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.