“The best thing I can tell you is to relax. It’s going to hurt the first time. Just like everything else, right?” She gives a wry smile, as if we’re all girlfriends dishing over cocktails. “But you’ll get used to it. I’ll be at that table by the wall if any of you need me, but… try not to need me. Honestly, you’ll do better in the long run if you navigate on your own from the start. They sometimes like to pit tributes against one another. Don’t buy into it, it’ll just cause trouble for you. I—” She breaks off, glancing toward the high table. “Oh! Time to go. Good luck, girls!”
She strides gracefully away to join two other women at a table by the wall. I wonder if they’re other matrons in charge of keeping an eye on the female “stock.”
The tables around us start to fill up with women, other blood tributes who’ve been here longer than we have. They all have their hair pulled up away from their necks. I expect to see scars and holes on the more experienced tributes’ throats, but there aren’t any—at least, none I can pick up from this distance. If the scars are there, they’re small.
The entire room is filling up fast now, with humans and vampires alike, but I have yet to see any male tributes. I’m almost relieved. I don’t know yet how I’m going to get a message to Nathan without setting off all kinds of alarms, and I could really use a night to solve that problem.
My attention is everywhere as sounds and activity fill the large hall. I force myself to look around slowly, in no particular kind of pattern, rather than flick my eyes all over searching for weak spots. It’s harder than I thought it would be, but I keep taking deep, slow breaths, letting my tension gather in spots where it won’t be noticeable as I keep my face relaxed.
I can feel the vampires in the room, feel their gazes on me, their hunger and debauchery. I’m crouched behind enemy lines, and I’ve got to look like I enjoy the experience.
As I continue to subtly scan the room, my gaze drifts toward the high table—and my heart almost stops.
He’s attacking her.
The dark-haired vampire sitting on the throne is clutching a scantily-clad woman in a hungry embrace, his mouth buried in her neck.
My stomach twists. Every fiber of my being itches to take him down right here and now so I can save that poor girl. But then she moans. I snap my attention to her face. Her mouth is open, red and full, her brow creased, her arms twisting to grip the chair. She’s writhing, yes… but not to escape.
Holy fucking shit, she’s about to come.
My twisted stomach flips in a weird way, a new way, pouring lava down my insides, melting me to my core. I don’t even recognize the feeling at first. I don’t get aroused like this, not unless I’m super drunk and kneeling in front of washboard abs. Even then, it’s not intense like this. Sex is a tool. Like stilettos or whiskey or a really good blade. My job demands regular, efficient release. Sex with a stranger is the best way to get it.
But sex with a stranger has never, ever made me feel like this.
I can’t look away. I’m disgusted, horrified, but that doesn’t seem to make any difference to my fucking body.
She’s in ecstasy. How is that possible?
I’ve seen vampires feed more times than I can count. It’s always brutal. Their victims beg if they can, cry out in agony if they can’t, and are always left dead or traumatized. This girl doesn’t look traumatized at all. She looks blissful, like there’s nowhere else on earth she’d rather be.
I must stare for too long, or maybe I make a noise without realizing it. As if he’s sensed my attention, the dark haired vampire opens his eyes. His gaze snaps to mine, pinning me in place with irises that are the exact shade of dark gray as storm clouds.
Chapter Six
Fight.
Run.
Freeze.
The conflicting impulses to do all three of those things ricochet through me as my eyes lock with his.
God, I wish I had my weapons on me.
I’d be an idiot to use them in here, but just having the cold steel pressed against my thighs would make me feel better.
My heart’s racing. Dammit. I need to breathe, need to slow it down, but the darkly handsome vampire at the head table is still watching me. He slides his fangs out of the woman’s throat, and she squeaks a little moan, like he’d just pulled his dick out. He licks the blood off her neck and his tongue closes her wounds.
They can do that? Motherfucker. Those bastard street vamps never do that.
He gives her a sultry look and gently pushes her off his lap. She gazes back at him like she’s in love, her chest rising and falling with deep breaths as she turns and wobbles happily away. But he’s not watching her go. No, his gaze has settled on me again, and it feels like he’s looking right through me.
A shiver trickles through me as he licks the last few drops of blood from his lips. He looks predatory. Possessive. Terrifying.
So why does he also look sexy?
“Oh god. Do you think she’s his bonded?” The full-figured blonde girl beside me poses the question to no one in particular.
A sparkly-eyed redhead with a perfect build, perfect skin, and perfectly symmetrical face picks up a fork and toys with it, laughing softly as she eyes the blonde girl. “Fuck, no. Don’t you keep your ears open at all? Prince Bastian doesn’t keep bonded humans. He prefers to… sample the whole buffet, so to speak.”
I frown. “That doesn’t make sense. He’s the prince, isn’t he? He could have anyone he wanted, and as many of them as he wants.”
The redhead purses her lips at me and flicks a handful of perfectly manicured fingernails dismissively. “You know how men are, don’t you? He’s a wild one, from what I hear. Doesn’t want to get tied down, doesn’t want to be stuck with any one tribute for too long.” She smiles sweetly at me, but I can see behind the mask well enough to know she might as well be baring her teeth. “I don’t think I got your name, sweetheart. Who are you?”
“Darcy,” I say flatly.
“Winona,” she drawls, extending a hand.
I shake it briefly. I’ve got callouses on my callouses and enough strength built up to crush her dainty little bones. A flash of disgust crosses her face, but she tucks it quickly behind her perfectly friendly mask.
“And you?” she asks the blonde beside me.
“Chelsea,” the blonde drawls, as if it doesn’t matter anyway.
“My name’s Jessica.” The girl I spoke to in the hall pipes up. She sounds a little desperate for a friend.
Winona dismisses her with a cutting glance. “Nobody cares, sweets. You obviously don’t want to be here. The vampires will sense that about you, and you’ll get stuck in general tribute limbo forever. Just accept it.”
Jessica’s face twists like she’s about to cry again. I clear my throat and lean forward, then remember I’m conversing with women and sit up straight instead. I’m used to dealing with monsters and men—there’s a whole different set of body language rules for that.
“General tribute seems like a better role in the long run,” I say. “Being bonded to a vampire sounds kind of crappy.”
Winona’s eyes widen in shock. “What? Come on, be realistic. Would you really rather be common fodder for all the vampires, for any nobody to stick his fangs in whenever he wants to, to be passed around like some prostitute?”