Blood That Binds: A Vampire Romance (Blood Legends Duet) Page 6

  My head spins at the realization. Why would anyone want to drink blood? The answer is so obvious that it practically smacks me in the face.

  Vampire.

  I nearly laugh out loud at the ridiculous thought. Vampires aren’t real. I’ve lost my mind—it can’t be. Those types of creatures don’t exist. Not in my world. Not really. For years this has been drilled into my head. Between my parents and Dr. Tilney, they had me convinced several times that I was insane. You knew better.

  My God. This whole time Maggie and I never had a name for what we saw, but they had to have been vampires. But why didn’t they ever attack or drink our blood? It doesn’t make any damn sense. Yet, as I look into the pale, scary man’s eyes, they begin to change, to morph from soulless black to glowing red orbs. The very same as the monsters that have haunted me my entire life. The same monsters that caused my sister to leave me.

  They took our blood earlier so that these things could sample us. Why an auction when they can simply take what they want? Vampires are powerful, aren’t they? I rack my brain for anything I know about them, but the truth is, I only know what I’ve read in fictional books and watched on television. For all I know, I know nothing. My anxiety builds and I sway on my feet. Being in the dark makes it impossible for me to have any chance of survival.

  A woman joins the man, pulling him into her. She spots the red liquid and licks it from his chin in an intimate gesture.

  “What do you think of her?” the man asks in a heavy accent.

  “She’s rather plain, don’t you think?” Her brow rises as she surveys me.

  “She’s a virgin,” he says roughly.

  My spine straightens. How the hell would he know that?

  “I know,” she purrs. “I could taste it.”

  I jerk back, mystified. Taste it? Our blood can tell them that much about us?

  “She’d be a fun plaything for a while,” he croons. “Can you smell her fear?” he says, head turning in my direction. His eyes. They’re more red than before.

  Monsters.

  These creatures are definitely the things of my nightmares. They feed off fear and lurk in the shadows. Their blatant sexual appetite pollutes the air and chills me to the bone. I’ll never survive. None of us will.

  “What about the Black girl?” She licks her lips. “She’s delectable.”

  “No. This is the one.” He nods his head in my direction.

  The woman pouts for a moment before cheering up. “Fine. But I choose next time.”

  “My darling, if you wish to have something in particular, you can have it anytime. This girl’s blood calls to me,” he all but purrs. “She’ll be the perfect—on demand—donor. We won’t have to hunt. We can enjoy Barbados without drawing attention to ourselves. Isn’t that why we’re here?” he runs a long, thin hand down the woman’s cheek adoringly.

  She purses her lips looking at me but finally agrees, “It is. It’s the only reason I allow you to spend so much money on filth,” she sneers in my direction.

  Everything inside of me is screaming to run. I can’t leave here with them. My eyes scan the room for an escape. One door to my left is unoccupied. If I made a run for it, I might be able to make it. But what then? How would I get out? You wouldn’t.

  What’s worse? Trying and failing or lying down and taking what’s coming? I’d rather die a thousand deaths right here in this auditorium than be subjected to whatever “play” this psychotic creep and his deranged hussy have in mind. I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the inevitable.

  Don’t.

  Maggie’s voice in my head has me staying put. It’ll be all right, she says.

  I don’t feel like everything is going to be all right. Between blood-drinking maniacs and my probably dead sister’s voice ringing in my head, I’m far from all right.

  “Please make your way to the center of the room. The auction will begin in one minute,” Ratilda speaks through the microphone.

  The odd couple saunter away, going to stand in the middle of the crowd. A tapping on the microphone draws everyone’s attention to Ratilda.

  “It appears as though the decisions have already been made,” she chuckles. “No doubt it was a hard choice, with the exceptional donors we have this time.”

  That word again . . . donors. It just cements what I’ve already concluded. We’re to be used as blood banks for these overly powerful vampires. Used and eventually discarded for another.

  “This is your last call to sample the blood and make your final decisions.”

