1001 Dark Nights: Bundle Forty-Five

Chapter 1

The Auction

Thirty years ago…

“I don’t know if I can do this,” I whispered to my best friend, Celine. Her silky black bob bounced when she turned her head to face me, concern taking over her pixie-like features.

“ Alana ,” she hissed low in her throat. “We have run out of options. Besides, Angus promised us a good pairing. We’ll have so much money after this we’ll be able to live the lives we want.” Celine glanced at the dozen women all dressed in lingerie standing in a straight line with us. Some of them wore completely see-through undergarments, putting every one of their physical attributes on display. Which, I guessed, was the point. The bidders needed to see our bodies to determine their preferences in a wife.

“I’m scared.” I shivered and rubbed my arms, tears filling my eyes.

“I am too. You’re not alone. Putting ourselves up for The Marriage Auction was not part of our original plans, but it fast-tracks everything . Gets us off the streets and out of the women’s shelters. Look at us. Did you ever think we’d see Las Vegas?” she gushed. It was the same tone she’d used when we arrived here along with the other women of varying ethnicities and nationalities from the streets of New York. Celine was full-blooded South Korean raised in America, whereas I was mixed-race, the daughter of a German-Irish father whom I’d never met and knew nothing about and a South Korean mother. There were thousands of mixed-raced children born after the Korean War, and I was one of them.

Both of us had been rejected by our families. Me because my mother was dirt poor and couldn’t afford to feed herself, let alone a child. She deposited me in an orphanage when I was twelve. At five years old, Celine was adopted by an American family who had been amazing…until they weren’t. It had taken me three years to make it to the United States. Three years of utter hell I didn’t like to think about. When Celine and I met, we were both fifteen and living on the streets of New York, panhandling tourists for their pocket change.

I shook my head and dropped my chin, letting my long black hair cover my heated cheeks. Embarrassment poured through my veins as I stared at the gaudy red satin nightgown they’d put me in. The lacy hem only fell to mid-thigh, leaving me feeling exposed and vulnerable. Though I shouldn’t have complained because it actually covered more than any of the others.

“Stick with the plan, Alana. Remember our dream.” Celine grabbed my hand and squeezed it tight, physically encouraging me through our bonds of sisterhood and solidarity.

I held hers as though my life depended on it. “I love you more than any other person in the entire world.” No matter what happened, I wanted her to know that she was loved. Our friendship was my most prized possession.

“You know you have the same from me. Just because we’re going to be married and separated for a few years doesn’t mean we won’t be in contact the entire time.” Celine pulled me into a hug.

I embraced the only person I had ever truly loved. Fear of what was to come had me trembling in her arms. “What if our husbands are mean men, like some of the others from before?” I swallowed against the lump of anxiety lodged in my throat.

She rubbed my back. “Then we’ll do what we’ve always done in those situations. Lie on our backs. Open our legs. Don’t cry. Stay quiet and pliant. Let them do what they need to do, then put ourselves back together one breath at a time once it’s over,” Celine responded very matter-of-factly before she dipped her head until our foreheads touched.

Celine and I had suffered through more horrors than we could list on each of our ten fingers. At least by going through the auction, we were guaranteed a high payout at the end of it. One that would give us not just money . Enough money to live lives of our own choosing.

“Who knows? Maybe we’ll get picked by our dream men. Oh! Maybe a Danish man. I’d love one of those big, hunky blond men with long hair and all those muscles.” She grinned, making light of an intense situation.

Celine was the most positive person I knew. It was her superpower. She’d been given nothing but garbage half her life but somehow still walked through each day with a smile on her face. I, however, did not have such an ability.

The lights dimmed suddenly, warning us that the show was about to start. I gasped and clung to Celine’s side.

I was terrified.

We’d been informed on the flight over that if we were lucky, we’d leave the auction on the arm of a rich bidder. We’d be whisked straight from the stage to a room where we’d dress and sign both a contract and a marriage license. Then we’d be taken to another location in the hotel where the wedding ceremony would take place immediately.

