Chapter 7
7
BIRDIE
I t’s still dark out when I wake up sandwiched between two warm bodies. I’m lying snugly against Violet in a way that’s not entirely uncommon for us. We’ve cuddled in the same bed for years. Of course, no one thought anything of it, assuming we were just sisters. And at first, we were.
But today is different because aside from her warm body behind me, there is someone else’s hand resting on my hip. Without peeling my eyes open, I reach down to find Alaric’s fingers gripping me.
Peeking my eyes open, I stare at him sleeping on the next pillow. Even though his face is relaxed, his hold is tight, and I can feel the tension radiating through his touch. His arm trembles, and his face morphs into fear. With eyes still closed, his brows pinch inward, and his nostrils flared.
It takes me a moment to realize—he’s having a nightmare.
Gently I rest my hand over his. In his sleep, he lets out a whimper, so I inch a little closer to him.
“Shhhh…” I whisper, gently stroking his hand. Then his arm. Rubbing him all the way up to his shoulders and then his face.
He lets out one last violent shudder before his eyes pop open. He’s staring at me while my hand still rests delicately against his cheek.
“You had a nightmare,” I murmur.
His eyes are still frantic as if he’s trying to reconcile his dreams with reality.
“I’m right here. You’re okay.”
Suddenly, he blinks, and his eyes return to normal. “Did I wake you?”
I shake my head.
Then he looks down at where his hand is on my hip, and he swallows. Clenching his jaw, he relaxes his grip. “Sorry,” he says, pulling his hand away.
And I know I shouldn’t, but I quickly grab it and pull it back to my side. I’m not doing anything inappropriate. Violet is right behind me, and I’m just trying to console him.
And yet, I feel a hint of guilt as I softly whisper, “Leave it there.”
Our eyes meet, and we simply stare at each other through the moonlit space between our pillows. I just met this man today, and already, I feel so drawn to him. Maybe it’s because he could be my savior, my knight in shining armor. Or maybe it’s because I know Violet trusts him, which means I trust him.
Or maybe it’s because I can already tell that there is a genuine man under this tough exterior he exudes. With his hand on my hip and my fingers resting on his, I let my eyes drift closed.
A feeling of safety and comfort washes over me, and I quickly drift back to sleep.
“What kind of lush gets drunk on two glasses of wine and passes out in a man’s room?” my stepmom snaps from behind me. Violet is curling my hair, and we make eye contact in the vanity mirror as she rolls her eyes, making me laugh.
“You owe Alaric and Violet an apology. You were an embarrassment last night. Tonight, you will behave.”
My stepmom is scurrying around the room, getting ready for the auction tonight. We’ve spent the entire day prepping me, which feels a bit excessive. I’ve had my makeup done, my hair curled, my legs waxed (right along with everything from my belly button to my asshole), and my nails painted.
There are three dresses hanging in the closet. They are all dark blue and sleek, but I don’t know which one is mine. I’m not sure if they are for me and my stepsisters or if one is my stepmom’s and mine is somewhere else.
“I apologize, Violet,” I say with a wink when my stepmom isn’t looking.
My mood is unexpectedly good today. Alaric and Violet and I were up late talking, and I could easily tell that she has chemistry with him. But oddly enough, I’m not bothered by it. I could also tell that he’s not as hard or as cruel as he lets people believe.
Considering what I’m being prepped for, I feel optimistic. I believe Alaric will step up for us tonight.
And every time Violet’s fingers brush my scalp as she curls my long strands, I think about the prospect of our future. My heart skips a beat as I picture it.
“Get dressed, girls,” my stepmom barks from the bathroom. Judging by the slur in her voice, she’s already finished a bottle of wine. “I have to meet with Reaper before the auction. Be downstairs and ready in fifteen minutes.”
“Where’s my dress?” I mutter when I see only Violet’s blue gown left hanging there.
“You’re not wearing a dress,” my stepmother replies casually, as if I should have known.
I’m almost afraid to ask. “Wh-what will I wear then?”
“What you’re wearing now,” she replies with a bite in her tone.
My eyes catch Violet’s in the mirror, and she’s wearing the same confused panic that I am. I glance down at the thin, short white robe I’m wearing with nothing underneath.
“But I’m not…wearing anything,” I mutter.
Don’t be stupid, Birdie, I tell myself. Of course, you’re not wearing anything.
My breathing starts to grow erratic as the entire situation becomes more and more real and dire. I’m being sold tonight. My hand in marriage. My future. My body. Me.
Tears prick my eyes as my gaze grows fuzzy and unfocused. The door to the room slams closed as my stepmom leaves. In a rush, Violet turns me toward her and wraps her arms around me.
“Don’t panic, Birdie. It’s going to be okay.” Her words are soft and soothing, but it’s not helping much.
“I can’t…I can’t do this,” I stutter in desperation.
“I’m not letting you go down there in this,” she says, stroking my head.
On a sob, I cling to her arm like it’s my only lifeline.
I feel like I’ve done nothing but cry for days. And what good has it done me? My tears haven’t saved me from a damn thing. The only thing they do is ruin my makeup.
