair match against the rugged, wide-shouldered Ryker, but as Zuben’s chest expands and his chin rises I sense the immense power inside both of these men. If they fought, they’d tear each other apart, and I’m ashamed to be a little excited by the idea of watching that hypothetical battle.

  Hoping to calm them, I lightly touch both of their arms, dropping both my hands before I give my fingers their fair chance to sense the solid muscles under their jackets.

  “Everything’s fine,” I assure Zuben. “Great, in fact.”

  Zuben looks at me with concern. “I’m glad to hear that, but I really do need to speak to you. Alone.”

  I nod, but Ryker’s clearly annoyed. At this moment, I can’t choose which man to please and which to dis
appoint. I want to please them both, for reasons that have nothing to do with the money they’ve donated to our charity. I’m intrigued by both of these very different men.

  “Thanks again for bidding on the first date,” I tell Ryker. “You helped drive up the final donation. But if you’ll excuse me for a moment—”

  “It was nothing.” Ryker leans down to my ear and whispers, “I’d part with a dozen gold bars for an evening with you.”

  A flush washes through me at his obvious exaggeration, yet I can’t help but glance back at Ryker as Zuben leads me away.

  A couple crosses my field of view, breaking my eye contact with Ryker, and I turn forward and continue alongside Zuben, without speaking, barely thinking. This night has been the strangest, most exhilarating of my life to date, and I feel like I’m floating, a balloon pulled on a string held by Zuben as we cross the ballroom floor.

  We stop in a shadow at the edge of the ballroom, and he hands me a glass of champagne.

  “When?” I shake my head, embarrassed that I didn’t even notice him picking the flutes off a waiter’s tray as we walked, because that’s the only explanation for how he got them.

  “When what?” He looks into my eyes and I’m mesmerized again by their color, by their interest in me.

  I take a quick sip of the sparkling wine to avoid answering. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

  “Everything.” His eyes darken and he leans toward me. “You evaded my questions at our first meeting, and I want to know everything about you. No detail is too small.”

  “Oh.” My cheeks heat and I take another sip of champagne. “There’s not much to tell.” My teeth scrape my lower lip as I scramble to think of something to keep this sophisticated man’s interest, because as scary as it feels, more than anything, I want to hold his attention.

  “Have you always resided in Philadelphia?” he asks.

  “No.” I shake my head. “I grew up in a rural area of Pennsylvania. In the mountains. Pretty isolated, really. How about you?”

  “Are your parents still there?” he asks. “Your brothers and sisters?”

  I shake my head.

  “They came with you to Philadelphia,” he says. “What year was this?”

  My eyes threaten tears, and I look down. It’s been ten years, and I thought I was over the loss of my mother, but I’m not.

  Zuben’s finger gently urges up my chin, and my mouth opens to draw a ragged breath. I can’t believe how his light but intimate touch radiates inside me, spreading down my throat, into my chest, and lower.

  “You are all alone,” he says softly, his eyes full of concern and empathy.

  I nod.

  “I too am alone.” A wistful look bathes his eyes.

  “I’m sorry.”

  His sad expression vanishes as quickly as it arrived. “I lost my family a long time ago.”

  I nod, feeling a connection to this man; we have something in common. “It feels like a long time ago for me too.”

  “And what happened to your parents?” he asks.

  “It was just me and my mom.” I take another sip of the wine while I consider how to respond. I’ve never told anyone what happened to my mother, and I’m no longer sure I even trust my memories of what happened. Over the years, my memories have become intertwined with nightmares and false memories—of fires, of other attacks, of losing people I don’t even know.

  “Mom was…she disappeared.” The verb taken would open too many questions.

  “Disappeared? How?” He gestures to a passing waiter and then reaches for my flute, and I’m shocked to find it’s nearly empty. He exchanges our glasses for two full ones.

  “She disappeared into thin air.” I shrug, covering my feelings and wishing I’d just claimed she was dead. “Just up and left me.”

  He frowns, clearly not satisfied with this answer. “Thin air? She did not leave any clues?”

  “None that were useful.” I sip my champagne, hoping to disguise how much that day haunts me. How my memories, although vivid, no longer seem real.

  Once I left the farm and discovered the world, the internet, I did look for my mom. And I asked questions at the bank where the money she left me was held, talked to the lawyers who set up the trusts, but no one could, or would, tell me a thing.

  But I don’t want to come off as the poor little orphan girl.

  Discomfort rising inside me, I change the subject. “That guy with the gold bar, Ryker, do you know him?”

  Zuben’s demeanor changes. His muscles tighten, his spine and jaw stiffen, and a dark cloud settles around him. A chill traces down my spine, as if he changed the room’s climate.

  “Stay away from that man.” Zuben’s voice is harsh, losing its silky smooth texture.

  “Why?”

  “Ryker is dangerous. The worst kind of scoundrel.”

