Page 37 of Shadow Kissed (Marked by Blood 1)

His hot breath hit my mouth as he inched closer, and I fought back the urge to gag and closed my eyes. The moment his lips touched mine, I snapped my teeth against his skin, piercing through his bottom lip. His blood spilled onto my tongue, dribbling out over my chin.

“Bitch!” he spluttered, stumbling back against the wall.

I smiled a bloodied grin. “Now you know how it feels being bitten, you evil fuck.”

He wrapped his fingers around my throat, digging his fingers into my windpipe. Blood poured through the gaping hole in his face, but unfortunately, it healed within a few seconds. Regardless, I basked in those few seconds of pain and embarrassment he felt.

“You’ll regret that.” He grabbed a fistful of my hair with his free hand, jolting my head back.

Throbbing pulsed into my soul as I struggled to catch my breath. “Better I be dead,” I croaked, “than in that auction.”

His forehead wrinkled as his light eyebrows pulled together. “You’re lucky you’re worth so much.” He released my hair, and a few strands remained tangled around his bony fingers.

“I don’t think you understand the definition of lucky,” I said breathlessly.

His nostrils flared. “I hope whoever buys you gives you what you deserve.”

My bravery slipped away as his words hit deep. I was about to be sold to one of them. As his fingers gripped into my arm, a move I was sure would leave a bruise, I glared at him. He untied the rope around my wrists, and I rubbed the red marks, rolling out the aching in my arms from having them pulled back for the past hour.

“I will make you pay for this,” I promised, rage roiling my words.

He scoffed, wiping his own blood from his chin. “It’s amusing that you think you have a future to do that.”

I gritted my teeth. If I made it out alive, I would ensure I kept that promise.

He dragged me from the room, and I didn’t bother fighting back. I needed to save my energy for when it really counted. If there was any moment of escape, I couldn’t miss the opportunity because I was weak.

It was hard to see anything in the dim, yellow light of the hallways, but I could see the glossy doors leading to more rooms like the one we’d just left. I’d become accustomed to the feeling of dread filling the building, so I didn’t bat an eyelid as more of it radiated from behind the doors. Instead, I focused on steadying my breathing, doing my best to ignore the emotions of what felt like a hundred mortals like myself.

A part of me wondered if Draven had been brought here or to an auction like it. I liked to think he wouldn’t have gone down without a fight. Still, as each day passed, the sickening thought became more real.: Draven would, statistically, already be dead if he hadn’t been killed immediately. But, unlike my mom and me, who were worth more alive, he was merely a thing to eat, and the best I could hope for was that he was enslaved somewhere. But was that really any better?

The cold air sank through my pores, numbing my cheeks as we walked up ancient, stone steps to the main event. Loud drumbeats resonated around the walls. Three rows of chairs sat in a semicircle, seating thirty or so vampires in front of a large stage. Blue velvet curtains had been pulled back, revealing their twisted source of entertainment.

Drummers played as I was led up to the stage. A woman wept into her palms as she was dragged from the stage, and I noticed on a whiteboard the wordsThirty-two years old.

I watched her flinging around as her dark hair spilled from a messy bun. One of the soul vampires took her, its long talons curling around her wrist. “Please, I have kids at home,” she begged through wretched sobs. She had a family back home, and suddenly the fight instinct kicked in. I focused on the creature pulling her from the room, praying to feel a shred of compassion or kindness, but it only had a lust to devour coiling around its center. That’s when I realized she wasn’t going to be enslaved. It was going to kill her, and soon.

“Don’t hurt her,” I found myself shouting, but not even one of them flinched. I closed my eyes, fighting to feel even a spark of power, but the necklace numbed it, pushing my magic deeper every time I willed it to come to the surface.

“Shut it,” the auctioneer snapped into my ear. A man cleaned the board as if the woman had never existed, replacing it with information about me. He wrote the wordsSorceress, Virgin, Age nineteen.

They’d gotten the virgin part wrong, but the rest was true. I supposed it made me more enticing to the bidders, which forced bile up my esophagus, burning my throat as it dawned on me. Being a prisoner or drinking from us wasn’t the only thing they could do to us.

“In case you decide to open that vile mouth of yours again,” the white-haired vampire said and pulled out the same fabric which had been strapped around my mouth before.

“No, get o—” My next words were muffled as he tied it a little too tightly. His grip tightened against me when he finished and sped me up the few steps to the stage.

I made sure to wear my most hateful glare as I was led out onto the center stage. The drums slowed to a lower, spacious tempo, amplifying the room's ambiance. The orange lights turned to a deep shade of crimson, casting an eerie glow over an already terrifying audience.

“This beautiful specimen comes from Baldoria.” The man’s voice silenced the chatter. “She is pure.” he promised. I shook my head, hoping any looking at me would know that was a lie. “She is submissive too.” Another lie. “Her blood tastes like euphoria, better than any drug, and you can have her use her magic to assist your needs if you wish. She wears an expensive, rare necklace around her neck that prevents her from using her powers unless it is removed by one of us. This will come with your purchase.”

One sangaree, a handsome man with dark eyes, wearing a leather jacket, sat slumped in one of the front seats. His gaze trickled over me, tilting his head as if that would somehow improve his view. He stretched his fingers over the arms of his chair as a cruel smile slowly spread over his face. Next to him, a muscular female sangaree watched the auctioneer, her eyes greedy.

The auction owner's snow-white hair shone down in a lock of silk down his back as he faced the bidders, telling them more delicious details of me, his words dripping like honey from his blood-soaked lips, lips I had bitten through less than ten minutes ago. The memory flickered some power to my center because I had, if only for a second, bested one of them. I made sure to stare directly at every single one of them, refusing to let my fear resign me into the prisoner they wanted me to be.

“Ten thousand stagma,” he announced, starting the auction.

I recalled my mom bringing home two thin silver coins to show me. She said they were the currency of Sanmorte and they were rare, but she’d found them on a raid of vampires hiding in some private club up north. She was often called upon by other guild branches to assist them. Her reputation preceded her, and I only hoped it helped her now that she was in their castle.

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