I’m so fucking tired of being helpless and meek. People do nothing but stomp all over me and treat me like I’m not even a person. I’m sick of it.
But what can I do about it now?
Wiping my eyes, I sit up and pull away from Violet. Then I stare into the mirror at the beautiful girl staring back.
She looks like a doll. Fair and blonde and delicate.
“Are you okay?” Violet whispers.
My mouth is set in a thin line. For the first time, I feel nothing.
“I think it’s time we come to terms with the situation, Violet. I’m getting on that auction block. Someone we don’t know could win, and I will have to leave with him. I will become his wife, and I will have to have sex with him.”
“Don’t say that,” she says darkly through clenched teeth.
I turn toward her with a huff. “Why not? I’m just being realistic. It could be worse, right? Forced to fuck some rich old guy? You don’t think I’m tough enough to endure that? After everything I’ve been through, I can handle it.”
“I know you can handle it,” Violet replies with fury in her eyes. “I’m the one who can’t handle it.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry you have to endure me being fucked by a stranger.” My tone is cold and spiteful. I don’t mean to fight with Violet, but I’m desperate and angry, and I don’t know what else to do.
“I’d take your spot if I could,” she replies softly.
“I know you would.” I can’t meet her eyes as I stare down at my perfectly-manicured nails.
It’s silent between us. I wish I could stop time and stay in this room, but I know we need to face the music now.
“You should get dressed,” I say.
“You wear it,” she replies. “I’m not letting you go down there in nothing.”
“I can’t?—”
“Wear it,” she snaps, shoving the dress in my direction. “I have another one. What is she going to do? Rip it off you?”
I force a smile as I take the dress. “I’m sorry for yelling,” I say quietly.
She leans down to where I’m still sitting and presses her lips to my forehead. “I wish you’d yell more, Birdie. I like it on you. Scream, fight, do whatever you have to.”
For now, I’m going to fix my makeup and put on this dress. Then I’m going to walk down those stairs and face whatever awaits me. Just because I’m complicit doesn’t mean I approve. But if this results in my freedom from my stepmother, I’ll do it.
Violet puts on the same gown she wore last night, and once she has hers on, she zips mine. Hand in hand, we walk out the door and down the hall toward the staircase that leads to the main level. Then we walk to the grand hall where the event is being held.
I can already hear the charismatic Reaper calling out bids for whatever—or whoever—is up right now. My throat goes dry, and my palms start to sweat.
I can do this.
Violet squeezes my hand as we approach my stepmom and Luna, who are waiting for us near the door. When she turns, her eyes widen with shock as she rakes them over my body.
“What the fuck are you wearing?” she snaps.
“I wasn’t going out there in that paper-thin robe,” I argue with my shoulders pressed back and my head held high.
“You sassy little cunt,” she spits. Then her hand comes flying, slapping me hard across the cheek. I let out a gasp as I hold my hand there to soften the sting.
“Mom!” Violet shouts, putting herself between us.
Behind my stepmom, Luna laughs in a drunk, humored giggle. “You’re such an idiot, Birdie. You were never going out there in the robe, you nitwit.”
My eyes widen as I turn to stare at my stepmom. “Naked?”
“Take…it…off,” she growls.
My hands instinctively cling to my body as if I have any chance of stopping her.
“The men deserve to see what they’re bidding on,” she adds.
At this point, I know she’s doing this to torture me. It’s not about the money or finding me a rich husband. It’s about making me pay for whatever my father put her through. The violence. The humiliation. The torment. His sins are now my cross to bear.
And it doesn’t matter how unfair that is.
I’m too focused on my stepmom’s evil expression to realize Luna is now behind me. “She said take it off, Birdie,” she says insidiously as she tears down the zipper, scratching my back as she does.
I let out a scream as I move away from her. Violet pounces on her sister, but one of my stepmother’s goons is quick to hold her back.
My stepmom takes a step toward me, latching her claws on the front of the blue silk gown, tearing it down in one violent motion. The ripping at the seams echoes louder than my screams and the muffled voices of the crowd cheering just beyond the door.
It’s the sound of my dignity shredding by her hand.
“Mom, stop!” Violet shrieks, but she doesn’t.
They just keep ripping. My stepmom in the front, and Luna in the back. Until the dress is lying on the floor in strips of blue satin, and I’m standing between them, shivering and exposed.
I’ve never felt more vulnerable and afraid.
And alone.
Clarissa laughs when she’s done, staring at my face and the tracks of tears running down it.
“Don’t wipe those away,” she says, getting so close I have to fight the urge to punch her. “Some of them will like that look on you.”
I clench my teeth to keep my lip from trembling. Then I force my face to reveal nothing. I won’t give her the satisfaction.
Just then, the door to the auction room opens, and a man steps out. “Windsor. You’re up.”
“That’s you,” she says to me, and I turn to stare into her eyes. There is no life there. No soul or humanity. There is just evil and hatred.
Without a word, I step over the pile of shredded dress on the floor. With nothing but my long hair draped over my shoulders and my high heels on my feet, I walk through that door and into the auction.