THE PRESENT.

LADY BAEVERA.

"I still cannot believe a blood-bond finally formed for you after all these years," Helory squealed once again. "I was beginning to think it might never happen!"

I huffed, casting my best friend a side glance where she lay sprawled across the bed like an overexcited child.

My maids moved around us, fastening my clasps, adjusting pins, and smoothing silks as they dressed me in my ceremonial gown. I slipped my arms gracefully through the sleeves they held open.

"Don't look at me like that, young lady." Helory clapped her hands, kicking her feet. "I am just so excited! At over a thousand years old, I am fairly certain you are the last blood-virgin in all of Vallen Falls-possibly even all of Urai. Most of us were bloodhosts before we reached three hundred. It is such a thrilling thing, Bae. I am giddy for you!"

"I am excited too." And I truly was.

Helory sat upright. "By the Goddess, you are so beautiful."

"Oh, please." I rolled my eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of my lips. "Though I must admit, this silk is very flattering."

"Of course it is. Everything looks exquisite on you." She snapped her tongue. "Some days, half of Vallen Falls, and I wonder if Ukrae set aside an entire separate day just to create you. The perfection is glaring, and frankly, a little bit offensive. You make the rest of us feel woefully inadequate."

I gave her a flat look. Helory was the reigning queen of flattery.

"I just wish you would stop staining that fiery red hair of yours black," she lamented, mourning my hair as she had for centuries. "It is one of your loveliest features."

I can't do that." I hated the color red with a passion, and Helory knew it. I would gladly dye my hair black all my life if it meant I never had to look upon the vivid red strands ever again.

She sighed softly. "I understand." Leaning in a little, her tone dropped into a conspiratorial whisper. "So you wonder what he will be like? Your bloodmaster, I mean."

She continued, a dreamy smile lighting up her eyes. "I hope he is handsome, rich, and unmated. If you are going to be saddled with a male who gets to drink your blood for the rest of your life, the least the gods can do is make him pleasing to look at."

"I do not care for such things," I told her.

"Well, I do," Helory stated, without shame. "You were specific in your letter, right? About the meeting place?"

"Let us meet beneath the Union Tree, within the woods of Perching Hollow, as the sun begins its descent, at the fourth bell," I recited.

"Perfect. Very poetic." She nodded in approval. "This is exactly the kind of thrill you need in your life. You are always shut up in this big, boring manor, stepping out only for business, living the life of a cloistered old maid when you are arguably the most stunning female in the city. I worry about you, you know. Every day. But finally, the gods have heard me."

"I do just fine," I protested.

"Oh, please. If not for your betrothed's occasional visits, your life would be as lonely as they come." She grinned, hopeful. "Who knows, maybe the bloodfeeding will awaken something in you, and you may begin to feel the real desire, Bae. Not the shallow imitation that vanishes the second their fangs leave your skin."

I slid my foot into my shoes as she rambled enthusiastically.

"Then again, those others were not your bloodmaster, but this one is. Once the bond is sealed through his first feeding, you will officially become his bloodhost. And when you start to feel it again, you can finally consummate your love with Lord Phillip! You two would perform the bonding ritual and be mates for life!" She finished with a high, delighted squeal.

Oh gods. Exasperated, I shook my head.

But butterflies stirred in my belly. A lady could hope.

Before my Phillip, I had long since resigned myself to the fate of being one of those Urekai females who might very well die alone.

How was I supposed to find my lifemate when I had not felt even the faintest spark of attraction in what felt like an eternity?

Desire was a foreign concept to me. I do not have any physical desire. Have not in seven centuries.

Countless nights, I tried to seduce my betrothed, but always ended up unable to finish what I started.

The last time I entered Phillip's room, I chickened out, bolting to the nearest lavatory to empty my belly into it.

Thirteen years since I met the love of my life, yet I still could not give him my body.

So, I guess I understand why my usually composed best friend was practically going insane over the unexpected blood-bond I woke up to yesterday.

While the idea of some random male sinking his fangs into me and drinking my blood whenever he pleased did not exactly appeal to me, it stirred something I hadn't felt in a very, very long time. Hope.

Because a common, natural side effect of bloodfeeding was physical arousal. Whether the male deliberately released pheromones to intensify the desire or not, it always stirred a response. Always.

And I was counting on it.

It didn't matter that I had tried being a feeder many times in the past and only ever felt a shallow, strange imitation of desire. It was even worse when I was the one doing the drinking.

Both times, whatever flare of sensation I got vanished the moment the fangs withdrew, leaving me emptier than before. So, I gave up.

