32
“Four?” I scowl at the director and the smarmy little presenter, Starlen, as they outline the next challenge. “You’re going to eliminate four at once.”
“Not necessarily,” Starlen shrugs, “some of the rooms only contain three contestants since the last challenge and the unfortunate demise of the girl in her sleep.”
“It could be more, though. More than four,” Gerry says quickly, “depending on who kills whom.”
“It seems a bit dramatic…”
“The contestant numbers are still high in terms of the weeks left for the show to run,” Starlen scowls, “and the Bachelor Universe is baying for blood. There’s been so little romance; there’s literally no catfights, no jealousy, no death threats.”
“And you, well…you haven’t killed anyone yet,” Gerry says almost apologetically.
“I can see how that might be a problem,” I answer drolly, rolling my eyes.
‘I almost did, though. Almost took a life and broke my vow. God, this fucking show needs to end. Permanently.’
“It is a problem,” Starlen frowns, “when you’re responsible for a multi-million-dollar advertising budget that revolves around fans being glued to a screen.
They want bite, and they want blood. If we do a high-stakes group challenge and force them to work together with their enemies there’s bound to be drama; it’ll put a whole new twist on things. ”
“You must see how draconian and outdated these games are,” I sigh, running my hands over my face before looking at each of them in turn. “It’s beyond prehistoric; it belongs in the annals of history with the gladiatorial arenas.”
“I don’t see anything of the kind,” Starlen gasps.
“And those kinds of words will land you in a royal prison. This game has been, and forever will be, the premier way our kind find wives. How else do we choose a bride? You might have every woman you meet in the palm of your hand, Viscount, but we are not all so fortunate. Do you suggest we just randomly wander the world full of billions of women and hope we bump into one suitable enough to continue our bloodline?”
“Your bloodline,” I snort. “Please, forgive me if I fail to feel any concern that your pissant little branch might wither on the vine.”
“Regardless of how you feel about me, Viscount,” Starlen sniffs, pointing his nose up haughtily, “the games have royal approval and continue by royal decree. They are part of our culture and our heritage. They’re adored by billions of humans and anticipated by vampires all over the globe.”
I glare at him but make no further comment as he drones on. My taking part in these games is tacit approval of them; I know that. Nothing could be further from the truth.
I remind myself to reacquaint myself with Eleanor once I’m back in Falcon’s fold.
She might not be part of his family any longer, ostensibly due to her plans to use Suzume to bring down the Queen and end the control of our kind over the human race.
But I’ll bet my right nut that, as geriatric as she likely is now, she’ll still be able to help me make contact with people still working to, at the very least, stop rituals like these games.
Even though Falcon won’t like it, I’m determined to make up for participating this season by taking an active role to end this shit.
If that means making a deal with a decrepit old devil, so be it.
The two fools before me babble on, and I make an effort to refocus on what they’re saying.
“And now we come to the matter at hand,” Gerry stammers, “ah, the losers of the contest, Viscount…”
“They have to be killed,” Starlen finishes for him. “Bitten.”
“That won’t happen.”
“Ah, well,” Gerry and Starlen exchange knowing glances as the former bumbles on. “We’ve kind of come up with a workaround.”
“A workaround?” I glower at the pair.
“Yes,” Starlen says, shoulders straightening as he tosses his hair and looks supremely happy with himself. “My idea. You ask them to accept your bite, they comply, then we pan away. I swoop in afterwards and have a little snacky-snack.”
I stare at him and grit my teeth.
“You want to snack upon my potential brides?”
“Technically,” Gerry jumps in, “they aren’t potential brides if they lose the challenge.”
They nod in unison and smile at me.
“I can bite as many as you like, up until the final two,” Starlen shrugs, “the last one you’ll have to kill, no matter your sensibilities. It has to happen on camera.”
“You both disgust me,” I snap, turning from them and making my way towards the limo waiting to take me back to my accommodation.
A week from tonight four contestants will be leaving the hacienda in body bags, four women who gave up everything to risk their lives for me.
The thought makes me sick.