The entire process would take a matter of hours. Once completed, I’d have a hefty sum of money in a bank account set up for me to use at my discretion. I didn’t have a single penny to my name as it was, so the whole idea seemed unbelievable. Celine and I had given everything we had scrimped and saved to Angus to pay for the flight over and a guaranteed spot in the auction. Celine had suggested the bold move. One I was regretting with every beat of my heart as I stood half-clothed, cold, and scared out of my mind. At least on the streets, we were together and made our own rules.

The curtains opened and the first girl disappeared onto the stage. Right on her heels was the second and then the third.

“Promise me we’ll never lose touch?” I gripped Celine’s arm.

She kissed my cheek and looked me straight in the eyes as she put both of her hands on my shoulders. We could have been sisters with our shared South Korean heritage, our dark eyes, high cheekbones, small mouths, and magnificent shiny hair. Mine, however, hung down my back like an onyx-colored sheet of satin. Hers fell to her jawline, amping up her fairy-like quality.

“You are my sister. My best friend. The only way we’d lose touch is if there was no more breath in my body.” She held up her hand with her first and middle fingers crossed over one another. She placed those fingers in front of her heart in a silent vow I knew all too well.

That’s what I’m afraid of… I thought.

My bottom lip quivered as I set my spine straight, firmed my jaw, and clamped down on the nerves plaguing me. I took each breath slowly, in through my nose and out through my mouth. It was the same technique I’d used in the past before opening my body to a wanton suitor in exchange for money.

You’re an island, Alana, I chanted internally.

An unbreakable, impenetrable, fortress-wrapped island.

Untouchable.

My soul would forever stay pure, but I couldn’t say the same for my body. Unfortunately, I had many scars as witness to that fact.

Celine and I had developed a coping mechanism to manage our fears and physical responses to frightening stimuli. We’d imagine the island we planned to live on together one day. Surrounded by nothing but sand, sun, and ocean waves. Calm, quiet, and clean. That was our dream. To live together on a sleepy little island safe from all the evil in the world.

I watched as Celine plastered a smile across her pretty face and took the steps up to the stage. As I had for the last several years, I followed quickly behind her, keeping an even pace.

Fourteen of us were lined up like pets across the open stage. It seemed there was a woman from every corner of the globe. All shapes, sizes, and colors. I only guessed some of those countries were represented because I had a keen ear for language and had picked up on what had been spoken by each young woman throughout our six-hour flight to Las Vegas. I’d learned that many of them were models coming to the States to live “The American Dream.”

Our futures, however, were in the hands of Angus, his scary-looking staff, and the potential bidders. Once the plane landed, we’d hustled into a van with blackout windows and been taken to the hotel where we’d been given access to showers, a hot meal, and a piece of lingerie to wear.

Shockingly, we were treated better than I’d expected. No one tried to touch us inappropriately. The men didn’t leer in our direction while we were scantily dressed. They behaved like this was just a regular business day to them.

I stared down at my bare toes, distracting myself from the black void that I knew was an audience full of men, bidders hidden in the shadows ready to put a price on my head…if I was lucky. I could hear the clearing of throats, a few whispered words, chuckling, and various other sounds I couldn’t distinguish.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to our semi-annual auction,” Angus announced from the left side of the stage where he stood behind a microphone. “As you can see, we have prime stock for your viewing pleasure tonight.”

Applause rippled through the air, making me jolt to attention. I fisted my hands as Angus approached the first girl in line and handed her a large placard with the number one printed on it. He repeated this process until we all held a card. Mine read thirteen. Something I understood was considered bad luck in Western cultures. I didn’t care either way. It was just a silly number that didn’t mean much of anything.

“Number One, please walk to the center of the stage,” Angus instructed the first woman.

She was a very tall platinum blonde with blue eyes and pink cheeks. Her body was that of a ballerina—not much in the way of curves like my own shape even though I too was incredibly thin.

“This is Matisse. She is nineteen years old, French, and untouched .” Angus gave a wicked, smarmy smile. Most people considered those fake white teeth and his accent charming. No one knew what nationality he was, nor had anyone asked. He looked European with his dark, rather greasy hair falling in layers around his scruffy jaw. His lips were a thin, dry-looking line. He had a pronounced forehead with bushy, dark caterpillar-like eyebrows. The eyes though were what scared me. They seemed like endless voids of nothing. Pits of despair. He always spoke heavily accented English in what I’d have guessed was a Russian accent.

