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)
Nathanial, Cassian, and Ronan—the other three Wrath brothers—stand at the glass like the rest of the older elites, far too absorbed in their own appraisal of the women below to notice anything else happening in the room.
Most of the men their age are the same.
Which isn’t exactly surprising. Any vampire who finds himself back here at their advanced age—needing to purchase another woman after whatever he did to the last one—clearly isn’t known for restraint or conscience.
The thought alone leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
The younger elites are a different story. Many of them watch me openly, their eyes flicking over my suit, my posture, my background—judging every inch of my presence here without even attempting to hide it.
If I open my mind to the noise of it, I can hear the assumptions forming in real time. Speculation about why my uncle brought me here. What role I’m meant to play.
But the most surprising part of it all? None of them actually seems to know.
Assumptions they’ve made? Aplenty. But real information? That’s largely lacking among the entire crowd.
And that makes me even more interested in my uncle, his motives, and what the hell my brothers and I have managed to get ourselves involved in.
I have a really bad feeling that we’ve just barely scraped the surface.
Romy
My whole body trembles as I’m ushered back into the ballroom by security, and the door closes behind me in such a dominant way it’s clear that even if I tried to fight him, he’d force me inside here.
I’m overwhelmed, to say the least, so much so that my brain doesn’t even know where to start.
The sight of Calloway Slater…here—at a vampire auction designed to bid on women like me, so they can have the best selection of human blood possible.
The reaction of security when they saw me talking to Cal outside the bathrooms and how it wasn’t allowed.
The feeling of someone watching me so intently it burns.
The presence of a whole big-ass group of men, like Cal but potentially worse, somewhere in this palatial mansion that we don’t know about.
And last but not freaking least, the lingerie.
The racks and racks of lingerie that now stare back at me from across the room.
I lick my lips and swallow hard as I rejoin the group of women, the majority of whom have fallen like vultures onto the rolling racks to pick out their negligees with excitement.
There’s even a little bit of bitching and arguing over the most-wanted pieces, and my stomach turns over on itself at the sound of it.
Abigail is deep in the thick of it, so I linger in the back, hoping to spot another familiar face or see at least a flicker of someone else who doesn’t think this is the greatest day of her life. I know I’m right to be on edge, but with the way everyone else isn’t, I feel a little insane.
Thankfully, Hillary finds me before I can find her, and while it’s only a small balm on an oozing, festering wound of anxiety, it’s at least something.
“Hey, you okay?” she asks.
I don’t know how it’s possible, but it feels like I shake my head and nod at the same time, the flurry of a feeling I’ve never, ever had before invading my entire body. It’s need and unease and an overwhelming sense of incompleteness. “Yeah. I’m…yeah. I’m fine.”
Poor Hillary would only be confused, even if I tried to name the real emotions running through me right now, so I settle for being vague. It doesn’t help her understand either, but she must be a good person because she smiles anyway.
“You missed the spiel while you were in the bathroom,” she updates. “They said these are our bonding night outfits, hand-selected by the men themselves for us to pick from. That got a lot of the girls wondering if whichever one they pick will have something to do with who bids on them. Like a kismet sort of thing?” She shrugs and then links her hands together, picking at the cuticle of one thumb with the other.
“How come you’re not choosing yours?” I ask, using her nervous behavior to ground my own.
She hesitates for a brief moment but then lowers her voice to a whisper. “I don’t know. I guess I will at some point. It just…seems a little weird.”
Thank God. Someone with normal thoughts!
“Okay, right? It is weird. It’s…it’s crazy!” Her chin jerks back at my zeal, so I clear my throat and try to dial it back. “Sorry. I just… I’m overwhelmed. I don’t really understand the thrill of the whole thing in the first place, and…” I lower my voice to a soft whisper. Hillary reads my intention and moves closer. “Out there…when I went to the bathroom. I…ran into one of the vampires. And he’s someone I used to know…”