But now... now there was hope again.

Because, as Helory said, those males were not my bloodmaster. This one was. There is a blood-bond between us.

Maybe things will be different now.

Maybe, just maybe, I could finally be normal again.

•••••

"We are here, My Lady," the coachman announced as the carriage rolled to a smooth halt.

I stared at the entrance of the woods ahead, not moving an inch.

"Bae?" Helory called.

"Mmm?"

"Are you having second thoughts?"

I was. Gods, I was.

"There is nothing to worry about," she said gently, knowingly. "If you do not want the feedings to be uncontrolled action, you can set that boundary. Keep it formal, platonic, even mechanical. He is the one who needs you. His life depends on drinking your blood. You hold all the power here, Bae. Set the terms, and he will abide by them."

The knot in my belly loosened, if only slightly. "You are right."

"Of course I'm right. I'm always right." Helory gave me a reassuring smile. "So, stop eyeing the woodpath like you expect it to morph into a giant werewolf, and get going. Your bloodmaster awaits."

Okay, I can do this. With a deep breath, I stepped down from the carriage and entered the narrow wooded path.

The Union Tree stood in the clearing like a guardian from an age long gone. Two massive trunks fused into one, entwined like ancient lovers. Stepping beneath its sprawling boughs, I looked around.

Empty.

Trees stretched endlessly in every direction, but no one waited. Was he late? Had I arrived too soon?

Just a little while. If he does not show, I will leave, and we will reschedule.

Decision made, I leaned against the fused trunk and waited.

I did not have to wait long.

The air shifted. Something changed, and I knew I was not alone anymore.

My eyes caught movement between the trees: a figure. Then another. And another. So many bodyguards.

I straightened slowly, turning in a slow, full circle. More figures emerged between the trees, forming a loose perimeter around the woods.

Well, at least my bloodmaster was a person of power. Maybe even nobility, like myself. That certainly made things easier.

But unease crept over me, prickling my skin. The hairs on my arms rose.

And the scent of emberwood hit me.

No.

Oh gods, no.

He was not the only male whose natural scent was emberwood. It could not be him. It must not be.

Heavens, please. Anyone else but him.

The figure came into view, and I stopped breathing.

Revandrel Orionas Cel'theren.

Rich as the devil, handsome as sin, and tall as a tower, with shoulders as broad as a mountain's base. A force to be reckoned with.

The male is solely behind the vast Cel'theren empires scattered across Urai and its ancient cities.

He was also ruthless, calculating, merciless, and cruel. And more than all that, he hated me. No, hate was too small a word. Far too mild and civilized for his feelings toward me.

At 1,320 years old, I was no stranger to being despised. I had known dislike, resentment, even deep-rooted loathing, but none came close to what this male projected at me.

Only in those cold, satanic gray eyes had I seen hatred in its rawest, truest form. Coated with venom, seething with spite.

As he spotted me, he froze.

"You," he snarled. "What in the devils is this?"

The last time our paths crossed, I ran. Dignity be damned, grace forgotten, I had grabbed my skirts and bolted like a wild thing.

He caught me anyway.

This time, I did not move. I could not. Because the truth hit me like a blow to the chest.

A blood-bond had formed between us. Revandrel Orionas Cel'theren was my bloodmaster.

"This cannot be," I whispered.

"Baevera fu*king Eldareth," he growled, striding toward me. "Why the hell would you darken this sacred path with your filthy presence? The Union Tree deserves better than the likes of you. What the fu*k are you doing here, and where the hell is my new bloodhost?"

"Oh gods, it cannot be." I had always known our third meeting was inevitable. I just hadn't expected it to be today.

A lifetime spent avoiding him. Yet here we were.

I saw the exact moment he realized what I already did.

"You? My new bloodhost?" Revandrel's eyes flared with disbelief before fury broke through. "Over. My. Dead. Body."

"I did not choose this." I tried to keep my voice calm, but it was shaking. I was panting. "This cannot be happening."

Revandrel pinned me with a very spiteful glare. This male who had earned many names over the centuries.

The Coin Master. Whisperer of Gold. Ruthless Lender of Ruin. Dread Lord. Cunning Serpent. Bloodthirsty Gladiator. I had heard them all.

But once, long ago, he had only one name to me ... Evan.

My stepbrother.

Though not by blood, nor by birth, but by circumstance.

The boy who once glared at me with so much contempt, tearful, stuttering, small, had become this towering predator who struck fear and awe into nobles and trade barons alike.

