Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 61523 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61523 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
Even if it’s an empire.
Calloway Slater is quiet, methodical, and the kind of man who makes his living tearing things apart with steady hands and zero hesitation.
But in the last two weeks, things have taken a dramatic shift.
His brothers are mated.
The Elite Council of Vampires wants them dead.
And their uncle is playing a dangerous game Cal doesn’t trust.
Now, because of an ultimatum, he’s standing at the auction—as a participant.
As vampires gather and naïve human women swoon, Cal races the clock to bring the whole thing down before it’s too late.
But when he meets the eyes of beautiful Romy Spencer in the middle of it all, the bond detonates.
Suddenly, this isn’t about survival.
It’s about her.
And if saving Romy means reducing the elite empire to rubble—or getting killed in the process—so be it.
Because once destiny ignites, Calloway Slater doesn’t surrender.
He destroys.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Calloway
My presence in this room alone makes me feel complicit in an act so evil, it should earn a one-way ticket straight to hell.
A man I barely know sits beside me, watching from the corner of his eye as women are paraded across the room like products in a commercial.
It doesn’t matter that this stranger calls himself my uncle.
It doesn’t matter that his bringing me here may have saved my life.
What matters is the demeaning, objectifying, downright degrading scene that plays out in front of me.
Woman after woman in skimpy lingerie is brought through a door and guided onto a raised platform in the center. White numbers sit in front of them like lots in an estate sale.
Some smile and strut, while others do their best to maintain their composure under the bright, blinding lights.
I sit behind a one-way mirror alongside one hundred other male vampires waiting to place a bid on the woman of their choosing via an iPad system designed to maintain fairness and “order.”
My skin crawls with discomfort and disgust, but to these men, this is normal.
Though, the real match strikes when she completes the line, stepping up to the left side of the platform and squinting into the light.
Auburn hair, black lingerie, and sweet cerulean eyes form a picture built for illicit temptation, met with the men’s cruel indifference to the fear trembling through her body.
And when I see her hands shake, a silent scream begs for freedom from my throat.
She’s not the only reason I’m doing this—far from it.
This is a moral imperative. A change to the way my fellow vampires live and the special relationship we have with humans. This is a reckoning for the good of the world and for the safety of women who’ve been used for years.
This is justice.
This is a revolution.
But she—Romy Spencer—makes it personal.
When I’m done with this place, every one of these monsters will beg for mercy while my brothers and I make sure they burn—no matter what it costs us.
Romy
The dullness of distraction grays my normally cerulean eyes in the big mirror of the Neiman Marcus bathroom as I wash my hands.
Outside the door, my mother waits impatiently to shop for my funeral.
“Romy! Hurry up,” she commands, peeking her head in.
“Okay,” I agree complacently before mumbling my dissent under my breath. “It’s not like it’s a normal bodily function to have to pee or anything.”
Or like it’s not outrageous that we’re celebrating this shit anyway.
It’s not that I’m afraid to stand up for myself—it’s that I’ve been trying that to no avail for far too many years. Truly a futile endeavor at this point.
Snatching two paper towels from the holder and drying my hands, I sidle out of the bathroom with dread.
Of course, my mother has my elbow in hand before the door closes behind us, and we’re on the move again.
We’re closing in on hour three of shopping, and as of yet, she’s not happy with anything. It’s too modest. Too slutty. Too polyester, too pink, too blue, too fricking human.
I tried reminding her that’s what we are, but she wasn’t thrilled with that brush with reality. For her, being called to this assignment is as close as you can get to nobility, and that requires a royal outfit befitting Princess Kate.
“You leave for New York tonight,” she blathers, working herself into a fluster all over again with clout-chasing excitement. “If we don’t find something here, I don’t know what we’ll do.”
“Hey, I know!” I snap excitedly. “I’ll just skip it. I’m too young to die anyway.”
“Romy Spencer, stop it right now,” she barks. “Stop complaining about this privilege and belittling the process that’s been very important to our family for generations. And for the love of God, stop referring to it as your funeral. You’re on my last nerve with that one.” She lets out a long sigh. “Let’s not forget that, despite my better judgment, I let you skip the Choosing Mixer.”