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, thelingerie.
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 ourbonding nightoutfits, 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’scrazy!” 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…”
“What?” she asks, her eyes widening exponentially.
I nod. “Back when I was a kid. We…we went to a prep school together for a little less than a year. He’s obviously grown now.”So freaking grown it’s crazy intimidating. Tall, strong—unbelievably handsome.I swear Calloway Slater is cut from a God-tier cloth.“But yeah. I…I guess I didn’t expect that they’d be men who’d, like, walked among us before. My mom always talked about the elites like they were locked away somewhere in a gilded, exclusive town or something.”
“Did he talk to you? What did he say?” Hillary asks, her intensity growing with each word. But as Abigail approaches with a red teddy in hand, I make a conscious choice to shut my trap.
“Sorry. Later,” I whisper to Hillary. “But please don’t tell anyone.”
Something I can’t quite explain tells me not to say anything about this to a large group of women. Especially Abigail. She’s been nothing but friendly since I arrived, but there’s not a person in here she hasn’t talked to at least twice.Who knows what she’s sharing around when she does.
“Hey, guys!” Abigail greets cheerfully, clutching the tiny sheer dress she’s just picked out from a rack like it’s the best thing she’s ever laid eyes on. “Aren’t you going to go pick something? The selection is getting thin.”
Hillary nods, scurrying toward the rack at the news, and I shrug before following in her footsteps at a much slower pace.
