8
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 na?ve 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 amazing talent 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? ”
“Yes.”
“Yes!”
“Of course.”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“Yes,” I agree to a chorus of similar responses throughout the room. It kills me to justify the edict with a response, but my uncle, I can tell, is listening specifically for my voice.
“Good. Brilliant. Now, let’s move on to the details of the auction, shall we?
” Lucian claps and smiles. “Two nights from now, we’ll convene in the viewing room in the east wing.
Your assigned seat will be labeled, and with it, you’ll find an iPad.
This is the device you’ll use to enhance your viewing of the women and where you’ll place your silent bid.
Each woman will be numbered randomly, and they’ll be presented in lots of ten, to keep the confusion and time to make a decision to a minimum. ”
Lots of ten. Like fucking cattle. I fight the urge to grimace.
But Lucian just keeps prattling on. “There are no secondary bids, so please, I beg of you, make your selection carefully and put your very best offer forward. If you’re outbid on your choice, you’ll be moved to the secondary selection lot with the remaining women, and the process will repeat until each match is made. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I say once again, my voice a small roar among a crowd of eager cheers. Every muscle in my body stands out in sharp relief, rage and indignation rendering them solid.
I swear to the end of the world and beyond, I will destroy this place and all the men who’ve condoned it.
“Fantastic.” Lucian smiles. “Before retiring to your accommodations tonight, you’ll be asked to sign a document at the door.
It’s your sworn agreement to these rules, a violation of which will remove you from your elite stature and exclude you from all auctions moving forward.
Depending on the severity of your violation, further punishment may also be deemed appropriate. ”
He nods toward the door, where his assistant stands and gestures for everyone to take note before we’re escorted out to our accommodations—otherwise known as the chateaus scattered across the far side of the property, each at least a mile away.
In addition to the sworn contracts we’re forced to sign, the Elite Council goes to great lengths to keep us separated from the women’s scents at night. Each of us is assigned one of the chateaus as a private residence for the duration of our stay.
It’s also where the bonding night festivities are meant to take place.
After that comes a polite little goodbye breakfast the following morning, where we’re expected to leave the estate with our new women and return to our lives in the real world.
“Good. Now I’d like to welcome Max Gustav up here to say a few words of thanks to the men who’ve made this possible.”
My uncle steps aside, and Max whoeverthefuck takes the floor, pulling a sheet of paper from his pocket to read a list of names like this is some sort of governmental press conference at the scene of a national disaster.
He hems and haws, and I close my eyes to log each and every name on my growing hit list.
Joseph Froth.
William Aster.
Hoyt Carson.
Lucian Wrath.
The list carries on for well over a minute before the president of the Council, Narris Novak, steps forward once again.
“Thank you, Max. Lucian. Gentlemen of the Council, and all of you here tonight—”
I jolt as a voice I recognize overpowers the ass-kissing being done by the president of the Elite Council and takes over my awareness.
“Cal, are you there? Can you hear me with those big-ass ears of yours, or did they cut them off?”
Relief, swift and unrelenting, hits me square in the face at the sound of Kane, my clowning, taunting, always playing brother…
alive and well and talking directly to me using one of the only advantages we have—my super hearing.
If I were with him right now, I’d kiss him on the lips for thinking of it.
The only problem, of course, is that my ability to listen doesn’t help at all with the part where I’m supposed to be answering him back.
I listen harder, hoping he’ll keep going without getting an answer from me.
“Yes, Rook, I know. Relax. I’m getting to it,” Kane says.
It’d be annoying to listen to their bickering right now if it weren’t so good to know that they’re together, alive , and sounding so much like themselves I could yell.
I don’t know if that’s by design or if they’ve managed to sneak a visit, but either way, it’s a small victory in an ever-deepening cesspool of bad news.
“Rook says to invite him into your mind,” Kane instructs.
Rook , I think.
“Okay, Rook says he can hear you.” Kane laughs. “Though, he says it’d be helpful if you thought about more than his name.”
“I didn’t say that,” Rook argues verbally with Kane.
“Yeah, but I could tell by the way you looked at me, you were thinking it,” Kane blathers on.
Rook, please , I interrupt again. Kind of multitasking right now, so it’d be great if we got to the point.
“Cal would like us to get to the point,” Rook tells Kane, which only makes him laugh.
“Right. Yeah. Well, there isn’t much of one…yet. I guess. We just wanted to see if we could get in touch with you and check that you were all right. Are you…all right?”
Fucking miserable and disgusted and crawling out of my skin, I answer. But yes. I’m fine.
“Good. We’re fine too. Bored as fuck and under lock and key, but fine. Kylie and Blair are hanging in there too.”
At the thought of their mates temporarily safe behind their protection and a locked door, all I can think of is my own. Romy .
Left to fend for herself while I fight the demons on this side of the mirror.
I could tell by the look on her face and the posture of her body tonight that she’s terrified.
Unlike many of the women here, she can sense the danger of the situation, and her trepidation only grows the longer the process goes on.
I can only imagine how frightening it felt to be locked into her room tonight, and I wish I could comfort her or send her some sort of—
“Who’s Romy?” Rook asks, startling me violently into my own brain. I immediately slam the door shut on our connection.
I’d like to use the excuse that I’m not used to having someone inside my thoughts as the reason for my slip of consciousness, but it was a rookie move at best. And with the stakes as high as they are these days, I need to be better.
I need to be on my fucking game, day in and day out.
“Romy? What do you mean, who’s Romy?” Kane asks excitedly.
I sigh heavily, trying to rein myself in when my uncle’s eyes land on me from the front of the room.
He’s watching me closely, and for the first time, I consider the idea that he might have some ability to read my thoughts or my intentions like my brothers.
He already proved in our cabin in Connecticut that his powers go far beyond those considered normal.
I don’t know if I could stop him if he can, but that doesn’t mean I won’t try.
Locking my brain in fortitude and metal bars and concrete walls, I shield myself with heavy armor and blind hope.
“Cal. His thoughts. He’s worried about Romy ,” Rook explains to Kane as I listen, relaxing my shoulders and loosening my jaw for the sake of my uncle.
“Ah, fuck, Cal,” Kane says, his voice annoyingly sympathetic. “It happened, didn’t it? It fucking clicked for you too. You saw your mate…oh wait… fuck . Your mate is in there? At the fucking auction? Oh, holy hell, and I thought Blair and I had shitty timing…”
I don’t answer, of course. Not only can I not, I don’t have to. They know—just like they knew for themselves. The universe has spoken, and there’s no going back.
“Fuck, man.” Rook is in my ear now. “I’m…sorry. Sorry that it’s happening like this, where you’re going to have to fight it so hard. But just…don’t do anything stupid, okay? We really can’t afford to have shit going even more off the rails than it already is.”
Yeah, I know , Rook, I open up my mind to him once more.
It’s all the confirmation I’ll give. The only concession I’ll make.
Because like it or not—Romy is the reason for my every move now, and saving this group of women from the fate of all the women before them is even more important.
She’s the key to my personal drive, and in all likelihood, the reason I’ll succeed.
The universe designed it that way.
Because when it comes to Romy Spencer, there’s no other option.
I won’t fail. I can’t.