Each chime falls over us like a bucket of cold water.

Mom grabs Angela’s hand, and my father offers me his arm to walk.

Tucker stands to my right and opens the door, letting in a gust of freezing air.

We all seem to hold our breath for a second and then begin to walk.

The street is empty, although dozens of pairs of eyes watch us from their windows.

Every full moon is an event that everyone watches from the safety of their homes, with goosebumps and aching hearts, because every time one of us enters the Blood Auction, it reminds the others of what will one day come to their own homes.

Many other auctions are taking place tonight in hundreds of cursed villages like ours.

We walk in silence, hearing windows close and the meow of a stray cat.

“If you ask me now, I’ll take you out of here,” Tucker whispers.

“We’ll run away from the village, go into the forest, and with the money I’ve saved, we’ll cross the ocean.”

My heart skips a beat, I look around, hoping no one is close enough to have heard his boldness.

“Don’t say nonsense.” I grit my teeth. “Don’t even think of suggesting something like that again. It would be treason.”

He tries to speak, but a single look from me is enough to silence him.

He can’t be serious about this.

Going against the rules and the system is treason.

They’d kill our whole family—or rather, drain them like pigs in the village square.

The world has changed; we’re no longer the cruelest living being. Now they are.

They let us dream of a world where humans ruled everything, and crushed that fantasy with a simple wave of the hand.

“There doesn’t seem to be much of a crowd at this auction,” Mom comments from behind, worried.

Fewer people at the auction means more chances of being bought.

I swallow with difficulty, trying to dissolve the knot in my throat.

The peaked roof of what used to be a church is already visible at the end of the street.

After the vampires’ arrival, everything related to religion was burned and destroyed—except churches.

They found it ironic to use them for auctions.

As if to say: “Look, God, here’s where I buy your beloved children to treat them like animals, to feast on them and break their souls.”

What they don’t know is that their arrival sparked, for many, a deeper need to believe—to cling to a merciful being who watches over us.

The church doors are wide open, and from within, an intense orange light spills out.

We stop walking and look at each other, knowing they can’t follow me any further.

Once again, Mom begins to cry and throws herself into my arms.

“I’ll pray every night for you to be safe, healthy, and strong.”

“Mom…”

“Darling, don’t scare our daughter anymore,” says Dad, wrapping his arms around Mom as she tries to hide in him.

“She’s strong and will fulfill her role. She’ll manage to write to us and bring us words of relief, right?”

I nod.

“Sister, show them how tough the Vosss are.”

“You got it.” I smile.

“Don’t encourage your sister to do anything reckless,” Mom scolds.

“Daughter, you must be submissive—even if they promise not to hurt you beyond… well, you know their word doesn’t mean much. They could still hurt you.”

“I know, Mom,” I say, even though I’m more than willing to be reckless. “I’ll be good.”

“That’s my girl.”

I kneel down, aware that my skirts are getting stained with dirt.

I kiss Angela on the crown of her head and whisper something silly in her ear to make her laugh, then hug Tucker, and finally wrap both my arms around my parents and hold them tightly.

“I’ll be fine, I promise.”

“We love you so much, daughter.”

I give them each a loud kiss on the cheek and, clutching my skirts, I head toward the entrance of the old church.

I don’t look back—their sad faces would break me.

I quicken my steps and cross the threshold of the door.

The cold inside steals my breath for a moment.

Despite being inside a church, little remains of its original contents.

It looks nothing like the images in books.

Everything that could have had religious meaning is gone.

Where the baptismal font should be, there’s a pyramid of goblets filled with crimson liquid; the walls bear no saints, only portraits of pale faces.

The Pure, the elite among vampires, the highest authority.

The pews have been replaced by luxurious armchairs, the altar is now just another table, and a few crosses remain in place, turned upside down in mockery.

A woman with an oval face, dressed in a red velvet gown, approaches me when she sees me enter.

“Your Blood Covenant, please.”

I search in the small pouch hanging from my wrist and pull out the book that contains all my data.

The woman opens it and reads with a clear look of boredom.

