Page 93 of The Veil of Blood and Magic

It's empty, save for some lush furniture that rests on a raised dais, no doubt for the Collector and his son and the Treasure to be able to look down on everyone.

“Wait here,” the collector core says in a monotone voice before slamming the door behind us.

My heart races, and I will it to not take off in the wrong direction. Trying my best to hold on to my power even as the silver chain around my wrists cuts into it.

It isn't as thick as the ones the Balan and his drifters used when they captured me, and thank fuck there isn't an ounce of liquid silver in my blood, but it stillhurts. It feels like my wrists are encased in a rope of fire, one that has the sole purpose of draining the life out of me. It's taken everything I can do to not cry out, but I draw on the strength radiating down my Linked bonds to smother it.

“Something doesn't feel right,” Zev says so low only the two of us can hear it.

“That was rather easy,” Jagger agrees.

“Is it usually more difficult than this?” I whisper, barely moving my lips in case there's someone watching that we can’t see.

“Not exactly,” Zev says, his golden eyes surveying the room. There are no windows, and there’s only one exit behind us.

“Maybe you're seeing things that aren't there,” I whisper, doing my best to discredit his unease. Perhaps it's fabricated because he’s an active part of a rebellious act, but either way, my nerves are on edge. The longer they make us wait, the longer these chains will be on my skin, and the less power I'll have.

My knees begin to shake from the weight of it after waiting so long when the door behind us finally opens. Zev jerks me to his side unceremoniously as the Collector himself waltzes into the room, barely sparing me a glance as he bounds up to the dais and takes the cushioned chair in the center.

He wears a cloak of red and black, and he’s thick around the middle. I can feel his power buzzing off of him, like he might shift into his terrible beast at any moment and swallow us all whole. More collector core spill into the room, a dozen splitting off the middle aisle and each taking a side either direction of it.

I look to Zev and Jagger to see if this is all normal, but they have fully committed to their drifter roles, their faces masks of calm and indifferent. Bounty hunters waiting for their reward.

The last person walks in, slamming the door behind him hard enough to shake the entire room.

I suck in a sharp breath, feeling the ice-cold power that radiates off of the prince as he slowly walks down the middle of the room.

He stops before us, turning to look us over.

He's tall, his lithe body draped in black, such a contrast to his father's preference of blood-reds. His hair is like a raven’s feathers shaping his face, his eyes a glowing silver, cold and unforgiving. He’s emotionless as he looks us over, his eyes lingering on me and trailing the length of my body.

Adrenaline crackles in my blood, my power begging to be unleashed, begging to slice his throat as he stands there looking down his nose at me.

He tilts his head slightly, as if he heard a noise somewhere that piqued his interest. That quickly, the intrigue look is gone, replaced by an icy maliciousness that looks like he might have fun killing every single one of us in this room just because he's bored.

“Gray,” the Collector says in a commanding tone from where he sits on his throne.

The prince blinks a few times, finally taking his eyes off of me and moving to stand at his father's right.

The Collector points at Zev and ushers him forward. “You finally have something worth trading?”

Zev nods and shoves me forward, pushing me over and over again until I hiss and stumble to my knees at the bottom of the dais.

“Something you've been wanting for quite some time,” Zev answers.

“Well, go on then,” the Collector says, looking like we've interrupted something important in his day. “Show me what she is.”

I'm surprised that he can't tell already, that he isn't using that enormous wealth of power to sniff out what truly I am. Perhaps after decades of having people wait on him hand and foot, and never being challenged, he's grown lazy.

Jagger grips my hair, yanking my head back hard enough that my fangs bare.

The Collector scoots to the edge of his seat, absolute delight rippling over his features as he smiles down at me. His son doesn't smile, but he descends a couple steps down the dais, eyes wide.

“Would you look at that, Gray?” The Collector says to his son. “How long have you been searching for one of these by yourself? A year?” The Collector laughs. “I told you, you should have used the drifters. They’re quite useful creatures. Look,” he says, motioning down to me. “I didn't even have to ask for a succubus, they simply delivered her.”

I furrow my brow, unable to stop myself from looking up at the prince, wondering what he could possibly want a succubus for and why he wouldn't have been able to locate one himself.

“Our agreement,” Zev says to the Collector, bringing the attention back to him. “This creature is rare enough that it should secure our trade, correct?”

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