14
Cal
“So, what are your hobbies, Calloway?” a woman with a blue dress and friendly eyes asks kindly. “What do you like to do for fun?”
“Calloway is new to money,” one of the vampires named David interrupts with a sneer before I can answer back. “He probably doesn’t do much you’d be interested in.”
After seeing Romy enter the ballroom with a woman named Hillary sporting a smile, I knew she’d be a safe bet for easy small talk. And I was right. We picked up conversation easily, and for the last two minutes, she’s been doing a good job of keeping me busy.
It wasn’t until one of David’s friends started calling to her too that things got messy. Some prick named Miller joined, and then dickwad David, along with a woman named Whitney and three other vampires from whom I’ve yet to catch a name.
It’s becoming obvious by their smiles that they aren’t here to make friends with me.
“Good grief, these fucks,” Kane confirms in my ear. “This is a planned humiliation ritual. Or it’s supposed to be, if they weren’t so bad at it.”
Yeah, I verify to Rook. That makes sense.
“I suppose David is right, for the most part, Hillary,” I answer without shame. “I do work a lot. But my brothers and I are fond of hockey, and I rebuilt a Camaro last year that I drive on the weekends.”
“That’s really cool.” She smiles again, happy enough with my answer to ignore David entirely. I can tell from the flare in his fiery eyes that he doesn’t like the snub one bit. “I actually grew up watching my brothers play hockey, so I certainly understand the sport.”
Continuing the conversation is the natural next step, but when Romy’s shaking voice cuts in to my consciousness, I can’t hear anything but her. I’ve done my best to handle three conversations at once up until now, but at the fear in her voice, hers takes absolute precedence.
“What, exactly, is so appealing about buying a woman rather than wooing one yourself? Is it an ineptitude issue? A tiny dick thing? Or are you really just that self-important?”
Jesus, Romy. As soon as the words leave her mouth, I drop the conversation with Hillary and David and the others like a hot stone, dismissing myself as politely as possible.
“Excuse me for a second, Hillary…Whitney.” I don’t bother with the men’s names. “I’m afraid I need to step away for a minute.”
Hillary nods, though her smile falls a little, but I don’t have time to linger on it as I move.
Between one moment and the next, I find myself across the party to the group of three—Lucian, Nathanial, and Romy—and turning it into four. Lucian’s smirk tells me he’s not entirely surprised by my arrival, which puts me on edge from the start.
“Well, hello, Calloway,” he says, a peculiar smile curling his lip just enough to be noticeable. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m just mingling my way through the room, and this conversation looked like it’d be interesting to be a part of.”
“Oh, it is,” he agrees. “It is.”
“Romy Spencer, meet my nephew. Calloway Slater.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say innocently, begging my body not to betray me.
This isn’t the time to imagine my lips on hers or the feel of her hair sliding through my fingers.
This isn’t the time to picture her gasp as I touched my tongue to hers or the way her toes curled onto the wood floor as I climbed into the window toward her.
This interaction isn’t the time for any of that— not even close .
“Nice to meet you too,” she says back, following my lead dutifully.
Fuck. I’m beyond proud of her.
It’s nearly impossible to imagine how hard it must be for her to keep her composure, keep my secret, and work through the fear of trusting me all at the same time. This is an overwhelming experience for me—and I’m faster and stronger than she is by a thousand.
“Romy here was just challenging us to explain what makes the selection process superior to a traditional courting,” my uncle says, undoubtedly trying to stir the pot and angering Nathanial all over again.
“We don’t have to answer to you,” Rook’s deadbeat dad spits predictably, swinging his drink around with a meaty hand and calling more attention to the four of us than is necessary.
I call on Kane through Rook, scanning the room to give him some direction. Read some intention of the crowd around me, if you would. Things are feeling more tense than usual, and I need to keep my listening to the current conversation.
“Ah, yes. But wouldn’t it be better if we did?
” Lucian challenges with a contrarian smile.
“After all, I did challenge her to ask anything she wanted, and that’s what she’s done.
” He pauses and looks at me. “Cal.” The nickname feels foreign from him, so much so that it brings my brows together.
“Why don’t you take the honor?” he says then, catching me off guard and bringing the ball of power back into his court from this morning.
He’s forcing me to be something I’m not. Forcing me to play devil’s advocate by explaining this auction like it’s a good thing and doing it knowing I’ll put myself and Romy at risk if I don’t.
I can only hope she’ll see through the act enough not to lose trust in me and start believing I’m the monster I’ve promised I’m not behind closed doors.
“Of course.” My jaw grinds as I work to find the technical explanation with no rosy embellishments.
I find myself falling back on the textbook definition.
“Selection is…a long-standing tradition with roots in mutual respect and benefit. Some of the women back then—though of noble blood—lived a life of struggle and servitude. Vampires, likewise, found themselves powerless to control their lives or to better their families’ lives, and completely depleted of the most useful gifts and abilities.
A treaty was born. Vampires would be given access to the best blood, and in exchange, these noble humans would be given the means for a better life. ”
“Very good, Calloway,” Lucian praises, making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. My instincts are spot-on, of course, and he pushes harder, forcing me to go further. “And in this modern setting? Have we seen a benefit?”