She observes me briefly from under her lashes, evaluating me.

“Follow me.”

She starts walking down the aisle, and before we reach what was once the altar, we veer toward a small door.

I start hearing my own heartbeat.

The cold is still painful, and I wonder how she shows no signs of discomfort.

She’s human—the blush in her cheeks and her lack of pallor confirm it.

We emerge into a room dimly lit by candles, and other faces stare back at me.

There are several girls and boys, all with wide, fearful eyes.

“Take off your dress and put that on,” says the woman, pointing to a red cloth.

I look around, searching for a screen to change behind.

“There’s no…”

“Modesty and shyness are things you can no longer afford from now on,” she cuts me off. “Get changed quickly, they’re about to arrive.”

I take the red silk garment and, glancing quickly at my companions, I see that it does little to cover our nakedness.

The men’s chests are bare, and they wear a strange piece of clothing from the waist down.

I blush and quickly avert my gaze.

Everyone avoids eye contact, gripped by shame.

I try to undo the laces of my corset.

“One last question,” the woman in the red dress says before disappearing down the hallway. “Is your virtue intact?”

I blink.

“What does my virtue have to do with any of this?”

“They like the taste of virgin blood,” her tone is haughty. “Your virtue will increase your price.”

“Damn pigs…” I mutter.

“The answer is simple: yes or no.”

She arches an eyebrow at me, impatient. I square my shoulders and lift my chin.

“Yes, my virtue is intact.”

She nods as if pleased with my answer and disappears.

Just a few minutes have been enough to classify her as someone I dislike.

With difficulty, I bring my hands to my back and try to undo the dress. It’s hard, but obviously no one is going to offer to help. When I loosen the corset, I allow myself a deep sigh and let it fall to the floor. I slip off the dress and remain in only a thin undergarment.

I hug my body before taking that off as well, leaving me naked. I stare at the wall, pushing aside the shame, and without letting myself lower my gaze, I pull the red silk over my head, which falls softly and clings to my body.

A door opens on the other side, revealing a woman dressed entirely in black. Her face is covered by a lace veil, as if she must hide her identity to avoid being recognized by one of us and facing retribution.

“You’ll go out one by one,” she informs. “You can’t see them, but they can see you. Stay still and silent on the other side of the glass. It’ll be over before you know it.”

Her voice sounds very mature.

She says a name, and out of the corner of my eye, I see it’s a tiny, petite girl who, by the way she hunches her shoulders, must be terrified.

She walks out the door, and it closes forcefully behind her.

The woman stays in the room with us, and even though I can’t see her, I feel she’s subjecting us all to her scrutiny.

Maybe ten minutes pass when knuckles knock on the door, calling the next one.

Little by little, the room empties, and the air becomes heavier and more uncomfortable.

“For some of you, today will be a special day,” the woman says suddenly. “I’m sure of it.”

Maybe this woman is an old lady who’s begun to lose her mind. A special day? Being bought like pieces of meat?

How special can it be to know that the rest of your life will be dedicated to letting them sink their fangs into your neck?

“I seriously doubt it, ma’am,” I say, unable to hold back.

I know her eyes land on me, and the rest of those still in the room look at me in disbelief.

“Do not dare contradict my word, young lady.”

“What’s so special about being bought?”

The woman decides I’m not worth her time or the effort of wasting saliva on me. The door opens again, and then she turns toward me.

It’s my turn.

It’s hard to put one foot in front of the other, and yet I manage.

I pass by her, and a musty smell hits me. Without needing to see her, I know she must have a smug smile on her face.

As I step out, the light is so blinding that I have to close my eyes—I'm not used to this artificial light that only a few possess.

My eyes sting and tear up, and a stranger’s hand is necessary to guide me to the center.

After a few blinks, I realize I’m standing where the pulpit of the church used to be, and where now there’s nothing but floors covered in plush red carpets and a massive glass pane that reflects my image.

They’re there, behind it. Watching me, evaluating me, trying to smell my blood.

