Page 3 of Worth

“That cherry is mine,” he grunts, slinging his arm over my shoulders as I try to squirm away. “And the first time that virgin cunt comes for me will be on my dick. I’ll talk to Dad about it when he gets home later. I won’t let him sell you,” he promises.

I stop trying to twist out of his grasp, and he keeps me locked against him the entire forty-minute drive from the Cordele—the City of the Dead—back to the Vetella estate. Not being sold is my number one priority. If it means I give Mordecai my body, then so be it. If only it didn’t also mean that I was stuck in the Vetella household.

When Stephen finally does come home, hours later, I’m perched in Mo’s lap wearing nothing but a bra and panties. His fingers idly stroke my pussy through my underwear. There’s a damp spot on the jeans he changed into when he ordered me to strip off my dress and wouldn’t let me put on any more clothes.

“What’s this?” Stephen asks, anger obvious. My stomach somersaults while I avoid looking at him, the intimidation in his tone driving my instinct to run.

Mo glances at him from the TV and back. “I want Blake,” he replies without a trace of concern. “I’m taking her.”

“The hell you are,” Stephen hisses. “I’m not even taking her. I have several buyers vying for her because she’s a virgin. She’s worth more than her whore mother was.”

Both Mo and I turn to him with matching expressions of surprise. “How do you know I’m a virgin?” I choke out.

“Giselle told me,” he answers, waving his hand in dismissal. “Auction is set for later tonight.”

I grip at Mo’s arm—the one wrapped around my waist—and plead at him with my eyes.

His jaw twitches, staring back at me. “I’ll match the highest offer.”

Stephen shakes his head. “No.”

“Dad—”

“Mordecai,” Stephen snaps. “Enough. The girl goes.”

The way Mo stands is so abrupt that I don’t expect it. I land on my ass as I’m dumped onto the carpet.

“Fine,” he snarls. “Of course you won’t let me keep her. You don’t let me keep any of the ones I really want.”

Stephen sighs and walks across the room to his son. I scramble out of the way, huddling against the wall. With a sad smile, Stephen grabs either side of Mo’s face, drawing his head down to kiss his forehead.

“Son, you get too attached to your pets. Every time one dies, you’re devastated for days.”

A chill runs down my spine as I process that, my breathing becoming shallower. My eyes dart between the now-embracing father and son and the doorway. While both are still occupied, Mo lamenting to Stephen about how he thinks I would survive longer than the others, I silently crawl on my hands and knees toward the doorway.

I fix my eyes on the hallway. If I can make it to the doorway, I can escape the house. I don’t know where I’ll go or how I’ll get there, but anything has to be better than being auctioned or dying from whatever happens to Mo’s ‘pets’.

I don’t make it out of the room. A kick in my side leaves me winded, rolling me across the floor. Stephen jerks my head up by my hair, snarling obscenities at me. His hand swipes sideways, aimed for my neck.

The last thing I see before his hand connects with the side of my neck and I blackout from the hit is Mordecai standing over his shoulder, his lip moving.

“Sorry,” he mouths.

When I wake up, my arms are stretched up above my head, numb and aching. My vision is blurry and I blink a few times to clear it, unsure of where I am or how I got here. My hands tingle as I stumble upright, relieving the pressure of the rope around my wrists.

It takes a minute for the noise to settle in; to focus on what I’m hearing.

“Sold to bidder number twenty-four!” a voice barks.

Shit.

My vision clears and I can see the crowd in front of me—men and women murmur to each other, pointing at me and around me. I glance to either side, seeing others hanging from their wrists as well, and pull on my bindings. They don’t budge in the slightest.

“Last but not least,” the same gravelly voice calls out, “we have a seventeen-year-old female—eighteen in a few days. Still pure, as confirmed by our physician.”

I let out a little yelp as a spotlight flashes onto me, illuminating my pale skin, only covered by the same bra and panties I wore when Stephen knocked me out. I draw back as far as the rope holding me will allow. When the hell had they done an exam? A wave of nausea washes over me as I realize the exam must have been done while I was unconscious. A hushed murmur sweeps through the crowd.

“Bidding is reserved for her virginity only,” the voice continues, clearing their throat. “Winning bid will receive twelve hours with the girl, which is ample time to break her in.”

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