Page 8 of Monsters in Love

The emcee continues. “We will have a clean exchange tonight. This is your only warning. When the lot is sold, the house will hold it in trust until we seal your contracts. Once you transfer your credits to the house, and you have your contract in hand, then and only then, are you able to claim the lot. At that point, the house no longer lays claim to it nor will extend any protections toward it. You will be on your own.”

An appreciative murmur rumbles throughout the crowd, with several of the males savagely grinning. They caught the hint in the emcee’s words. Once the lot is under new ownership, the house will turn a blind eye to any poaching, should any allegedly occur.

The satyr gives a sly smile, tut-tutting the crowd with a wag of his finger. “Remember. Until the moment of the exchange, any lot is still the property of the house and as such, you will respect our property.” He snarls the last word, which the labyrinth walls echo in a cavernous yawn. A reminder of the fate of those who misbehave.

Anger simmers within me at how he speaks of the slaves imprisoned here. I slide among the shadows, moving silently toward the Taurine guards that are bound to this house. Cuffed, collared, and pierced, the labyrinth and the ruling house owns them now, mind, body, and soul.

Each guard has a small section to oversee. I take the Taurine at the closest to the back, binding him with restraints and leaving his unconscious body tucked into a pantry. I take off my jacket, wrapping it around my hips. In the low light of the arena, it would pass as the loin covering that the others wore. His cuffs barely fit around my wrists. I refuse to wear the nose or ear piercings. No one would look too closely at me, anyway. Their attention would be on their prize.

I weave my way back among the crowd, moving in the slow, zombie-like way of a captive Taurine.

“Now then. The first lot is a treasure. A diamond in the rough that even we did not want to part with. However, as the saying goes, ‘the gods giveth and the gods taketh away.’”

The satyr sweeps his arm to the side as a pillar of black smoke flumes from the stage next to him. The stage lights cast a stunning contrast against the pitch black gloom that hovers within. It looks like magic. Except, I know it hides a portal and if you know where to look, you can see the outline of one forming.

Where it originates is the mystery that I intend to solve.

When the blackness disappears, a lone figure stands in the middle of the circular stage. It’s not Adalyn.

This female is taller, leaner, and she holds herself as proud as any queen. Though she trembles, she does not lower her gaze as the satyr presents her before the crowd. The diaphanous cloth that drapes strategically over her body does nothing to hide her glorious brown nipples or the triangle of her sex. Her golden bronze skin gleams like burnished silk, offering a striking contrast to the long blue hair that tumbles down her back and curls around the generous rise of her breasts.

Karis.

She is perfect. And she is mine. Twin heart beats roar to life within me at the sight of her. As plainly as I know my name and rank, so, too, do I know that the softer beat, the shadow beat, is one that pulses from our entwined souls. If I were to place my ear against her chest, her heart would echo mine.

My mate.

The urge to hide her body from view pulses through me, but I stay rooted to where I stand. This needs to play out. I cannot afford to trigger the labyrinth’s defense systems.

And so I wait, letting the discipline of my training take over. Memorizing every lecherous glance and smirking face, filing them away into my mental catalog. Once she is safe, I will hunt each one of them down and gift her their charred remains.

Karis

The spotlights break my trance. Pinpricks shoot down my left arm, and I welcome the bite of pain.

Hello, nerves, nice of you to regain sensation.

I still can’t tell my body to run—not like I can get far—but I can sort of curl my fingers, so I’ll count that as progress. The goat man is playing some kind of announcer, and I realize belatedly that beyond the circle of light on me, there is an audience.

They are little more than silhouettes, many of which seem to have horns. I’m not so sure I want to see the crowd. Especially when the white noise turns distinctly feral. Hisses, growls, and grunts; at one point, there is a sustained roar, low and almost…territorial. Others challenge him down, adding their own bestial responses to the cacophony.

I wish I could pretend that they’re all arguing about something among themselves. Politics, perhaps, or how wonderful their food is and could they have more? The way goat man prances on stage, though, working the crowd, pointing at one shadowy figure after the other, disabuses me of that fanciful hope.

Especially when there is one final low growl that is followed by a hush for a full second after. Goat man’s eyes darken with unrepentant excitement, a triumphant grin breaking across his face as he slashes his finger toward the one who made that last offer.

“Sold!”

The goat man clip-clopped over to me as a dark mist surrounds the stage once more. He runs his fingers down my hair, patting my cheek as if he’s proud of me. It takes all of my strength not to flinch from his touch.

“I knew you would garner the highest price.” He giggles to himself. “That’s why I needed you out first, while everyone’s pockets are nice and deep. And now, they’ll all fight for the privilege of emptying their wallets of every last bit of credit on the rest.”

I calculate the amount of slaves being held in the cages I saw. Even if the buyers have deep pockets, there is no way that every single slave will be sold tonight.

If there were leftover girls, then they might be here for who knows how long. And who knows what kind of lascivious desires they will have to satisfy?

A single tear rolls down my cheek.

He takes it and licks it off the tip of his finger. He shivers. “It’s almost a shame that you have to leave so soon. I didn’t even sample the goods. At least I have a chance with that friend of yours,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows. “Serge took advantage of the early buy-out offer for her, and he likes an audience.”

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