Page 97 of Surviving the Merge
“Seven hundred dollars!” someone countered.
Fuck. “Eight hundred dollars!” I said.
“Nine hundred dollars!” came from somewhere up front.
Pete snatched my paddle and yelled, “Fifteen hundred dollars!” I’m sure the people in the parking lot heard him.
“Fifteen hundred and fifty dollars!”
“Two thousand dollars!” Pete said.
I grabbed his raised hand and tugged it down. “Pete, how about we work with one hundred dollar increments, yeah?”
“Sold to the nice young man in the back!” said the auctioneer.
“We won, Mr. Justin! We won.” Pete jumped up and down.
His happiness was contagious, and I quickly forgot about the two grand. “You won, not me.”
“Well, it’s your money,” he said, apologetically handing me back the paddle.
“Hmm, I’m sure we could work out a fair trade.”
“Really? You really mean it?”
“I do, silly.” I ruffled his hair that he’d worked so hard to get back in place only a minute ago.
Damon stepped out, and something in my lower region shifted as he walked across the stage. A wolf surveying his prey. “Jesus,” I whispered.
His dark curls were slicked away from his face, but he decided to keep the stubble. I could clearly see the sharpness of his chin and his full, pink upper lip from where I stood. When his eyes finally landed on mine, they glinted. My dark wolf had found what he was searching for. His tailored, midnight-blue suit sat well on him, and when he popped the jacket button to push the ends aside and slip his hands in his trouser pockets, it drew attention to his immense cock, that even relaxed was quite impressive. He topped the look off with a simple black button-down shirt with cufflinks sparkling at the wrists. The top few buttons were open, revealing the tanned, smooth cleft at the center of his collarbone.
All around me, the bidding frenzy had started, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him. What was I thinking agreeing to this? I felt that old proprietorial side of me dusting itself off. I wanted to behead anyone or anything that believed they could have what was mine. I tried to calm down by telling myself it was more than likely the winning bid would go to some straight woman that had no clue Damon was gay. They’d have the most boring date, and he’d come home—to me.
“Two thousand dollars!”
“Twenty-one hundred dollars!”
“Twenty-one fifty!”
“Fifteen. Thousand. Dollars,” someone interjected.
The crowd roared. “Quiet please. Settle down everyone.”The auctioneer banged his gavel, trying to call order to the room as everyone whispered and turned in their seats to see who put in such an outrageous offer.
My heart thundered; the vibration reached my fingertips. The man stood, but from the back, I could only discern his tall, slim stature and light blond hair buzzed short on the sides. I cursed myself for not moving to the front earlier.
“Going once, going twice... Sold to Mister—?”
“Tristan Noble.”
“No. Fucking. Way,” I breathed.
25
Placing my keys in the porcelain bowl on the table in the foyer, I headed for the dining room. One of my favorite rooms in the Chadwick house. Drawn there because the windows allowed a perfect view of the full moon. Its glow was hardly enough to see by, but it gave me something to focus on.
The auction was the last event of the night. The auditorium had cleared out quickly with everyone making their way to their cars with their purchases in hand, and their bank accounts lighter than when they arrived. That left the five of us behind. Tristan Noble had made six.
I watched the moon now and thought back on my behavior. “Take your fucking money and get the hell out of here. If you think for one second that he’s going anywhere with you, you’ve been misinformed. The nerve of you to show up here,” I’d said. Not my finest moment.