  The room starts to move in and out like a kaleidoscope. My body sways and my head feels light. There is a real possibility that I’m going to collapse right here on this stage. The faces of the men and women are going in and out of focus. Their eyes shine brilliant shades of blue, amber, but mostly red. A tsunami of frightening images appears. The faces of the people below me contort into hideous sneers, sharp canine teeth protruding from their mouths. No.

  Perhaps I have already died, and this is some sort of purgatory. The room begins to spin as recollections of the girl from the cell, being bitten and drained of blood, flood my memory. I breathe in and out, willing myself to calm down. You can survive this, I repeat over and over again, trying to calm myself to no avail.

  How can there be any possible way out of this alive?

  A strong breeze blows above us. My head lifts to find a giant industrial fan moving the air around the room. I close my eyes, breathe, and allow the air to cool my clammy skin. Soon the spinning recedes, and I open my eyes to take in the actual monsters in front of me. Vampires.

  “All right, ladies and gentlemen, it’s time. Let the bidding begin,” Ratilda announces over the speaker. “The auction is a tradition that’s gone on for centuries. It was started by our beloved late Crown, Darius Bellamy. To him we are forever grateful for bringing our kind a way of survival, without the threat of wiping out our food source.”

  Chuckles, grunts, and hurrahs are heard around the room.

  “Well . . . and it’s a lot more convenient than hunting,” she crows. “What else do we need all that power and money for? It’s why men pay extravagant prices for sex . . . it’s better when we have it on call at a moment’s notice,” Ratilda’s voice grows low and frightening. “Blood from a fighter is better than blood from the willing.”

  Again, the room erupts into laughter and cheers.

  Disgusting. The whole lot of them. They’re not doing this to survive. They’re doing it for convenience and because they can. We’re nothing but human slaves to be fed off of.

  “We’ll start with number seven-ninety-one.” She motions toward the short blond girl. “Seven-ninety-one hails from the Southern region of the United States. She’s the perfect heavy lifter for those projects you have.” The room erupts in laughter at the blonde’s expense and I want to throw up. So not just to be fed off of, but for whatever warped purpose they choose to use us for. “Seven-ninety-one, please step forward.” She does as directed, stepping forward into a bright spotlight. “The bidding will begin at two million US dollars.”

  “Two million.” The plump woman in the white wig waves a paddle in the air.

  “Wonderful. Do I hear three million?” Ratilda asks, looking around the room with wide eyes and a Cheshire cat grin. “Now surely you won’t let this wonderful creature go?” She looks at the blond girl and tsks. “Or perhaps she should pay you.” She throws her head back in laughter and the others join her.

  The blonde begins to weep, body shaking from what I can imagine is embarrassment and fear. I want to go to her. To wrap her in my arms and tell her to be strong, but nothing I could ever say would make things better.

  “Fine then. Seven-ninety-one to Countess Devoir for two million dollars.”

  The woman nods her head in satisfaction.

  The auction goes on for what feels like forever. The mousy girl is sold to a purple-haired woman for twenty-two million, the girl from the cell next to mine is auctioned off to a les
bian couple for thirty-four million, and the Asian beauty was just sold to a French man for fifty-one million. The obscene amount of money these creatures possess nauseates me. Every girl seems to bring more dirty money to this detestable cause. Stacey and I are all that’s left, causing my insides to toss.

  “Who shall be next, friends?” Ratilda calls out.

  My gaze meets Stacey’s. The fear shows on both of our faces. Neither of us is ready to be sold off, but we know there is nothing we can do to stop it.

  The noise level starts to grow as those in the crowd shout their preferences. My eyes land on the strange couple from earlier, and fear coils around me like a snake does its prey. The man’s lips turn up into a wicked grin. He must know how scared I am. It has to be written all over my face.

  He can smell your fear.

  I steel my resolve, not wanting him or anyone else to see me break. The more I try, the more I feel like I’m going to faint. Just as the room starts to sway again and my vision blurs, a loud bang sounds from the back of the room.