Thankfully, I’d learned English back in South Korea from my mother when I was a child, or I wouldn’t have been able to enter at all. I’d also attended free language classes offered by the shelter in New York to brush up on my skills.

There were five requirements to enter The Marriage Auction:

You had to be at least eighteen years of age.

You were required to speak English.

You could not have any children or attachments to your old life, such as a family waiting for your return.

You understood there was no backing out once you signed the contract.

And finally, you were obligated to do whatever your spouse asked of you, provided it didn’t endanger your life.

That was the part that frightened me the most: doing anything asked of me. Having been assaulted at a very young age, I was no stranger to the sick and twisted things men could come up with when they had the time, opportunity, and means. Though, according to Celine, what could they possibly do that we hadn’t experienced before? Or worse…

At least by participating in the auction, there would be an end in sight. A light at the end of the tunnel to look forward to.

We’d have hope again.

Angus had Matisse spin around to show her backside and the insides of her arms—I assumed to prove she wasn’t a drug user—then step back in line. This continued with the next girl and the next until it was Celine’s turn. I watched as she confidentially strutted to the middle of the stage, put a hand on her waist, and popped her hip out seductively. Then she slowly twirled around, jutting her small booty toward the audience and wiggling it to gain attention.

Several catcalls and vulgarities spilled from the dark void.

“Show us your tits!” one called out.

Celine, being Celine, plumped up her small boobs and jiggled them in what I guessed she believed was an enticing manner. Watching her made my stomach tighten and my mouth go dry. I had to control my breathing in order to not vomit. There was no way I could put myself on such display.

Eventually she sashayed her way back to the line. Her eyes went wide in my direction, and she blew me a kiss as she got back into position.

“Our next lovely morsel is Alana. Eighteen years of age and of mixed race. Half German-Irish, half South Korean, and get a look at that mouth. Soft and sensual as a peach. As you can see, she’s a beauty and docile as can be,” Angus prattled on.

I loathed stereotypes and labels. I was only “docile” as he put it, because I was desperately trying to keep calm. Not a single woman up here wasn’t scared out of her mind, but the reward was supposed to be worth it. My future depended on it.

I walked slowly to the center of the stage and let my arms hang loosely at my sides, not knowing what to do with them.

“ Mon coeur .” My heart. A deep, cultured male voice pierced through the invisible mask and shield I had mentally put in place. I looked down toward the audience, foolishly attempting to make out the man behind such kind words. I couldn’t see anyone through the stage lights clogging my vision, but I could feel him.

I felt his gaze upon my form like a gentle breeze coating the surface of my skin.

“ Si belle. ” So beautiful , he said as though the words were pulled straight from his soul.

I held my breath, let my mouth fall slightly open, and licked my lips, imagining Prince Charming coming to save the princess from the forces of evil.

“ Mon Dieu. Elle est parfaite.” My God. She is perfection.

I gasped at what the unknown man said. A warmth the likes of which I’d not felt in longer than I could remember spread through my veins. No one had ever called me beautiful in that breathy, worshipful manner. The voice and the language were French. Celine and I had spent every day learning to speak as many languages as possible. It had been a game to us. I wasn’t fluent by any means, but I could carry a conversation with someone who spoke the sing-song language.

“Girl, I said turn around. Number thirteen! Alana!” Angus clipped, anger fueling his tone.

I snapped to attention as I must have missed his verbal cues, my focus coming back to the moment and not the man with sweet words. I gave a half-smile and slowly turned around until I faced the front, then I walked back to my place in line.

The last girl was announced, and then the feeding frenzy started.

“Now that you’ve seen the quality of such treasures before you, it’s time to start the bidding. Number One, please approach the center of the stage once more. Let me remind you all, she is untouched . Pure. Her virginity comes at a high price.”

The audience members started to chatter, sounding like a herd of wild animals ready to be let out of their cages. My stomach clenched, my palms became clammy, and my heart beat an erratic rhythm behind my chest.

“Let’s start the bidding at one million dollars…”