44. Aurelia
Chapter 44
Aurelia
I ’m wheeled off the bright stage with confusion roiling in my belly. The bidding had gone as expected, but I’d not anticipated so many anonymous bidders. I don’t remember any from Scythe’s auction, and it unsettled me not knowing which parties wanted a piece of me.
It’s dark as Ghoul flexes his fingers over the controls and wheels me behind the stage to a different room. He then leans into the cage and takes the ball gag out. I lick my dry lips, making him stare.
“Like what you see, basilisk lord?” I purr.
He flashes a fang at me before hopping down, violently jostling the cage. I swear under my breath as those awful spikes puncture my skin.
“Close ranks,” Ghoul snaps. “We can’t hand over the goods until money is exchanged. Until then, guard her with your lives, because if anything happens to her, that’s what I’m taking from you.” For the first time since the start of this whole event, he leaves my side.
The serpent militia closes in around me, facing outward with their guns. Immediately, they begin gossiping.
“We’ll find out who it was soon enough,” says a loud voice. “Settle down.”
One of the guards lowers her hood and I’m surprised to see a familiar face. It’s Natalia, a serpent I’d grown up with. I’d also released her when Scythe, Savage and Xander held her captive for days. For all intents and purposes, she’s still my enemy.
“I bet you’re enjoying this,” I say, gesturing to myself.
Natalia shrugs, though her face bears no emotion. “A little.”
It’s fair. Her friends are dead because of me. Sure, they’d kidnapped me first and attempted to torture me before Xander came and off’ed them, but they’re still dead.
“Do the terms include her getting pregnant?” asks another female voice, hooded, so I can’t see her face.
“Wait, so this auction wasn’t to keep her?” asks one.
“No, you idiots,” Natalia says. “It’s just for the duration of her heat. The whole point of it is so they can use her to repopulate the dying species. Why do you think Damien Agnis was so excited?”
More murmurs.
“That much money for a week is insane.”
“Well, if they get her pregnant, she’ll be out of action for nine months,” Natalia says. “So really, they’ve paid for nine months.”
I blink dryly at her, my insides burning like they’ve been scraped with sandpaper down to the quick.
I’d asked for this. I’d signed up for this. I only have myself to blame.
A commotion outside stops my thoughts in their tracks.
“The beast that comes through that door is the man who’ll be attempting to impregnate her,” one of the generals says, hoisting his gun up more securely. “Look alive, lads. Here comes a wealthy bastard.”
Except when the door slams open and the sounds of Damien Agnis and The Collector shouting become deafening, it’s Xander who stalks through it.
I sigh, the tension in me suddenly whooshing out. “Well, who is it, then?” I ask impatiently.
“It’s him !” Damien answers my question, storming in behind Xander. “You fucking cheat!”
Xander freezes mid-step. Except it’s less of a freeze and more of a predator’s stillness. He swivels around on his heel and steps towards Damien. They’re both tall, being mythic shifter males, but Damien is two inches shorter than Xander’s near seven feet. As a result, when Xander steps chest to chest with Damien, he’s looking down into the phoenix lord’s upturned face.
The old bird goes as pale as his white blazer.
Everyone in the room goes deathly silent as Xander snarls in the softest, most lethal of voices, “Call me that again, phoenix swine, and I’ll finish Lyle Pardalia’s hack job.”
Xander talking nasty to me is one thing, but Xander talking nasty to Damien Agnis is like music to my sore ears.
“Hear, hear,” I say, slapping my bars.
Natalia and several of the serpents give me sidelong looks that tell me I must be mad. Other beasts have entered the room behind them—Flores, Mace Naga, the auctioneer, and some of the other bidders, their faces a combination of anger and surprise.
“See that?” Xander snarls, pointing at my gold collar. “That means I can do whatever the fuck I want. And if I paid for it, I fucking own it.”
I have to stop my mouth from gaping open. Xander was the winning bidder.
The auctioneer shrugs. “Unprecedented, perhaps, but there are no rules against it.”
Flores is looking at his son like he wants to strangle him. I suppose he will, when they get home. They won’t make any money this way. The auctioneer shepherds the rest of the beasts back out, leaving Xander and a lingering Mace Naga.
“There will be consequences for this,” Mace says quietly. “I have my money, so I’m settled. But the others…”
“Like you said, Mace,” Xander drawls, not looking at him, but striding towards me. “You have your money. I’m leaving.” The serpents part, and Xander gestures in annoyance with a hand. The door creaks open.
“Out.” It’s a raw command.
He doesn’t have to tell me twice.
“Aw, just when I was getting used to it, too,” I say, gently extracting myself from between the various spikes and stepping out onto the first step.
Xander snarls at me, flicking his wrist as that golden chain snaps into place at my collar again. With another wave of his hands, both sets of shackles fall off.
I sigh in relief before he turns around and yanks me forwards. I go stumbling after him, the serpents all blinking in shock at the sight.
Allowing myself to ascend out of the cold of my great white, my emotions come back like the crashing of cymbals.
