Page 6 of Fallen

So I’d have to win the bidding.

A human in a chic white dress, her auburn hair twisted into an elegant bun, walked to a mike on one side of the stage and aimed a practiced smile at us.

“Bidding starts at twenty-five thousand dollars,” she said in French. She nodded at Lainey Q. “Turn around.”

Lainey Q—or whoever the hell she was—turned to face us. Her mouth curved up, but her dark, feline eyes were dead. They traveled over the seated vampires, snagged on me and widened, then quickly moved on.

The auctioneer walked around Lainey, pointing out features like she was a prime piece of cattle—her silky skin, her youth, her obvious good health.

Something sparked way back in Lainey’s eyes. She lifted her chin and stared proudly back at us. So she hadn’t lost all her spunk.

Unfortunately, that made the roomful of blasé vampires sit up and take notice. My kind craves a challenge.

“Do I have a bid for twenty-five thousand?” asked the red-haired auctioneer.

A silver-haired vampire raised his bidding paddle.

I settled back into my armchair, biding my time. She shouldn’t have been up for sale. She’d made it clear she’d never be anyone’s thrall.

But now here she was, the main attraction at a blood-slave auction. The woman I’d do anything, pay any amount to have. And now someone with enough cash could take her and do whatever they wanted with her?

No. Fucking. Way.

She wasn’t leaving with anyone but me.

Another man, Nazaire, entered the bidding. Lainey’s price topped a hundred thousand, then two hundred, then five hundred. The silver-haired vampire dropped out.

Nazaire, the bastard, gave a smug smile.

I raised my paddle. “One million dollars.”

Nazaire’s smile withered. He turned heavy-lidded eyes upon me. Menace saturated the air.

I stared back steadily.

“Two million,” he ground out.

I lifted my paddle again without taking my eyes from Nazaire. “Four million.”

The auctioneer rubbed her hands together, a gleeful smile on her face. “Four million dollars. Do I hear four and a half?” She looked at Nazaire.

He glanced at me, jaw working. But I was the Maritime Syndicate heir. It would take a richer man than him to outbid me.

He shook his head at the auctioneer. “Non.”

“Anyone else?” When no one raised the bid, she nodded at me. “Sold for four million dollars to Prince Brien.”

Régis looked positively jovial. A large percentage of that four million would go into his treasury. At least it would put him in a good mood for tomorrow’s negotiations.

He gave me a sly, man-to-man smile. “Sheistasty, isn’t she?”

At my side, my fingers clenched. I grunted noncommittally.

Donotsmash your fist into his face. Remember the endgame.

Lainey stared down at the stage, fingers knitted together. She didn’t look proud now.

She looked…desperate. Resigned. And maybe a little afraid.

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