The lights dim, and only a single spotlight remains above my head, displaying me as if I were an expensive vase.

I don’t allow myself to lower my gaze or blush, knowing that many pairs of eyes are seeing my barely covered body.

“Elara Voss,” speaks a voice I recognize as the woman in the red dress. She sounds loud and confident.

“Healthy, weighs fifty-one kilos, presents no physical anomalies, her blood type is O negative, and… her virtue is intact. Bidding starts at fifteen Crimson gems.”

I can’t see anything happening on the other side.

“Gentleman number five offers twenty Crimson gems. Does anyone offer more?”

My eyes dart around, searching for something behind the glass.

“Lady number ten offers twenty-five Crimson gems.”

Amounts continue to be announced.

Men and women. Numbers and more numbers…

My legs buckle from time to time, and I feel completely overwhelmed knowing that the control of my life is slipping through my fingers and that in a few minutes I’ll have lost it entirely.

My vision blurs, and I blink quickly to chase away the sensation.

“Number twenty-eight offers fifty Crimson gems—any higher?”

Fifty?

How ironic that I’m being bought here for Crimson gems while my family will receive only a pouch of coins.

With just one of those precious stones, my family could live peacefully for years.

“Seventy Crimson gems.”

A shiver runs down my spine.

“Eighty Crimson gems!”

This is so sadistic and inhuman.

“One hundred Crimson gems!”

A shrill sound interrupts the sequence of bids, silencing the woman who kept torturing me with her voice.

I stay in place, waiting for an explanation.

Seconds pass, then whole minutes.

“The bidding has just ended,” the woman’s voice now reflects delight.

“Miss Elara Voss has just been purchased by Cassian Draven for the price of six hundred Crimson gems.”

The spotlight above my head turns off, plunging me into absolute darkness.

The creak of a door opening reaches my ears, and several pairs of hands grab me by the arms, pulling me out of there.

I don’t know if I should resist, but I let myself be dragged.

As they take me to another room, I realize that the lights had been warming me, and now the cold embraces me once again.

I find myself with the rest of the companions who were shown before me.

They look at me with wide eyes, and at first, I think it’s because of the fear they must have experienced out there, but after a few minutes, I realize it’s because of me.

“What’s going on?”

None of them dares to say a word.

I look at myself, searching for something out of place—a wound, or maybe my clothes got disheveled, showing more than they should.

Everything looks fine.

I lift my eyes, seeking answers.

“Why are you all looking at me like that?”

Agonizing minutes pass until the petite girl I saw earlier, the one with hunched shoulders, dares to speak.

“We heard it.”

“Heard what?”

“Who bought you?”

“What about it? It was some Cassian Drakov… Drakon or something.”

“Cassian Draven,” she corrects me. “Is it possible you’re this ignorant?”

“Excuse me?”

“Cassian Draven,” says a boy. “He’s a soulless monster. The worst of them. He’s ruled by an insatiable thirst.”

“Aren’t they all like that?” I reply.

“Not like him,” adds the girl again. “Your life ended the moment he bought you.”

“I think that goes for all of us here.”

“What we’re trying to say is… You probably won’t live to see the next full moon.”

Elara

The revelation falls upon me, chilling the blood in my veins. The silence is such that the air leaving my lungs in a ragged gasp seems to echo throughout the room. All eyes are on me. I dig my nails into the palms of my hands, holding back the urge to scream at everyone to stop looking at me as if I were already dead. Until my heart says otherwise, I’m very much alive and ready to fight. I won’t let them destroy me so easily.

What nonsense am I thinking? For God’s sake, he’s a vampire. He could break all my bones with a simple movement of his hand.

Other doors swing wide open and instead of allowing in a new member of our club of newly purchased lambs, a rather large group of women bursts in. Their dresses look expensive, made of the finest fabrics by the finest tailors, surely, with lavish necklines and sleeves ending in cascades of lace. The excessively red shade of their lips is the first thing that puts me on alert, followed by the cold touch of a hand on my elbow.

“Come,” says one of them without barely looking at me. “We must prepare you for him.”