  Everyone spins to look at the cause of the ruckus. The place is eerily quiet; not a monster speaks. The stage we are on is not tall, and with the spectators blocking the view, I can’t see. Standing on my tiptoes, I try to catch a glimpse of what has everyone still as statues. Seeing nothing, I lower myself, wringing my hands together nervously. These frightening people all appear to be confused. Whatever is going on can’t be good.

  My eyes land on Ratilda, and what I see there does nothing to ease my growing panic. She looks almost frightened. What could possibly have her frightened? She’s the monster running this awful auction. I’m still watching her closely when her entire body relaxes and a wide, sinister grin transforms her face.

  “Well, well, if it isn’t the Crown playboy,” she croons, all sugary and sanguine. “Welcome, Lawrence.” Ratilda makes a low bow, smirking as she stands. I can’t see the person she addresses, but whoever he is, she finds him to be attractive. The way her cheeks pink and her lashes flutter, it isn’t hard to surmise. Her voice is flirtatious yet reverent, only providing further evidence that whoever this Crown playboy is, he’s got her full attention.

  “Ratilda, it’s always a pleasure to see you.” The boyish voice sweeps across the room. “I’ve brought a friend today. I’m sure you all know him, so why is nobody showing their respect?” the man says stonily, and every single one of these creatures bows low. The other man, whom I’ve yet to see, doesn’t say a word.

  “Please, excuse my brother and his stiff formalities. I’m only a spectator today. Rise.” His voice washes over me. Smooth and masculine. My body reacts in ways it has no business doing, knees going weak and body swaying slightly. I cringe at its utter betrayal. While I’m having an internal battle, gasps and whispers ensue all around, as whoever he’s brought is unveiled.

  Ratilda’s eyes widen. “Your M-Majesty, please, come forward.” She stutters on the words, clearly caught off guard by this sudden turn of events. By the formal title, I venture to guess that whoever it is rules this repulsive race of monsters and my earlier reaction to him only makes me feel worse. I can’t even look out at the crowd anymore. Shame lances through me at the way a simple voice could have me acting so out of character. Boys have never been my weakness and damn sure nobody as evil, because anyone coming to this event can’t be anything but.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  I lift my head slowly, watching as the crowd parts, giving way to a young man who looks to be not much older than myself. He’s blond and sporting a cheery disposition. Everything about him appears normal. Don’t let his smile fool you; he’s still the devil.

  He waves to me as if we’re old friends, and peering at him, I wonder. My eyes narrow, searching his face, which seems so incredibly familiar. Have we met before? There is something about him—something I can’t place. He grins as if he knows my thoughts. My lips slam together in a harsh line, stopping the smile that almost slipped. He’s charming, that’s for sure.

  The devil is too.

  I’m still pondering his level of evil and who he could possibly be when he steps aside, exposing his companion. Much to my horror, his face matches his suave voice. He’s not repulsive. No, not in the slightest. Everything around him seems to fade a bit, as if he steals the color from every part of the room. I don’t hear a sound apart from my beating heart and shallow breaths. His head lifts, and bluish-green eyes pierce through me, freezing me to my spot. My breath hitches as I take him in.

  He’s tall and every bit royal. The black tuxedo that is tailored perfectly to his body looks expensive. Not that I have anything to compare it to, but it’s magnificent and exquisitely pressed. His dark blond hair is swept elegantly back, allowing for no obstructions to his penetrating eyes.

  My gaze pushes downward, landing on his strong jaw lined with scruff. He’s sophisticated, with an edge of roughness, unlike anything I’ve ever seen. The most beautiful man to ever be in my presence stands before me, frightening me to my very core. He may be beautiful, but he’s one of them.

  His stare is fierce and unyielding, causing my legs to wobble once more. I dig in my heels and will myself to stop shaking. Standing taller, I press my anxiety down. Fear is what people like this want. It gives them power, and they already have enough of that here. The right side of his cheek lifts into a small grin, as if he knows exactly what I’m attempting to mask. I glare in return, not fully hitting the mark. Instead, it’s more of a grimace.

  I won’t let him think he has any control over me.

