Chapter 2

• Each time the bidding began, hands shot up casually, as if they were purchasing livestock. Prices ranged from 6 to 20 thousand dollars, money exchanged without hesitation.
• I felt sick. Every clap, every shout of victory after a sale turned my stomach.
• Couldn’t they see? Couldn’t they understand that what they were doing was monstrous?
• I clenched my fists under the table. Slavery wasn’t just wrong—it was a stain on humanity’s soul. And yet, in my world, it was not only allowed but celebrated. My parents thrived on it. They reveled in it.
• The stage was the last place I wanted to focus on. My attention had been drifting since the auction began, but when I lifted my gaze, I noticed the figure standing beneath the harsh light.
• A vampire.
• My eyes lingered on him longer than I meant them to. He stood with his wrists bound in iron restraints, posture stiff yet defiant, messy black hair falling across his pale face. His skin was as white as porcelain, so stark it seemed to glow under the dim lamps. Something about him felt… magnetic. Wrong, but magnetic.
• And though I told myself I didn’t support this barbarity, I also knew the truth: I wasn’t getting out of here without a slave. My parents wouldn’t allow it. With a shaky breath, I lifted the bidding paddle.
• “We have another bid!” the speaker’s voice rang across the room.
• A ripple of interest passed through the crowd, and then his voice lifted in a tone of mock delight. “Oh, and if it isn’t the princess herself! Welcome, Your Majesty!”
• Every head turned toward me. Heat rose to my cheeks as I shifted in my seat, trying to ignore their collective stares.
• “Would anyone like to challenge the princess’s bid?” the speaker teased.
• Silence.
• Of course. No one was foolish enough to outbid royalty.
• “Going once… going twice… and sold, to our lovely Princess Clara!” His grin stretched wide, pleased with the spectacle.
• The guards pulled the vampire from the stage and led him away. He didn’t resist, but there was a simmering sharpness in his gaze, like a knife behind glass. Then he vanished from sight.
• I leaned close to Mr. Philip, my parents’ trusted advisor. “Can we leave now?”
• “If you wish, Your Majesty.” He inclined his head.
• “Please.”
• We slipped from our seats, leaving the crowd’s whispers behind, and returned to the reception desk where I was made to sign a document declaring my ownership. The ink stained my name across the page like an accusation. When the paper was returned, the vampire was handed over to me as though he were a prize horse or a set of keys. I hated every second of it.
• Philip led us outside where the limo waited. He opened the back door and I gestured for the vampire to go first. He stepped in without a word. I followed, sliding into the opposite seat.
• The ride was quiet, save for the hum of the engine. My nerves played at the edges of my skin, my fingers fussing with the sleeves of my sweater. I finally looked across at him.
• “Um… I’m Clara,” I said, offering a tentative smile.
• His expression didn’t shift. His eyes were dark, unreadable, his posture loose but edged with disdain.
• “What’s your name?” I tried again.
• “Whatever you want it to be.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.
• I bit my lip. “I’d rather know what it actually is.”
• He leaned back, almost amused. “Dennis.”
• “Well… it’s nice to meet you, Dennis.” My smile was weak, and I knew it.
• A low chuckle escaped him, humorless. “Oh, I’m sure it is.”
• The unease pooled heavier in my chest. I lowered my gaze to my lap and said nothing more.
• The silence lasted until the castle’s gates appeared. Inside, I led him to my parents’ office, knocking lightly before stepping into the doorway.
• “I’m back,” I announced.
• My mother sat at her desk, quill in hand, her eyes sliding immediately to the figure behind me. Her smile curved sharp. “Lovely. It wasn’t so bad, was it?”
• “Right,” I muttered, lacing the word with scorn.
• Her smile faltered. “I don’t even want to hear it.”
• I rolled my eyes and left before she could say more.
• Dennis followed quietly as I led him upstairs to my room. “Bathroom’s there,” I said, pointing to the west doorway. “Feel free to shower. I assume you’ll want to.”
• He gave a single, noncommittal look and slipped inside, closing the door.
• I hurried into my brother Eustace’s empty room and grabbed some clothes—dark jeans, a shirt, a belt. They wouldn’t fit perfectly, but they’d do. By the time I returned, Dennis was already stepping out of the bathroom with only a towel around his waist. I froze for half a heartbeat before quickly holding out the clothes.
• “They’re my brother’s,” I muttered, eyes deliberately sliding away from his bare chest. “They should work for now.”
• He took them without a word and disappeared again. I sat on the edge of the bed, phone in hand, and replied to a text from Eustace.
• When Dennis reappeared, he wore the jeans—slightly loose but cinched with the belt—and the shirt. Somehow, even in borrowed clothes, he carried himself with a kind of careless authority.
• “Do they fit?” I asked.
• “Sure.” His tone was flat.
• I studied him a moment longer. “How old are you?”
• “Seventeen,” he said with a straight face.
• “For real?”
• “No. Obviously not.”
• I raised a brow. “Then how old are you really?”
• He shrugged. “Old.”
• That earned a quiet laugh from me. “Fair enough.”
• His gaze sharpened. “How old are you?”
• “Fifteen. Today.”
• His lips twitched in something between amusement and disbelief. “You look older.”
• “Thanks?” I said uncertainly.
• Before either of us could continue, a knock came at the door.
• “Come in,” I called.
• My mother’s assistant, Ma’am Betty, entered with a small bow. “Princess Clara, your parents request your presence.”