“In some ways,” I force myself to agree. “The human families who once struggled are wealthy. The vampires who’ve partaken, the strongest.”
“Mmhmm,” he hums.
I work my jaw, willing my racing thoughts to calm. Romy’s eyes are wide and scared, and the sight of it makes me feel like I’m burning alive.
“That doesn’t make it the only way, though,” I find myself challenging. The compulsion to bring her back to center is too strong. “Not even close.” My uncle smirks, and Nathanial huffs. “But it’s tradition .” The word rolls off my tongue in its bitterest form.
A tradition that’s destroyed the entire equilibrium of the vampire race, mind you. One that’s born only male vampires into this world for the last few centuries—and caused the presence of female vampires to disappear almost entirely.
One that’s made an entire human bloodline go extinct.
One that’s brought pain and suffering and abuse and death to too many human women to count.
But yeah, tradition.
My uncle’s smile is smarmy as he inserts his own opinion.
“Romy, darling, I think you’ll find the selection to be the scariest part of the process, my dear.
All these vampires and so little autonomy.
I understand it must be unsettling for some.
But I assure you this is the very worst of it.
From here forward, you’ll find a height of purpose so tall you’ll lose track of the ground.
Adoration, gratitude, and absolute servitude from your mate.
This isn’t about blood in the end. But about an unbreakable bond and mutual benefit.
” He smiles. “Come. I’ll introduce you to a few gentlemen personally. Show you it’s not so bad after all.”
Romy’s eyes jump to me, a tell I can’t blame her for at all, as Lucian puts a hand at the small of her back and guides her away.
And Lucian meets my eyes with a twist of his waist, a smirk turning up the corners of his lips. It’s all the indication I need that he knows my interest in Romy exists—I only wonder if he knows to what extent.
Does he think I’m just smitten? Or does he sense the universal bond growing between us?
“Such a fucking Neanderthal.” Nathanial pokes at me, fiddling with the cuff links at the ends of his sleeves. “I still can’t fucking believe Lucian brought you here instead of killing you.” He laughs before downing his drink. “At least he killed mine.”
As he turns away on the brutally casual remark, Rook checks in. My mind has been open to his and Kane’s interpretation tonight, as discussed, and right now, I’m glad to have the extra ears.
Did he just imply I’m dead? Rook asks inside my mind.
That’s what it sounded like to me, I agree.
“Well, that’s real fucking interesting,” Kane remarks.
I agree. Interesting, indeed.
Does that mean Lucian is the only one who knows we’re all here? Rook asks, mirroring my own thoughts so exactly it’s as though he’s in tune with my mind. And if he is, why did he keep it a secret?
Neither of us answers. Because neither of us knows.
Focusing on Romy without making it obvious, I move to the bar and order another bourbon. I don’t intend to drink much of it, but the act of procuring it gives me something to do other than talking to other women or killing my uncle with my bare hands.
“Where are you from, Romy?” a vampire I know only by the name Julian asks, his tone both friendly and interested.
Too fucking interested.
“Um, Massachusetts,” she answers. “But the west side.”
“Ah, I see. Have you ever been to the Cape? Or Martha’s Vineyard?”
“Many times,” she says hesitantly, her voice shaking. “We vacationed there in the summer. My father loves to sail.”
“Incredible,” Lucian remarks, inserting himself like some kind of fucking matchmaker. “Julian owns homes in both places. I imagine you’d find a pairing with him quite comforting.”
“Oh Lucian, come on now.” Julian lets out a hardy-har-har chuckle like some rich prick. “A woman as beautiful as Romy here is bound to be the subject of many, many bids. I can only hope to be so lucky as to be the winning one.”
And his reply is enough to set me in motion toward them, consequences be damned. My uncle already knows Romy is a weakness. What the hell’s the difference?
“Easy, Tiger,” Kane warns in my ear. “Lucian is hoping you’ll approach—it’s practically hemorrhaging out of him—and Julian is harmless. Interested, yes, but I sense no real evil will. He’s here because he doesn’t know any better, but his intention is gentle.”
I pull to a stop and spin in place, meeting the eyes of a woman across the room. She startles at the contact. Just to the side of her, Nathanial and Cassian, my deadbeat father, watch me closely. With no other option, I call her toward me with just a nudge of my mind.
It’s the wildest shit I’ve ever done and feels wrong on every level.
For Romy’s benefit, I reach out with a statement of comfort for her ears only. “My uncle wants nothing more than for me to come running to you. I’m going to talk to someone else, just to look busy, okay?”
As I glance in her direction, she covers her mouth to shield her quiet reply. “Okay.”
Every second I’m not standing next to her feels wrong. And every fucking prick in this room looking at her feels worse.
“Tonight,” I tell her. “Be ready at your window. I’ll come to you again.”
Before I lose whatever control I have left.
I force myself to turn away from her, even as everything in me strains to cross the room, toss her over my shoulder, and remove her from this fucked-up place.
Because she’s mine to protect.
There’s absolutely no way I can fight it all night. I have to see her again.