  “Your Highness,” Ratilda says, drawing the mysterious man’s eyes away from me. “We didn’t realize you’d be joining us today.” Her voice shakes a little.

  “I didn’t realize I needed to notify anyone of my plans. I thought it was high time I participated.”

  “You’re going to bid today?” she says, eyes bulging. Based on her reaction, this is something new. Why now? What’s made him come to an auction he’s obviously not been to in a while?

  “You never know.” He grins at her and she appears to relax.

  “We’ve had better attended auctions in the past. Surely, you’d rather come when we have more of a selection,” she says, motioning at those of us on the stage as though we were a disgrace to her event.

  “Do you wish me to leave?” His brow rises, a deep scowl marring his handsome face.

  “Of course not, Crown. I wouldn’t, Crown. P-please forgive me.” He waves her off.

  “Please, proceed with the auction.”

  She begins to speak, and he lifts a hand, silencing her.

  My stomach plummets. I suppose some naive part of me hoped he came to end this madness, but no. He’s here to watch. Or worse, bid.

  His eyes meet mine once more and I do my best to show him how much I hate him and everything he stands for. I allow all the rage I’ve harbored for years come to the surface, pointing it directly at him. If my gaze could kill, he’d be dead on the spot.

  His eyes narrow on me, searching, but for what I’ll never know. If he hopes to find forgiveness in me, he never will. I continue to level him with the most lethal glare I can muster and almost falter when he shakes his head slightly.

  No, what? Don’t test him? Don’t fear him? What the fuck does he want from me?

  That’s a question I won’t get an answer to as he turns his head and walks away.

  Chapter Six

  “I— Um, we’ll continue in a few short minutes. Those who have already made their choices, please see Ramsey in the great room.”

  Ratilda runs her hands down her hips, smoothing out her skirt before walking briskly off the stage and toward the Crown. She’s visibly shaken. How can he evoke such fear from a woman who runs such an abhorrent business?

  He’s the one actually running things.

  My back aches and my muscles are tight from all the tension. Undoubtedly, the nights spent curled up on the dank, cold, concrete floor of the cell have made it all the more difficult for me to
stand stock-still in this getup for what must have been hours.

  The charming man looks me over one last time, then turns away. My body sags. With all eyes on his friend, I finally have a moment to rub my shoulder. I groan at the exquisite pain as I work out a knot.

  “Psst.” I look over to the blonde standing next to me. “What’s going on?” she says. I lift my shoulders in answer. My wildest guess would probably be wrong at this point.

  “Who is he?” Her voice is loud, but it goes unnoticed in the noise of the crowd. They are too consumed with the newcomers to give us a moment’s thought. The men and women gather around them, vying for their attention.

  Ratilda is talking animatedly to him and I can only guess at the subject. She mentioned they’ve had larger selections other times. Just how many girls have been taken by them? What happened to them?

  The Crown stands tall with his hands behind his back, his head tilted up so that he’s looking down on Ratilda. He doesn’t say a word to her before turning and leaving her standing awkwardly. She looks around as if to see who witnessed their conversation and appears to be relieved when nobody pays her any mind. Their attention is solely on the two men making their way around the room and engaging with the auction attendees.

  The more serious of the two stands tall and assured, while women ogle and men cast envious glances his way. He commands the room, floating from person to person. Every woman is affected. It’s evident in the way some lean into him, running painted fingernails down his suit jacket. Another woman plays with a locket that hangs precariously close to her breasts. Her fingers glide across the skin of her cleavage suggestively, while she rakes her tongue across her bottom lip. My cheeks heat at the blatant way these women are throwing themselves at these two, yet neither seem interested in any of it.

  He peers over his shoulder, looking directly at me. I hold his gaze, not moving a muscle. I won’t show fear and I won’t allow him to think he’s getting to me. My face is stone as his eyes lock onto mine. Minutes pass and I don’t relent. The other man leans into him, whispering something for only him to hear. Finally, his eyes leave mine and I blow out the breath I’d been holding. They continue to discuss something between themselves and the boyish one looks around the room as everyone continues to stare at them.