That fragile boy was gone. In his place stood a cold-hearted, merciless Urekai with so many reputations it was difficult to keep count.

"I warned you," he stormed toward me, disgust twisting his handsome face. "Our paths must never cross a third time."

"I did not create this bond."

"No. Fate did." His tone dropped to something calm. Too calm. "They knew it was time for my revenge. And like a sacrificial lamb, they brought you to me."

He gripped my cheek, tilting my face until our eyes locked. I could not look away.

"When I am done with you, Baevera Eldareth," he murmured, "you will wish this day had never come."

His hand lifted, a flash of metal catching the corner of my eye. A pin?

I panicked. "Wait-"

"And even if you were the last female on earth, I would never drink from you," he snarled before the world went dark.

LORD REVANDREL

I stepped into Naked Den with a mood so black a storm-cloud had nothing on it.

Is there something on my face, too? Because these people took one look at me and scrambled the hell out of my path, tripping over themselves to avoid me.

"Get the ladies," I barked.

My ever-watchful sentinels moved with speed to carry out my command.

Taking the dark, winding corners, I came to the secret stairwells leading down to the corridor that led even deeper underground.

The music and laughter faded with every step, and by the time I got to my private residence, only silence remained.

I stepped in, slamming the door so hard it rattled, giving out a loud boom. Then, I was pacing. I could not stop. Too worked up, angry, and restless.

Baevera fucking Eldareth was my bloodhost?

"What sort of sick joke is this?" I growled. My Urekai beast was so close to the surface, I knew my eyes had turned yellow.

When I woke up yesterday to a strange tug in my chest-the unmistakable pull of a blood-bond-I felt... relief.

Actual happiness, for the first time in a long time.

At 1,270 years old, I was tired of drinking from so many strangers to satisfy the thirst. More than ready now to have a one true feeder.

Once a Urekai male reaches a thousand years old-or a female, five thousand-the thirst changes. It grows wilder, more demanding, until it requires more feeders than usual to feel full.

That's when fate makes a match with the blood-bond, choosing a one true feeder for us.

Just my fucking luck that mine would turn out to be an Eldareth. Of all the Urekai females in the world... her?

It was laughable.

And it made me want to rip the city in half.

Very little moved me anymore, but the name Eldareth was different. Always had been.

It did something to me. Lighting me up and making me rumble like a fucking volcano.

I stalked to the tall window and stared out at the rainy night. Lacing my hands behind my back, clenched fists and all, as I tried my damndest to calm the fuck down and think clearly.

My revenge on the Eldareth lineage was long overdue. A thousand years late.

It was not that I did not want revenge. I had. Every single day. Most days, it was the first thing I thought about every waking dawn, and the last thing before I went to sleep.

But I had to walk away.

When I had to choose between killing them and making them pay, I chose revenge. And because my rage was too great then, I walked away.

Had I acted then, it would have been a bloody massacre.

I would not have stopped until every Eldareth corpse lined the gates of their manor. Burning their legacy to the roots. I would probably have salted their ashes, like the demons they were.

And all of that would have been mercy, for they did not deserve to merely die.

So I pulled away and rebuilt myself, trusting time to dull the bloodthirst just enough for revenge to fully blossom.

And the time had finally come.

Fate, the twisted, vindictive witch that she is, bound me to the one person I would never drink from. The Eldareth I wanted most to destroy.

If this third meeting had happened five years ago, I would have started my revenge on her immediately. But something was different now.

After my visit to Jolan Kolls, I had spent more mornings than I cared to admit wondering how the hell Baevera Eldareth could possibly be Eve, the Red Mask.

It sounded so absurd, I used to laugh. Sometimes I still did.

Her nobility, lineage, and personality aside, the Red Mask had gone down in history as more myth than female.

They said her body felt like magic. Addictive to have, obsessive to touch, and impossible to let go of.

That red-haired pleasure maiden was so expensive, males gladly emptied their vaults for a mere handful of hours in her bed.

Some swore her skills were unmatched; others insisted she did not have to do anything because her body alone did the work for her.

And all of that was Baevera? I snorted aloud, almost sick with the absurdity of it all.

To even think that seven centuries ago was named 'Reign of the Red Mask'. The golden century that saw more noblemen fall from wealth to ruin than any other time in Urekai history...because of her.

I had tracked down all the other founding slaves, made them offers they could not refuse, and in time, they came to work for me. Every last one of them.

Except her.

I never reached out.

Not because I did not want to, but because the night I vanished from their lives over a millennium ago, I made her a promise.

