7
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… ”
“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.
I find a rack that’s largely deserted because it only has a few plain black pieces left and start sliding through them slowly. My hand shakes on each hanger as I move them from one side of the rack to the other.
Yikes.
Double yikes.
Ew.
I don’t really see anything other than thin lace and black, but I choose one for the simple fact that it offers a full-coverage panty.
Never, in my wildest dreams, did I think choosing something just because it wouldn’t show my actual vagina would be the safe option of the bunch, but here we are.
On shaky knees, I rejoin Hillary and Abigail and a group of other women whose names I can’t remember, and I tuck the corset and panty set over my arm like a waiter at a fancy restaurant would do with a napkin.
It’s really the only option since it’s a similar amount of fabric, and the more I hold it out and see it, the more I freak out in my mind.
“God, I can’t wait for tomorrow night,” one of the girls says, practically dancing in place.
“What’s tomorrow night?” I ask, kicking myself for avoiding the damn schedule they offered when they first took me to my room.
“It’s the co-ed mixer,” Abigail explains. “It’s the first time we’ll be in the room with all the men at once. Didn’t you read your schedule?”
Co-ed mixer? I almost want to laugh. Or cry. I don’t know. It’s all feeling very The Bachelor but with a lot fewer roses and a lot more blood.
“I forgot to take one,” I lie. Hillary smiles like she knows.
“Oh, I have an extra. I’ll grab it out of my room for you when we go back tonight,” Abigail offers.
“Thanks.”
“No problem.” Abigail smiles, and a little giggle escapes her throat. “Honestly, I can’t imagine I’d be able to properly pick out any of my outfits without the actual schedule!”
A bell rings over the loudspeaker, startling me entirely and sending the rest of the room into a round of applause. When it quiets slightly, a disembodied, rich, haughty male voice comes over the intercom.
“Ladies, thank you for a delightful opening evening of this year’s Selection.
We hope you’ve had a wonderful time convening with women of your equal tonight and cannot wait to meet you ourselves tomorrow.
Please dress in similar formal attire and be ready by six fifteen.
Security will escort you back to your rooms now.
Please, our darlings, rest well. For the rest of the weekend holds more excitement than you can imagine. ”
The whole group breaks out into a cry of cheers again, tittering and jabbering as we head toward the massive doors in one giant group.
I keep close to Abigail and Hillary as they move us through with a wave of their arms before closing and locking the doors to the ballroom behind us. Red velvet ropes stretch across the grand staircase to the left, as they usher us to the right and down to the other stairs at the end of the hall.
I crane my neck, trying to get a look up and into the roped-off area, knowing that’s where Cal went before, but when the rest of the group gets bunched up behind me, security gives me a stern gesture to move my ass.
“What are you looking at?” Hillary whispers, glancing over her shoulder just briefly as I link elbows with her.
“That’s where he went,” I say vaguely, hoping she’ll understand that I’m talking about Cal. “I think they’re all up there somewhere.”
“You think they’re…here? In the house?”
I nod, and her lips suck into her mouth with a healthy mix of fear and curiosity. My mixture leans a little more heavily toward terrified, but compared to the others, who are still gabbing like this is a day camp for wealthy girls, she’s practically panicked.
I can tell by the look on her face she’d love nothing more than to come to my room for a little while to talk, but the security ogres make it clear that’s not an option.
A guard stands by each of our doors, waiting for us to arrive before double-checking the ID bracelets they gave us and letting us inside.
It’s solo time, plain and simple. Or, you know, a fancy prison.
Abigail is far too gracious for my liking when she asks her guard for permission to come back into the hallway to give me a schedule. He nods, reluctantly, and she thanks him like he’s doing her a favor .
I can’t, for the life of me, comprehend how they got all these women so trained to think this is good. To have them thanking the damn security guards for allowing basic human rights!
It’s preposterous.
“Here you go,” she says, smiling brightly as she hands it over to me.
“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 me in ?”
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 for my protection?
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?