They tug at me without any delicacy. My feet anchor to the ground for a second, the time it takes to remember the situation I’m in, and then I let them lead me away. I cast one last glance at the others before the doors shut tightly behind me. I observe the woman and the rest of the entourage. All of them have faces white as alabaster, smooth skin without imperfections and lips as red as poppies. Vampires, all of them are.

A shiver tiptoes down my spine.

“Hurry.” She pulls harder on my arm. “It’s better if you don’t make him wait too long. You won’t like the consequences.”

Another one steps forward and pulls aside a thick curtain of shiny red velvet that conceals a bathtub with enormous golden feet.

Several hands begin to roam over my body, getting rid of the silk that covers me. I am naked within seconds, and their lack of control over their strength makes their grip painful. I suppress a whimper as they force me to walk and immerse myself in the water.

What I can’t suppress is a moan of pure relief when my skin touches the hot water. They scrub my arms with such force that they quickly turn red. They make me feel as though I had walked all my life with a layer of filth on my skin. They scrub and scrub, while other hands massage my hair and rinse it with water.

With the same strength as before, they make me stand and wrap me quickly in a silk robe.

“A tied-up hairstyle will be the best option,” says the same woman as before. “It will help mask her scent a bit.”

I don’t miss the way she wrinkles her nose as she says this. I stare at her, captivated by her beauty. Are all these monsters this beautiful? Her hair is the most intense red I’ve ever seen, and its exceptional shine creates an incredible contrast with the paleness of her angular face. She has eyes the color of summer meadows and voluptuous lips.

The rest obey the orders of the one I’ll now consider their leader. They pull at my hair, making my eyes water more than once. They brush, shape, and arrange the strands to their liking. They examine my hands, file my nails, and smear ointments on them.

“The master wants her to wear this dress,” says another, bringing the garment wrapped in tissue paper.

At the same time, other hands begin to roam my body, sliding fabrics that even my fingers hesitate to touch for fear of damaging them. I don’t know how much time passes under the attention of these women, but eventually, the woman with the intense green eyes uncovers a full-length mirror where I can see my appearance.

My hair is gathered in elaborate braids ending in a low bun at the nape of my neck. I’m not wearing a corset or anything like that, and I feel strangely free. My back tingles with cold and a glance confirms it is completely bare down to the curve of my buttocks. I blink in disbelief. This dress is nothing like the ones we wear in the village; it’s different.

The sheer fabric is a grayish blue, with cords tied around my neck. I can’t see my feet, hidden by the hem of the wide skirt. They place high heels in front of me and quickly put them on me. Everything seems to have been chosen in my size. They throw a black cloak over my shoulders and deft fingers tie it at my chest.

“We’ve done what we could.”

“Let’s hope it’s enough.”

“The appearance of his bloodmaids is very important.”

I don’t know if they’re talking to me, among themselves, or just voicing their thoughts aloud.

“Come, we must go.”

They grab my elbow again, forcing me to walk so quickly that I stumble and bump into the red-haired woman’s back. She gives me a severe look and bares her fangs in warning. I stare back at her, refusing to lower my gaze. She doesn’t yield either, staying in the same position until another of the entourage touches her shoulder soothingly and urges us to continue.

As soon as we pass again through the velvet curtain, a large, broad-shouldered man walks by us. He moves quickly, with a regal bearing, and his body language makes it clear he’s not pleased. I keep staring at him and it seems like his eyes meet mine as he passes.

In his irises, I find the coldest blue I’ve ever seen.

I lose my breath, and the others seem to mimic me.

“Master,” they whisper in unison.

I look around, not understanding anything.

“Hurry,” they scold me. “The carriage is waiting.”

I do as I’m told and exit through the back door of the church. In front of us rests a carriage in the shiniest black with intricate silver carvings. A coachman opens the door for me, but I can’t enter without first looking back. I know it’s foolish, I know no one I know will be behind me. Still, I do it, as if my family were watching.

My eyes fill with tears when all I see is the empty street and the light from inside the building reflecting on the ground.