Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 52247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Xavier increased his grip, and I bit back a moan.
Good girl, he said, and my spirits soared. I wasn’t sure if he meant to hurt me until he stepped back and let the makeup artist do her work. When she would cover the marks with makeup, he ordered her to leave them. They catch the eye. Xavier chucked me under the chin. Remember all I’ve taught you. I’d bowed my head and the one-eyed vampire walked off. The makeup artist shuddered, and I gave her a small smile of solidarity. Big, broad as a wrestler, with the ruined side of his face made barely presentable by an eye patch, Xavier was scary. He’d raised and trained me with unrelenting focus on my final goal: revenge. His methods were brutal and cruel. If he hadn’t given me everything I’d need to avenge my slain pack, I’d hate him.
Maybe I do hate him. In my world, hate is an emotion not so far from love.
The makeup artist gives a brisk nod and walks off, her heels clopping on the scarred stage. With my eyes trained on the floor, I can’t escape the signs of shifters—the shed fur, the scrapes on the floor where the guards forced the shifters onto the stage. The shifters who waited in the basement now, shivering in cages. I couldn’t save them tonight. Maybe if I survive.
A flurry of activity in the wings, and a short bald man in a tux strides onstage, clutching a set of notecards. He flips through them, muttering under his breath. “Lot nine, special goods. She-wolf, trained, untouched. Unblooded.” He glances at me, assessing. I might as well be a piece of meat.
I take a deep breath and get into character. Meek, submissive she-wolf trained to be a vampire’s companion.
Frangelico won’t be able to resist you, Xavier told me as he fastened a white collar around my neck. You’re beautiful. It wasn’t a compliment. In my world, beauty is a weapon. A weapon I was trained to use.
A stage hand hands the man in the tux a microphone.
“It’s time,” the auctioneer says and flaps his hand at me. I take a deep breath, raise my head, and glide barefoot onto the stage.
Lucius
“Sire, so good of you to join us.” A bowing vampire greets me as I step out of my limo. My bodyguards block his way until I motion them to step aside.
“I was told this is the place to buy a shifter.” I survey the rundown building, the empty marquee.
“Yes, yes, you are correct.” Dante gives a little laugh and runs to get the door. “The first half of the auction is over, but the remaining lots are sublime, I’m told. The creme de la creme. This way, please…”
I stride past the obsequious vampire. Why did I turn him? All my sired eventually disappoint. It’s my curse.
Groups of well-dressed vampires discreetly watch me pass. I didn’t expect to slip in unnoticed, but the way Dante keeps bobbing alongside me and babbling, I might as well have a spotlight shining on me.
The theater is old, but holds its own charm. A glass chandelier glows above my head. The red stage curtains have been brushed recently. But not even the strong cologne and perfume worn by the vampire audience can overpower the scent of shifter fur and fear.
I’ve been told the shifters are willing. Desperate for a protector, they agree to be sold to a vampire with a taste for shifter blood. There certainly are enough of us willing to pay good money for a pet.
“As you can see, our renovations have only begun. We’ve worked to preserve the integrity of the 1920s architecture—” Dante stops his tour abruptly when I lower myself into an aisle seat.
“Sire.” His hands flutter in front of him. “We’ve prepared a seat for you in the middle of the aisle. This row has not been replaced—”
“It is fine,” I nod to my protective detail and they take up stations around the aisle I’ve chosen. Six of the best bodyguards money can buy, their weapons hidden under their suits. They’re the guards people can see. I have more layers of protection than anyone can guess. After a thousand years of assassination attempts, one learns to plan ahead.
Dante hovers close, still trying to get me to move to a larger, newer seat. “These old seats have springs that aren’t very comfortable.”
He’s right, one spring is digging into my backside at this very moment.
“I prefer this seat.” I turn my attention to the empty stage.
Dust motes dance in the too-bright spotlights. The curtains ripple and the room fills with the audience’s expectant murmur.
I stretch out my legs and ignore Dante’s nervous hand fluttering. The fact that the vampire wants me to move hasn’t escaped my notice. He keeps turning and signaling someone in the balcony.