Page 16 of Servitude to Serpents

“Sold! To Mr. Acevedo, a lovely choice for your first auction.” The auctioneer, an old, craggy woman who will probably outlive us all, beams from herplace on the stage. The nude carnation beside her stares blankly at her own feet as slides play out behind her, each one documenting her training, her…specialties.

Stuart settles into his spot behind my table, making a sound of disgust at a particularly graphic slide of what appears to be several spreaders gaping her asshole while a man's fist works its way in. I don’t bother hiding my chuckle. Stuart has served in the House of Serpent since long before I came to power. The man practically raised me, along with my father. Still, he refuses to take part in most anything held by the House of Bloom. Odd, seeing a man I’ve watched unload a magazine into a pregnant woman’s belly on my father’s orders turn his nose up at sex slavery.

I can smell Julissa Eaton long before she claws her way into the seat beside me, a crystal wine glass nearing empty balanced between slender fingers. “I didn’t get a chance to say hello last night, Basilisk. Leo and I were quite excited to see you attend a party again after all these years.”

My eyes leave the next girl being auctioned off on stage, attempting for a moment to hide my boredom. “Yes, well, you seemed quite occupied.” When my gaze lands on hers, I stare first at her plump, overfilled lips, then her unnervingly blue eyes, taking care to notice every pointy, crow-like feature. Her lips part as she shifts in the tight dress she’s wearing, straining as she presses her thighs together. It couldn’t hurt to have them on my side during bidding—not that they particularly care who gets what girl as long as their pockets are deep enough.

Mine are.

“I saw what you did, you know?”

I don’t respond to her; she could be talking about any number of things, but when she casts a pointed glance over to the House of Tyet table, I smirk.

“We should have you banned from the auction all altogether for such a childish display of disrespect, placing your emblem over the top of another.”

I make a noncommittal sound. “Pardon me. I must not have noticed in the heat of the moment. The woman’s neck was covered long before I reached her.”

She rolls her eyes, clearly not buying my shit. “Refrain from bringing old wars into my house, young Serpent. I’d hate to throw out any of your bids tonight.”

“You won’t,” I return, gesturing for a server to refill my gin.

“And why—”

“Because your husband can’taffordto.”

The look of indignation on her face is almost funny. If it lasted a second longer, I might’ve even laughed, but she soon wipes it away with a smirk. “That’s why you’re here tonight, yes? To piss off the House of Tyet? Harun was a fool to show his interest in her so early in the night.”

My focus returns to the stage, the next woman being led out for display. Her breasts are so large, they look disproportionate to the rest of her, and I imagine the strain that must put on one's spine.

“She is a divine creature, is she not?”

I stare at the large-breasted woman with indifference.

“Nother, Warrick. The Lily.”

Pictures of messy blonde curls, swollen lips, and cascading tears fill my mind. “She’ll serve her purpose.”

Julissa huffs to a stand before bending in close to my ear, her wine breath making it hard not to shove her away. “If you buy my Lily and then let her waste away in that dated mansion of yours, I will ensure the House of Tyet wins her tonight, no matter how badly my husband needs your blood money.”

My chuckle is anything but humorous, my hands fisting with the effort not to throttle her. When I turn, my lips brush her cheek, but only barely. A tease, a reminder. “I assure you, she will be put to good use, but you already know that, don’t you?”

Her gasp is soft, much like the ones I used to bleed out of her before I got bored, and she went back to playing wife. I was a teenager then, almost a man myself. Now, I find it hard to remember why I saw fit to fuck her at all. The years of alcohol and coke haven’t been kind to the woman.

“I’ll remember my manners going forward. You have my word, but if you don’t mind, I have some shopping to do.”

“Then best of luck to you,Basilisk.”

With that, I give the stage my attention again, my mind wandering to businessdeals and arms runs while a sea of red after red girls are paraded around like a morbid Miss Universe pageant. The room is filled with the most powerful men and women on the planet—not presidents or senators, but those who truly run the world. Out of the ten influential houses, four stand out at the center, the inner circle. Sex, drugs, weapons, and information are what we’re known for, our niche. Therefore, we have the closest any human can get to unlimited power. Here, in the House of Bloom, they control all leading hubs for human trafficking, specializing in training and selling sex slaves, shipping flesh around the world to be exploited and abused. These auctions are held yearly, where the best of the best are offered to the inner circle. House of Tyet, the treacherous bastard who has me wasting my weekend and money, controls and sells information.

The glass in my hand strains as I fist it, an old, festering anger building deep in my chest. Betrayal isn’t something our world takes lightly, something the inner circles frown upon. The fact that any wrong still exists, a wrong that hasn't been paid for in blood, keeps me awake at night, keeps that old wound from scabbing.

“Sold to Mr. Licard from the House of Ragnar! Excellent taste, as always, sir.”

The House of Ragnar has a hand in pretty much any memorable drug operation in the world, their pockets endless and their morals nearly as corrupt as the House of Bloom.

My house ring glistens in the dim light, twin serpents with precious stone inlaid eyes winding their way around crossed rifles. It’s the same emblem I stamped on the girl I’m here to steal away from Tyet—not because I want her, but because I make a point to schedule time to undermine them at every turn. This serves to annoy and piss off the house, but it also makes them look incredibly fucking stupid. It’s a public slap in the face. This auction is the event of events for the inner circle. It's where we come to network, to fuck, and to boast about all the blood money we’ve destroyed lives for. My house is no better. We specialize in weapons—dealing them, making them, hiding them. Sometimes, it's for our own government, who occasionally turn a blind eye to the number of slaughters they cause. Sometimes, it’s to threats overseas. It’s simply a different flavor of moral corruption.

We finesse and oftentimes downright obliterate the concept of wrong and right because it makes us money, and money makes, well, everything.

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