  “He seems nice to me.” I raise my chin. “He’s very charming, and he made such a generous donation.” I don’t know why I’m arguing. Dangerous is exactly how Ryker first seemed to me. Still does.

  “Ryker Stone is a criminal,” Zuben says crisply.

  I gasp. “That gold bar? Was it stolen?”

  Zuben nods.

  “From whom?”

  “My employer.”

  “DEFTA?”

  He nods.

  “Should we call the police?” My eyes widen and I scan the room, looking for Ryker, spotting him thirty feet away, leaning against a high-top table, staring at me and Zuben. Okay…staring at me.

  I turn my attention back to Zuben and lean in close to whisper, “Did you already call the police when you and Shana went to the front desk?” The police crashing in here would definitely change the room’s climate. I should warn Shana, but she might already know. Part of me wants to warn Ryker.

  “No police.” Closing his eyes for a moment, he sighs. “I do not have sufficient evidence to prove his thievery. Not yet.”

  “So, it’s just a suspicion?” I glance back toward Ryker who nods and winks.

  “Ember.” Zuben reaches forward and our fingers brush. Alarmed by the warmth that floods through me. I sway slightly, momentarily knocked off balance. Or maybe it’s these high heels.

  “I cannot stress this enough,” Zuben says, his voice serious. “Stay away from Ryker. He is a dangerous criminal—a pirate.”

  “Wait a minute.” Smiling, I tip my head to the side, assuming he’s joking. Are the two of them playing a prank on me? “A pirate?” I chuckle—although now that the word’s been mentioned, he does dress like one. Maybe that’s what put the idea in Zuben’s head.

  But Zuben remains stony faced—and gorgeously handsome. If he’s joking, he’s got an amazing poker face.

  “So… You’re claiming he’s a pirate. Like a swashbuckler on the high seas?” Is this jealousy talking? If it is, I’m not sure I like this side of Zuben.

  “You may simply call him a thief,” Zuben says, “if that makes it easier to understand in a modern context. Whether he seizes his bounty at sea or in port, from a plane or an armored truck, Ryker’s modus operandi has been and always will be that of a pirate.”

  “Okay…Listen.” His accusations seem way over the top, and donating three quarters of a million dollars to a not-for-profit does not seem like something a thief would do. And if this is Zuben’s way of competing for my attention with Ryker… I don’t like to be told who to like or who to spend time with.

  Wanting out of the conversation, I glance to the front of the room. “I’m supposed to be helping with the auction. But it was nice talking to you.” I turn to go.

  “Ember.” He grabs my hand, and I’m nearly pulled off my feet at the abrupt stop.

  “Please,” he says, looking apologetic, but not letting go of my hand, his very tight around mine. “You do not understand the severity of this situation, the danger a man such as Ryker poses—especially to you.”

  I tug, but my fingers are trapped by his larger and much stronger ones. Fear invades my chest and
my belly, freezing out all the warmth. “I understand enough,” I say coldly. “Let me go. Please.”

  He releases my hand and my fingers ache from the pressure. He bows his head slightly then looks back into my eyes. “Please accept my apologies. My actions in physically detaining you were abhorrent, but your safety is my only concern.”

  I draw a long breath, reminding myself that this man is a major donor, a man who, until the last minute, I felt an unbelievable attraction to and connection with. And as he gazes into my eyes, I feel that connection again and believe him when he says he wants to protect me. In fact, given the intensity in his eyes, I get the distinct feeling that he’d kill anyone who tried to harm me.

  But that’s silly.

  “Ember, I suspect you are very special.”

  “Suspect?”

  He raises his hand to his forehead. “Forgive me again. I am not well practiced in speaking with women.”

  “I don’t believe that for a moment.”

  “Nevertheless, it is true.”

  I shrug. No point in arguing on that one.

  “You are clearly special,” he says somewhat awkwardly, “and a man…a man like Ryker…He poses a great threat to you. I do not want to see you get hurt.”

  I smile softly. “Thank you, but I can take care of myself.” Two wealthy men fighting for my attention seems like something out of a fantasy—not real life. And Zuben’s warning is clearly driven by jealousy.

  My fingers graze Zuben’s arm, and he inhales at my touch.

  “I do appreciate your concern,” I say firmly. “But I really do need to go help Shana.”

  Walking away on shaky legs, I can feel the heat of Zuben’s gaze on my back.

  Chapter Seven

  Ember

  “Hey, Ember,” Shana says as I approach. “We’re on the final lot.”

  “I’m sorry I haven’t been here to help.”

  “Not a bit.” She squeezes my arm. “Everything’s gone swimmingly. Plus, I spotted you having a drink, not only with Mr. Stone, but also with our mysterious Zuben.” Her eyebrows rise a few times. “Both men seem to have taken quite a shine to you.”