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.
My sired are plotting something. From the pains they took to stage this auction, their plot has been in the works for some time.
No matter. In my long lifetime, I’ve found one coup is much like another.
Theophilus, one of my sired, takes a seat a few rows ahead of me. He turns and bows his head. I tip my own in acknowledgement, and beckon him over.
“Sire,” he says when he reaches my side, and bows. “How may I be of service?”
“How many auctions have been held here?”
He glances around the dimly lit room. “A fair amount. I only heard of them a few months ago. This is my third time.”
“And the shifters are willing?”
“As willing as they can be.” He grimaces. “Most are rare species. Without a large clan to protect them, they fall prey to stronger shifters.”
“So they agree to this?” I wave a hand at the stage. “Is it better to belong to a vampire?”
“I am not a shifter, so I would not know. My guess is a life in servitude is better than no life at all.”
I press my lips together. Most shifters I’ve met would rather be free. After all, they are part wild animal.
“Do you have any further questions about the auction?” Theophilus asks. Of all my sired, he’s the least likely to conspire against me, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t.
“Not at this time.”
“Do you intend to bid, Sire?”
I study Theophilus’ face for a hint of emotion. Interest, hope, anything. “I haven’t decided.” I give him an enigmatic smile.
“You might be surprised. Many of these shifters are naturally submissive. Owning such a powerful creature can be exhilarating.”
“That is something to consider,” I murmur.
“That is something to consider,” I murmur.
“When you live forever, there are so few new pleasures to enjoy.” Theophilus glances at the stage and licks his lips. A blatant show of anticipation.
Perhaps there is nothing nefarious about these auctions. In the long life of a vampire, it’s easy to succumb to boredom. Boredom begets deeper and deeper perversions.
“When you live as long as I have, there are no new pleasures,” I say. “You make do with the old.”