"I will walk out of here, but pray to whatever demonic gods answer the likes of you that we never cross paths again in your lifetime. Three times, Baevera. I will let you go the first two. But the third... Consider our third crossing at your end. Your life as you know it will be over, and my revenge will begin."

So I made no move to seek her out. Two paths crossed in the past, one more to go.

Why should I chase her when I knew inevitably, she would find her way into my orbit?

And she did.

Now, she is mine.

I had her revenge well planned centuries ago. Every step, every torture, every suffering.

I would crush her businesses, tear down her alliances, erase her reputation, and leave her destitute. Inflict all kinds of pain on her, strip her of every ounce of wealth and legacy her name carried.

That was the plan, until five years ago. Now I had something much better in mind.

Baevera Eldareth will be my slave.

Not for me personally. Heavens forbid. I would rather lie with a frozen corpse than that female.

In fact, if my life depended on sleeping with her, I would sooner perform a death-summoning spell than lie with Baevera Eldareth. But she will work for me here in Neked Den.

She will wear the Red Mask again, but this time under my terms. I will not pay her a single copper. No title, no dignity, just a body to be used.

And I will make sure she knows every second of it that she is owned.

LADY BAEVERA

The days bled into nights, blurring together until they became meaningless.

I had no idea how much time had passed.

When you are kept in a small, windowless dungeon, fed once a day-maybe, it was easy to lose track. Especially when you are so weak you cannot even tell if it's a meal a day or one every three.

Hunger stretches time, distorts it. So does pain. So does silence.

By now, everyone would know I was missing. My estate. My staff. My family.

Helory would be beside herself. My aunt would be worried sick, and Phillip would wear holes in the floor from agitated pacing. They have all probably sent out search parties through every shady corner of Vallen Falls looking for me. They would not find me.

If only they knew my nightmare had returned in the flesh.

If only they knew Revandrel had finally come for me with his millennium-aged revenge, dragging his hate behind him like chains.

He was determined to break an already broken doll into as many pieces as he could get.

Sigh...

His workers did not know what to make of me. When they brought food, I made a habit of staring them down. Looked them in the eye until they dropped their gaze and walked away.

I could see the curiosity in their eyes, the questions behind their silence. They expected panic, hysteria, screams, and demands.

They expected a lady pounding against the bars, shrieking to speak with their master. They expected weakness.

But I did not give them that.

Not even when my Urekai beast stirred restlessly inside me, snarling one second and begging to be freed the next. Eager to fight, to lash out.

Not even when they came with sacks and ropes, dragging me out of my cage like an animal.

They would throw a red sack over my head-always red-and carry me off. String me upside down like livestock over a slaughter pool.

Legs tied, arms restrained, garments bound to my body, then they would dunk me into the water. Over and over again.

That was how they bathed me.

I could not decide which method was worse. But I took it all.

And when they returned me to my cage, dripping wet, shaking, and teeth chattering in the cold, I said nothing. Did not scream. Did not beg.

Revandrel does not know... it would take more than all of this to break what was already broken.

Did he not know I had prepared for this day? That I had spent centuries imagining it. Training for it. Hardening for it.

The cold did not faze me. Neither did the pain.

I had trained my body through fire and frost, through illness and hell, preparing for the slim chance I might still be alive when he found me again.

I always knew he would. And I would be ready. I was ready.

...if only they would stop using the damn red sack.

Or the red ropes.

I really abhorred that colour, because it meant ruin. Red is a bad omen.

Some incredibly horrible fate is coming my way... yet again. I can feel it.

I clutched at my soaked robes as shivers snaked down my body, my cheek pressed against the filthy ground. I shook and shook from the cold.

They had been especially cruel today, the bastards. But I could bear this. I had to.

Sooner or later, Revandrel would decide to show his face, and when he did, I would be ready to withstand whatever demonic punishments he chose to inflict.

In a way, it was a great mercy that his loathing for me ran so deep that he would never touch me. And for that, I would eternally be grateful to the gods.

As long as whatever he had planned was not of that nature, I, Baevera, would survive.

LADY BAEVERA

At some point, another restless sleep crept in, dragging me back to our first encounter-two hundred years after he walked away from the Eldareth estate.

I woke with a sharp breath, sprawled on the cold, unforgiving floor, clutching my pounding skull.

Nearly a millennium later, that meeting still had the power to make me cringe. I had spoken down to him then, so smug, so foolish. I had called him filth. Called him trash. And not once, standing in that grand event hall, did I believe the tables could ever turn.