What exactly does he intend to do with the thing he purchased for twenty-five million? And what the hell? I knew he had money, but this kind of money?
“You’re rich , rich,” I say.
That gets a reaction out of him. He stops and whips around, glaring down at me with those white eyes.
“I’m Xander fucking Drakos,” he says, before turning back around and continuing on.
Some of the uncertainty and confusion lifts then. This is an ego thing. A dragon-sized ego thing.
Someone isn’t in control of his dragon.
Xander whips around for a second time and I realise with a gasp that I’ve said that last part out loud. He points a finger at me, his mouth pressed into a hard line. “Don’t fucking start me, Spawn.” He turns back around and I jump at this new shiny opportunity.
“Well, you paid twenty-five mil for me. I suppose you can call me what you like for a little while.”
Black smoke filters through the air as we get outside and I’m amused by the difference in the way I’m leaving the building compared to how I went in. Does my father not care anymore now that he’s got his money?
That stings a little, I’ll admit.
“What song were you listening to while you were bidding for me?” I chirp, padding after his long strides through the concrete car park. “Candy Shop?”
He makes a very dragon-like snort, and smug as a bug, I smirk into the night air. “What if someone steals me out here?” I muse. “There’s not as much protection.”
Black smoke streams out of Xander and the voice that comes out of him is loud, guttural, and deep. “They can fucking try. No one would dare. And if they did, they’d be dead before they hit the ground.”
“Are you sure?” I prod.
The air suddenly smells like cinders, and my smirk grows wider. If I’d known triggering Xander’s possessive dragon instincts would be this much fun, I’d have done it a long time ago. Apparently, making a large purchase is a trigger of his.
“Do you spend this much money every weekend?” I inquire sweetly. “Should I feel special? Oh!” I gasp with sudden realisation. “Will I go into your vault now? Safe with all the other gold bars and diadems? Will I get to sleep on a bed of gold coins?” I hum for a moment, looking around us, but the space is silent. Everyone is probably still gossiping back inside. “Or is all your stuff plated and not real gold because?—”
Xander whirls around and grabs me by my neck. My own hands fly up as he presses his nose against mine. “Nothing of mine is plated ,” he snarls in disgust. “Nothing of mine is cheap. Everything I own is precious. Is treasure.”
I chuckle. “Including me?”
“Yes.”
Abruptly, he lets me go and I’m left reeling with his words.
“That was a Freudian slip,” he says tightly as we get to the car. To my surprise, it’s a fancy bottle-blue sports car. The type that looks sleek, expensive, and powerful. I suppose this is what he drives when he’s not transporting me. He opens the driver’s side door and gestures like he wants me to get inside.
“Oh, I’m driving?” I say with a giddy sort of excitement. “Okay! It’s been a while, but no worries.”
He growls with irritation. “No, you’re not. You’re getting into the passenger seat from this side.”
I make a face at the chain. “Just undo it.”
“No.” His nostrils flare.
“What? That’s silly.”
Xander just stands there, glowing eyes staring unblinking at me, black smoke streaming from his nostrils like toxic gas. His shoulders move up and down in great strain.
“You don’t want to separate the chain,” I say, working this out like a quadratic equation. “You don’t want to be separated…from me?”
Still, he says nothing, simply heaving and glaring like there’s a war going on in his head.
Glad to fucking see it.
I press my lips together to suppress the grin of amusement and oblige him, crawling into the driver’s seat for longer than is necessary, so all he can see of me are the two round globes of my ass bouncing and shaking before I stretch one leg over into the passenger side and then the other.
Once we’re both in, Xander Drakos, silent and fuming, drives his precious prize and treasure back to the Estate.
The pre-dawn light spreads across the horizon by the time we get back to the estate and I crack an eyelid open to see it before shutting it again and pretending to sleep.
“I know you’re awake,” Xander mutters after he turns the engine of the sports car off. He tugs on the chain a little and I bite down on the hiss of pain that comes from the wound where it’s melded into my skin.
He huffs in annoyance, but to my surprise, I feel his hot hands under my thighs and behind my shoulder blades. I keep my eyes firmly shut and my mouth open a little for good effect, and he somehow manoeuvres me across the gearbox and outside, into his arms.
Xander clutches onto me like he thinks someone is about to snatch me away.
Light footsteps sound on the steps outside.
“What happened?” comes Selena’s voice. “Why is she here?”
“I won’t talk about it,” Xander mutters, taking the steps two at a time. “Get out of my way.”
“Alright.” She sounds concerned and slightly disturbed, but we quickly leave her behind. I just get to see her call to Eugene and scoop him up before I lose sight of them both.
Before we know it, he’s kicking the door shut, and just when I think he’s going to put me in my cage, he opens the bathroom door.
I stir then, blinking my eyes open against the golden heat lights.
“What are you doing?”
“Washing the stink off you,” he mutters, his movements determined as he sets me down and bustles about. “You smell of other beasts and metal.”
