Page 28 of Auctioned for Her Blood
Ryker pulls back the side of his leather jacket, and my body tenses. For a split second, I expect a stake, but instead, he flashes several gold bars stashed in the coat’s lining, letting me know that he is willing to pay millions to win her.
Fine. He might be attracted to the lovely Ember, he might even sense that she is special, but there is no chance that he knows what I know. I have been researching the possibility of her existence for centuries, and this lazy, likely illiterate pirate might be drawn to the scent of her blood; he might want to feed from her, to bed her, but he does not want her in the same way that I do.
In fact, bidding at all was foolish on my part. Ryker’s attention on Ember is only to raise my anger—payback for having him brought in for questioning.
Well, I have a payback plan of my own. Glaring at the pirate, it is hard not to smile. I will let him win this auction. But first I will make sure that Ryker empties that foolish jacket of all its gold bars, providing me with evenmoreproof of his crimes. And with that proof, I will have him imprisoned, clearing my path to complete my research with the beautiful and delicious Ember.
Chapter Nine
Ember
Nerves scramblelike a million ants loose inside me, but through that discomfort I can’t deny that my nerves are at least in part fueled by excitement.
After Shana stopped the live auction—was that just last night?—Ryker and Zuben held a private discussion that ended with Ryker donating another three gold bars to Sanctuary House for the privilege of taking me out to dinner. In total, Ryker donated four bold bars to our charity, counting the one he gave to cover his ticket, and that’s well over three million dollars. Nuts.
Nuts doesn’t begin to describe it.
And even stranger, in spite of his warnings to me about Ryker, Zuben didn’t seem all that disappointed once it was settled and, once again, offered to help Shana handle the gold bars.
I immediately wondered if Zuben had some scheme to steal the gold, but today’s events proved me wrong. With Zuben’s help, Shana sold two of the four gold bars, and the transactions were verifiably real—I’ve seen the records of the deposits into our bank account. And the other two bars are in a safety deposit box at our branch as a long-term investment for the charity. The board has scheduled an emergency meeting for Monday to discuss plans for our organization’s windfall.
Ryker’s massive donation is verifiably real.
I have irrefutable proof of his incredible generosity, and I can’t believe that a man like Ryker is interested in dinner with someone like me. Interested enough to pay millions.
Counting the minutes until he’s due to arrive, I lean against the large window of my ninth floor condo apartment, as the late afternoon sun glints off the center city office buildings in the distance. Tonight will be my second time out after dark, and it can’t possibly be as eventful as the first. I push away from the window. It’s time to get ready.
At Shana’s urging, I went shopping after work, buying the second fancy dress of my life. I was planning to wear something more casual, or the red dress from last night, but Shana’s right: there is no chance that a man who dropped nearly three million dollars is going to take me someplace casual. And I shouldn’t wear the same dress two nights in a row.
A quick shower and blow dry later, I slip into my new dress and stare at my image. The pale pink satin skims my body and shines when it catches the light. I can’t do a bra or proper panties with this dress either—do people not wear undergarments anymore?—and the dress leaves most of my back exposed, with only a thin strip of vertical fabric, just wide enough to accommodate the zipper, stretching from very low on my back and up to my neck. The dress has a sheer jacket, so I won’t be quite this naked.
I reach back to pull up the zipper. But no matter how much I struggle and twist, there’s a point that I can’t pull the zipper past. In the store, the saleslady did the zipper, and it didn’t occur to me that I wouldn’t be able to do it myself at home.
Frustrated, I give up momentarily, and finish getting ready, putting on my strappy silver shoes, some of the red lipstick that Shana gave me last night, and then I fasten my hair back with two rhinestone covered clips.
Determined, I try for the zipper again, hoping my shoulders were just tense on the first attempt. I fold one arm back and push up while bending the other behind my head, trying to catch onto the zipper’s tag. My hands refuse to meet.
Just a little bit further. I’ve just about got it.
My doorbell rings.
I drop my arms, and my shoulder’s throb. But that sensations quickly forgotten as my heart pounds and my mouth goes dry. I glance at my phone. It’s 6:05. Ryker said he would pick me up around 7:00. I remember, because I knew it would be well after dark. Did I misunderstand? Is he early?
I make one final attempt at the zipper, but there’s a second knock at the door, this one louder and more urgent, so I grab the sheer jacket and small handbag and make a dash for the entrance.
Ryker knocks a third time—so eager to see me!—and I open the door.
But it’s not Ryker. It’s Zuben.
Mouth gaping I step back. “What are you doing here?”
I thrill races through me as I take in his imposing presence, tall and dark and devastating, with his heavily lashed eyes, his long, sculpted nose, and his lips that… I’ve never seen such richly, red lips that weren’t sporting lipstick, and while he’s dressed more casually today, a fitted crew neck cashmere sweater under a blazer, he’s still so put together and gorgeous he could be straight off the page of a fashion magazine.
“Good evening, Ember.” His voice is rich and flavored with an accent I still can’t place, but is one of the sexiest things I’ve ever heard. “I am here to apologize,” he says. “I am exceedingly sorry that I made you uncomfortable last night. I would very much like the chance to explain.”
Is he here to try to stop me from going out with Ryker? Does he even know my date is tonight? “How did you get my address?”
“From Shana.”
