Chapter 11 Phoenix #2
Clark’s voice crackles again. “We have a customer favorite piece of merchandise tonight. A fine woman in her mid-twenties. No bruises. No lacerations. Perfect dentition. Indeed, a beautiful smile. She stands roughly five feet four, weighs in at about 130 pounds. Long, fiery hair. Bright, clear blue eyes. A strong, squared jaw softened by a generous mouth. Trust me, you won’t hate it.
” He takes a beat to let us bidders take her in before continuing with the preparations.
“She’s fully primed and waxed, green on all holes.
” His crude shorthand indicating she’s not on her period, ensuring there will be no natural bleeding.
A pragmatic measure, he insists, so bidders can use any opening without having to account for a separate mess.
The rules come next, and they’re always the same.
We, the hunters, may test her endurance.
Push her limits. But can cause no permanent damage.
No cuts if they won’t heal within four weeks, ensuring she’ll be ready for the next auction.
Superficial bruises or swelling are acceptable, encouraged even. Anything deeper is strictly forbidden.
“We're going to kick off tonight's bidding at a cool $25,000,” he boasts, and I instantly shoot my hand into the air. “That was swift,” he jests before continuing. “I've got $25,000. Anyone for $35,000?
“I'll bid $50,000,” declares Dex, seated directly across from me. He's an absolute fool. Doubling my bid right from the start? It screams he doesn't have a clue what he's doing.
“I'll bid $51,000,” the man in the wolf mask speaks, his voice muffled yet determined.
“$55,000,” chimes in the old man donning a ski mask, his voice raspy.
Dex raises the stakes to $65,000, followed by a $70,000 and then a cautious $72,000. Dex jumps to $75,000, and the pair in the wolf mask take two steps back, signaling their retreat, and the old man swivels his head side to side, a sure sign I've got Dex cornered.
“$75,000, do I hear anything more?” The room falls into an expectant hush. “$75,000 going once...”
“$100,000,” I bark, my hand darting upwards, and Dex audibly gasps.
“What the fuck,” he mutters under his breath, his words lost to all but me. He can't see the triumphant grin stretching across my face, but I'm thoroughly pleased to have derailed his plans for the evening. He retreats, turning on his heel, and heads toward the waiting room, clearly conceding.
“Looks like you scared him off,” the auctioneer remarks, amusement coloring his tone. “I've got $100,000 going once.” The other bidders drift away, conceding defeat. With no need for further ceremony, Clark concludes, “Never mind. Sold for $100,000. I guess she's yours.”
The lock explodes with its release beneath us.
The gates, pressurized with a hiss of air, slowly unwind and curl open, revealing the dark abyss of the woods to my prey.
I pivot and descend the cold, stone stairway to the left, the walls slick with condensation, leading me to the narrow exit near the gate.
As I reach the final step, the cage springs sigh and release, the metal door creaking open with a groan. Red bolts, a pale streak against the dark woods, bare feet flying over the underbrush. She runs in a desperate, straight line, as they always do, believing it's the quickest path to freedom.
I start to jog after her, the damp earth muffling my footsteps.
This won't take long. Her soles are no doubt already grazed and bloody from the forest floor.
She's panting, adrenaline fueling her futile flight.
I can see her legs trembling. Her steps faltering.
I increase my pace, the cool night air stinging my lungs.
She slows, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
I lunge forward, my fingers tangling in her hair, and I yank her back, slamming her to the ground.
Her back hits the dirt with a thud, air rushing out of her chest in a harsh gust. She writhes, trying to catch her breath, her eyes, wide and wild.
I straddle her, pinning her wrists above her head.
“No, no. Please, no,” she begs, tears streaking her dirty cheeks.
“Knock that off,” I growl, my eyes boring into hers. She bucks, tries to wriggle free, and I punch her in the kidney. She gasps, the fight leaving her body like a swiftly ebbing tide. I kneel, my face mere inches from hers, and whisper into her ear, “You know how this works. You're mine now, Red.”
She whimpers softly, her eyes wide and glistening with a mix of fear and defiance as she locks her gaze on me.
Her dissenting blue eyes are like icy pools, unwavering yet vulnerable.
She knows she's caught in a situation from which there's no escape, and I can see the realization settling across her face like shadows stretching across the forest floor at dusk, slowly and inevitably.
But then, something within me shifts, like a sudden gust of wind changing direction.
My resolve crumbles. I can't do it. The thought of causing her harm feels like a weight pressing down on my chest. I can't wreck her as I planned.
Instead, I find myself frozen, staring at her while my hands tremble against her wrists.
Those blue eyes, for heaven's sake, they are a mirror image of Sam’s.
Identical in their icy hue, with the same mesmerizing flecks of silver dancing around the iris.
My grip slackens involuntarily, as if my muscles are rebelling against my intentions.
“What's wrong with you?” she sputters, sensing my hesitation. The words hit like a slap. She's been here before. She knows the routine. Knows what comes next. But I can't move. Can't breathe. All I see is Sam's face superimposed over hers, and my stomach churns.
I release her wrists and roll off her, a bitter taste in my mouth.
“I'm sorry,” I say, my voice hoarse. I stand, pulling her to her feet and turning her to face me.
She doesn't run. Smart girl. She knows there's nowhere to go. The woods are fenced, electrified at the perimeter, though she’s unaware.
Her eyes search mine, confused. “You can't tell anyone I did nothing to you,” I say, my voice low.
“But in exchange for your silence, I won't lay another finger on you tonight.”
She stares at me, uncomprehending. “Why are you doing this?” she asks, her voice a thin sigh.
“Quit it with the fucking questions,” I snap. “Take the gift and go back. Don't tell anybody I didn't fuck you senseless. If anyone asks, your body aches tomorrow morning. You feel like you've been assaulted by a wild beast, or some bullshit. Walking and sitting are a chore. Understand?”
She nods, her eyes wide. I see a moment of hesitation, then she turns and jogs back toward her cage, her bare feet silent on the damp ground. It wasn't satisfying. It never is. But this time, it's different. The only one I want is her. My Little Temptress.