Blinking blearily around, I stand bereft as Xander rolls up his sleeves. He fills the tub with water, testing it with his fingers first and filling it with bubble bath. He reaches for me, a stern, no-nonsense look on his face that I’ve never seen before. Before I can stop him, he picks me up and gently lowers me into the tub.
I hiss at the sudden heat.
Xander freezes my descent. “Is it too hot?” he asks quickly, testing the water with the hand curled around my thigh.
“No. But you’re acting weird.”
His jaw clenches, but continues to lower me into the tub. The hot water engulfs me like a perfect hug. He picks up my left arm and begins rubbing a wash cloth along it. “Don’t ask questions.”
“Why?” I say sleepily, reaching for the cloth.
He slaps my hand away. “I must be the one to clean you.”
There’s a knock at the door. “My lord, we can do that,” comes Heather’s voice.
Olly and Heather pop into view, concern and alarm clear on their faces.
“Out!” Xander roars, leaping to his feet. “Out!”
Their faces morph into comical levels of terror before they both make a run for it and Xander slams the door shut so hard it vibrates
“This must be a dragon thing,” I say quietly. “Is it?”
“It’s the treasure haze,” Xander says through clenched teeth as he scrubs at my other arm. “I can’t stop it.”
“But I’m a person,” I say slowly. The term is vaguely familiar, but in this context, it makes no sense. “Not like jewels or something.”
“It works the same,” Xander says, plunging his hand into the water and reaching for my foot. He brings it out of the water and begins meticulously cleaning each toe. “I must clean you thoroughly before I set you in your place.”
“I’ve never seen you like this,” I say, watching him inspecting the space between my big toe and the next.
“It’s temporary,” Xander says, carefully placing my foot back into the water and starting on the other. “Don’t get used to it.”
It’s not until he’s finished with my lower limbs and reaching under the water that I see the problem.
“Oh no.”
“What?” he says, alarmed. “Are you unwell?” Xander leans toward my face and sniffs before making a growling sound. “You are fine.” Then he begins washing my thighs beneath the water.
The sensation is so nice, so soothing compared to Heather’s brusque movements, that I close my eyes and sigh. “I mean, yeah, I think so.”
The washcloth moves up to the apex of my thighs. “Shit,” he says. “I can’t stop.”
My eyes fly open. “Pardon?”
Xander’s hand spreads my thighs open, and the washcloth runs over my clit. “Spawn, I can’t fucking stop.”
I hiss, arching my back. “Okay, wait. Here.” I try to ease my hand between his and the washcloth. But his hand is hot, large, and covers mine completely, eventually sweeping it to the side. He keeps rubbing between my legs like something mechanical.
He swears again as his hand keeps moving up and down over my core, that washcloth and the warm water creating the sort of friction that could drive a woman mad.
“Oh god,” I pant. “I— We?—
“I—” Xander groans. “Shit?—”
My eyes roll to the back of my head, and try as I might to fight it, the orgasm takes me. A gasp turns into a loud moan and I can’t help but close my eyes and arch into it like I’ve been craving all week. He keeps rubbing and I lose myself completely to his hand, the steam, the warmth.
“Did you just—” Xander is panting, sweat beading on his forehead, his jaw clenching.
“Yeah, sorry,” I mutter, embarrassed, trying to sit up again. “It’s just been a while and?—”
“It’s my fucking fault,” he mutters. “All my fucking—” He begins washing my abdomen, but his hands become gentle and he frowns deeply. “These never healed properly.”
The change in topic is jarring, but I register he’s talking about the scars my father made on my stomach. Celeste’s phoenix tears had taken them almost all away, but they still left faint red lines diagonally across my skin.
“They’re healed,” I say, cringing at the sensation of the cloth rubbing along the tissue. “Just not?—”
“That hurts you,” he mutters, before discarding the cloth and continuing with just his hands. Hot skin caresses mine with a gentleness that is confusing.
I can only stare at him when he gets up to my rib cage and to my breasts. Without missing a beat, his hands move over the mounds and cup them. My body welcomes his touch, and honestly, I feel like I’ve been waiting my whole life to feel this. To experience this.
It eases that primitive wound at my core.
Xander holds both my breasts, frowning and rubbing his thumbs over my nipples. “Everything has to be clean,” he says firmly. “Everything.”
“Yeah, I know,” I sigh, curling my toes in pleasure. “You said that already. Do that again.”
“This?” he says, rubbing his thumb over the tops of both nipples at the same time. I gasp, arching my back as the sensation connects to my clit.
It’s exactly then that I understand Xander is not himself. I immediately feel ashamed.
“Um, ow . That hurts,” I say in mock pain.
He immediately moves his hands away and I totally miss them.
“Face,” he announces, grabbing a new cloth and a fresh bowl of water. He gently washes my forehead and I keep my eyes open the entire time, studying his expression for clues of what exactly is going through his mind.
“Xander,” I say sadly.
“Yes?” he says with that concentrating frown still fixed as he sweeps the cloth under my nose.
“You’re good at this.”
His brow smoothes over, as if he’s relieved. “Thank you.”