But by our second encounter, almost seven hundred years later, I knew better. The tables had already turned.

My reaction had been the complete opposite of the first. I had run like a coward. He chased me into the woods, where I stumbled and fell, standing over me like a god as he lifted two fingers and declared our second meeting.

After that, I'd done everything within my power to avoid him, to stay out of his path, running in the opposite direction for three more centuries. Then, this blood-bond happened.

Footsteps echoed nearby, dragging me out of my pathetic trip down memory lane.

Another bath, incoming. I braced myself.

But it was not one of the guards who walked in. It was Revandrel.

Hands clasped behind his back, he strode into the dungeon like a king in charge, his long black robe trailing behind him. 

A guard rushed forward with a key, unlocking the gate. I stepped back as he entered, coming to a stop before me.

"How long do you plan to keep me here?" I asked, voice dry and brittle. "I hope you realize by now my clan knows I am missing. They know where to look."

Revandrel tilted his head, indifferent. "And how would they know that?"

"I made the trip to the Union Tree with Lady Helory of House Cinx," I said tightly. "She knows I am gone. And you will be among the top five names to be investigated."

He shrugged, unbothered. "They have no proof. But they can certainly try."

"What do you want from me?" I rasped.

Those cruel gray eyes studied my face for far too long.

"With a face like that," he said at last. "I suppose if one looked long enough, they might find some... appeal."

My stomach twisted. "I don't understand."

Revandrel lifted his gaze back to mine. "It is absurd, isn't it? That someone like you would have a face that pretty."

That caught me off guard. I never expected such a compliment from him.

"Gee, thanks. I had no idea you noticed," I said dryly. "I distinctly remember you calling me an ugly mutt last time. Why, Lord Cel'theren, do you want me?"

He closed the distance, lifting my chin with two fingers. His touch was cold. 

"Get off your high horse, Baevera. Your blood may sicken me, but your body repels me more," he growled. "I would sooner stick it into a drooling, unwashed feral."

I flinched.

Of course I did. Only he could direct such disgust towards me and mean it.

His gaze swept over me like a razor, and I suddenly became painfully aware of how disheveled I looked. How weak I must seem.

"Your current condition aside, even if you were to clean up and dress in your finest Eldareth silks, standing at the height of your elegance and glory, I would still find you repulsive," he added in a blunt tone. "Disgusting as rotten meat. Repellent, like grave mud."

Ouch.

I stared back at Revandrel, refusing to let him see how deep his words cut. "I also have no desire for your body or your fangs near my neck, so I will take the venom you spew as the compliment it truly is."

"Sure. I do not see why you should not." He released me, stepping back just enough to give the illusion of space.

I crossed my arms. "Since you hate my blood so much and the bond that formed between us, what are your plans? Kill me to rid yourself of it?"

"I plan to wait a few weeks for the unsealed bond to transfer to someone else," he replied smoothly. "As much as I looked forward to finally having a bloodhost, the poison running through your veins will never be my substance."

Tilting my chin, I stared him down with all the mockery I could muster. "Let's say you do manage that. What makes you think you will survive the waiting period it takes for a new bond to form?"

"I will take my chances," he said without missing a beat. "You, however, are in no position to worry about anyone but yourself. I have decided to put you to good use."

"What does that even mean-"

"You are going to work here in Naked Den as a Slave. For the highest bidders."

My heart slammed to a halt. My arms dropped to my sides. 

No.

I must have misheard.

"You are kidding, right?"

"I am as serious as a feral episode." Revandrel turned, walking a few paces away before glancing back, giving me a cruel smirk. "One thing you will learn about me, Baevera: I do not kid. And I never bluff."

All the blood drained from my face.

"You you... You cannot be serious!" I screamed, composure gone. "What the fu*k, Cel'theren!?"

"Oh, please. Spare me the dramatics." He clicked his tongue. "Save it for those who do not know what kind of slave you really are beneath all that highborn grace."

What the hell? I glared at him.

"Pretending to put up a fight will not change a thing. Not the outcome, and certainly not who I know you to be..." His voice dropped, and he whispered slowly. "...Red Mask."

Gasping, I staggered back as he had struck me. In a way, he had.

"What...what did you just call me?" I croaked, eyes wide.

He sucked his teeth. "Word on the street is Red Mask was one of the best slaves the world ever had. I will have you know, your retirement caused depression in half the wealthy males' population." His gaze dragged down my body. "Though for the life of me, I cannot fathom why."

