Page 25 of Auctioned

A monster’s lips.

“Not to mention what?” Another kiss from him, and I’ll lose this battle. I have to keep him talking. Have to keep my sanity intact. “What, you sick fuck?”

His dark chuckle pushes the air out of my lungs. Heat creeps up my neck. Damn it.

“We’re in business with every person who counts in this country. The government. The Feds. The local authorities. The Mafia.” Such conviction in every word. Such vehemence is his hushed voice. “No one wants our operations to stop. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”

He’s serious. He and Topher weren’t drunk or high or playing a sick roleplay game.

They’re human traffickers.

“You kidnap women?” I’m breathless. My blood runs cold in my veins. “Kidnap and sell them?”

“Not always.” He grinds his hips into me. James is hard. Huge. Hot for me, despite the cold façade he maintains so well. “The rest of the time, we auction off women who come to us.”

Another roll of his hips and a moan nearly breaks out of me. Fuck, it was a close one. Fuck, he feels good.

“Most of them offer themselves to the highest bidder for an hour or a day. A month. Sometimes a year.” Pulling on my hair, he flips me and manhandles me until my head is on the pillow. His forearms bracket my face. His eyes terrify me. “We have an organization that handles the auctions and the girls. People who follow them. Watch over them. Record their…interactions.”

“I’mnot here willingly.”

The pressure on my wrists has been lifted. While I’ve been lost in his explanations and my fear, James has slipped a pillow underneath my back.

“The…virgin sacrifices…never are.” There’s something he’s hiding from me, I can tell. Problem is, I can’t bring myself to care right now. To ask him to elaborate “They serve a purpose. Once the Hawthorne and Morgan’s sons turn twenty-one, the ritual starts with the virgins.” His thumb brushes the hair that’s stuck to my cheek, his gaze never leaving mine. “Luring them, tricking them, then auctioning them. Those steps are a part of the rite of passage for the men in our families. A show of commitment tothe cause. It reminds us of who we are. What we do. That’s what makes the sacrifices so valuable in the eyes of our buyers. That’s why they sell for millions.”

Sick. Everything about this is absolutely fucking sick. What’s sicker still is that I’m not scared.

Nothing about James screams impatience or murder.

His voice is cool and calm. Lips relaxed. Forehead smooth. My questions don’t bother him. He’s offering me explanations when I’m just a piece of property to him. An artifact to put up for sale.

Liar.

This has to be another trick.

“And you’re telling me this, why?” I try to wriggle out of the zip ties.

The movement lands me a harsh glare, and it gets me nowhere. The plastic isn’t cutting into my skin, but there’s no way I’m getting out of it.

“Tomorrow night, you and another girl will be standing on a stage. A man or a woman will take you home later. You’ll be theirs for life.”

His hand slides to my throat. Another manacle. Another soft touch to keep the merchandise intact.

“Fuck you.” The reality of my situation settles in. I’m terrified. Even my voice doesn’t sound like mine. “Fuck you for doing this to me.”

“You have to be prepared. For your own good.” His glare is harsher now. The hint of compassion in it has withered and died. “Screaming and crying on stage will attract the wrong type of buyer.”

“You said you watch over the girls,” I whisper.

“Not the virgins.” A storm gathers in his eyes. “In case one of the men in our families grows attached and tries to get them back. Which, for the record, never happens.”

Everything about him is harsher all of a sudden. Rougher.

The idea of getting attached angers him.

“You might grow attached to me.” Down there, somewhere, he has a heart. I’ve watched glimpses of it. That’s the man I’m reaching out to. I hope he hears me.

“It’s better that you let me go. I’ll disappear. Promise.”Not before I burn this place down and hopefully save the other woman. “Please, James. I-I’m begging you.”

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