“Thanks, Abigail.”
Hillary glances back from her spot down the hall before going into her room, and I give her a subtle nod to confirm we’ll figure out another time to talk.
“Go on,” the security guard urges when I guess I linger just a little too long. “To your room, please.”
I swallow hard before nodding and complying, walking swiftly down the long, wood-walled, vaulted hall to the very end. My room is the last on the left, and at my door, security is ready and waiting. I pause briefly to scan the two-story ceilings for something nefarious like cameras or hidden doors, but when I come up empty and my guard starts to frown, I step inside.
He pulls a key out of his pocket as he’s closing the door, and a wave of panic so strong I can’t fight it washes over me. “Um, excuse me? What are you doing? Are you locking mein?”
His smile is not at all comforting as he snorts. “Trust me, honey. I’m doing this for your protection.”
Without waiting for a reply, he shuts the door in my face and turns the lock with a click, and my throat closes so hard I can barely find the air to breathe.
Locking me in formyprotection?
No free will whatsoever?
Another party tomorrow night, but this time, add in some vampires?
Ha. Ha-ha-ha.
Dear God. What in the world have my parents gotten me into?
Cal
As the women leave the room following the announcement from the president of the Council, I walk away from the mirror and loosen the knot on my tie slightly. The choker is uncomfortable for a blue-collar guy like me on a good day, but here, it feels even more like a noose.
It’s a symbol of how trapped Lucian has me, the feeling tightening with every minute that goes by without a plan.
In addition, the energy it’s taken to avoid watching Romy for the rest of the evening since returning from the bathroom has damn near depleted me, and no matter how twisted it may sound, I’m relieved to have her and the rest of the women on their way to be locked in their rooms.
A precaution—along with having a gofer security guard outside each and every single door, my uncle explained earlier—that is taken to keep the men from losing control and sullying the women or their blood by claiming it too soon.
Because a sense of propriety and moral conscience here are not enough in a group of wild animals.
There are no words to describe the depravity they flaunt as tradition. There are no words to describe the damage I want to do because of it.
“Gentlemen!” my uncle calls over the din of discussion among the others. “Please, if everyone could convene for just a moment, we’d like to go over some housekeeping business about tomorrow night and the auction itself.”
Taking a sip from my bourbon, I linger to the side while the others make their way toward the Council members, who are all lighting cigars and taking celebratory puffs like they’ve just signed a multimillion-dollar corporate contract or welcomed a baby into the family.
Cassian, Nathanial, and Ronan pull their own cigars from their pockets and light up, having been through the selection process before and obviously knowing it was coming.
I swallow around a knot in my throat and do my best to listen for Romy—to hear anything I can from her room—but come up empty.
The seclusion of the women, I suppose, is a technique born of years of practice as well. Most rebellions find their strength in numbers, and if they’re alone, they’ll do a hell of a lot less talking. I don’t know how many other vampires here have a gift like mine, but I’m not naïve enough to assume I’m unique.
Hopeful, sure. But not stupid.
“Thank you, everyone, for a great opening night,” an older man my uncle introduced earlier as the president of the Elite Council announces with a smile. “I hope you’ll recognize the amazingtalent we’ve gathered this year and thank the men you’ve chosen to do your groundwork appropriately.”
There are several cheers of recognition and agreement, and Lucian steps forward to take the figurative pulpit from the president.
“Thank you, Narris,” Lucian says before looking out toward the crowd. “And thank you, everyone, for being here. As is tradition, it’s my job to ready you for what you’ll be seeing over the next couple of days and explaining how it works. Tomorrow night, we’ll be mingling with the women in the lower ballroom, and you’ll get your first chance to learn a little about their personalities, as well as get a closer inspection of the allure of their blood.”
Excitement rolls through the men in front of me in a terrifying wave, and it’s all I can do to keep my fist from shattering my glass.
“Yes, I know.” Lucian chuckles. “It’s very exciting, and the temptation will be high. But that’s why I must caution you that at this stage of the process, physical contact with the women is strictly forbidden. No touching. No kissing. And absolutely no tasting. The sanctity of their purity and our obligation to a smooth bonding night process requires this control from you. I trust I have all your good word that you’ll uphold this rule?”