I could not breathe.

Oh gods. Oh, cruel, merciless gods...

My legs buckled, and I sank to the ground, cold and dizzy.

This wasn't real. It couldn't be real. Had to be a nightmare. A hallucination. Anything but this.

"But no matter," Revandrel continued airily. "Far be it from me to judge males for their terrible, terrible taste in females."

"How did you know?" I choked out.

"I happen to know Jolan Kolls."

Jolan. He knew Jolan...

How well? How much did Kolls tell him? Does he know everything?

My heart hammered so hard, I was surprised Revandrel could not hear it.

"You know, I followed Red Mask's career from start to finish," he drawled, amused. "Legs spread wide for whoever offered the highest coin. Honestly, it is a blessing the world does not know your real name."

"Stop... St-stop talking..." I couldn't breathe. About ready to pass out. 

"Anyway, I am giving you the chance to become the best version of yourself again. I bet that century was the highlight of your life." He smiled coldly. "Consider this the beginning of another. Your second chance to do what you love."

I shook my head hard. "I do not want to." 

"Oh, but I think you will."

"And if I refuse?" I asked hoarsely. 

He smiled again. "I already intend to take everything you own. Starting with your docks. Your seaports. Your fleets. Everything under your name."

"You will never get your hands on anything that belongs to me!" I spat, fury sparking. I wanted to claw his eyes out.

"Patience, Eldareth," he purred. "Patience."

"Where was I?" He tapped his chin in mock thought. "Ah, yes. Since torture is already on the table, regardless of whether you become my slave, what else... hmm..." He smirked. "Ah. How about I tell the world that you are Red Mask? With proof, of course. The kind that cannot be denied."

Blackmail. 

My hands started to sweat. My blood turned cold. 

"I wonder what they will do when they find out how you doubled the Eldareth wealth." He snorted out a laugh. "I can already imagine the scandal. It will be the talk of this century."

I wanted to punch him. To shift into my beast form and rip him to shreds. But I was not stupid. 

Revandrel Cel'theren did not care that I was a female. He would hit back. And he would hit harder.

I will not cry. I will not cry. Heavens, please do not let me cry. Not for him. Never for him.

I gripped my clothes so tight my knuckles went white. My body is shaking visibly now.

He saw it all. The battle in my eyes, the fierce shimmer of tears I refused to shed. 

And he smiled. Truly smiled. 

Gods, he looked like the devil when he did.

"Ah, there it is. The infamous Eldareth pretense. All of you were such good fucking actors." He took a step forward, watching me like I was entertainment. "Save the drama for the exhibition. It is in three days," he advised. "Sell the audience whatever fantasy you like. Pretend you are still a virgin, I do not give a damn, whatever floats your boat. All I care about is the coin you bring in."

"I won't do it." The words came out broken and desperate. I hated how I sounded, but I could not help it. 

He snorted. 

"Give me any torture you want. Whip me, skin me, break my bones on the rack. Use the iron chair, the flaying hook-hell, stake me to the pyre. But not that!" I cried, panting. "Anything but that..."

"You will need a proper bath and food if you are going to be worth even one glance, so you will be moved to the quarters," he continued as if I hadn't spoken at all. "For what it's worth, I still do not believe you are Red Mask. I still think Jolan fed me a load of bullshit." 

Revandrel's gaze ran over me again, the look of disdain unmistakable. "If you were a succubus, it may be a bit more believable. They were made for the bedroom. It is who they are, it is their identity. Then there is you... my freaking Urekai stepsister."

"That is because I am not Red Mask or whatever!" I shouted at the top of my voice. "You do not believe it either, so why are you selling me out?!"

He shrugged lazily. "I am keeping an open mind. You know that saying, 'don't knock it till you have tried it?' I am counting on it."

"You are not listening to me! I will not do it!" I was panicking. It was in my heaving chest, in the shrill of my voice. "Is this what you do now? Blackmail women into selling their bodies for you? I always knew you were a monster, Revandrel, but I never pegged you for a trafficker!"

"That is because I am not." He grinned. "You are the first and last of your kind, Lady Baevera. Unless there is another daughter of Magnus Eldareth out there, I know nothing about."

"Do not do this... please..." I shook my head miserably. "I beg of you, please."

The amusement drained from his face, and he dropped all mask of playfulness. "I love the way you beg. Practice more because you will be doing more of it in the future. This is just the beginning."

Shame washed over me. "Please."

"You owe me, and I am collecting." In a cold, final tone, he added, "Get ready for the exhibition."