Page 9 of Auctioned for Her Blood
He turns to Shana. “I will give you my decision at the event.” He steps out from behind the table and once again directs all his attention on me. “Perhaps I will make a bid on your lot in the live auction, Ms. Cross.”
“Call me Ember, please.” I try to regain control of my trembling voice. “But I’m not going to the gala.”
His head cocks to the side. “Why ever not?”
My chest tightens. “I’m not a party sort of person.”
“But the organization’s accountant should be present at such an important event.” He turns to Shana.
I take a step back, my throat tightening. Shana and I have already hashed this out, and she agreed to let me off the hook, just as she has for our past galas and nighttime board meetings, but shame is stretching its monstrous hands inside me. My irrational fear of the night is impacting my job.
“I’ve worked with our fundraising manager to develop airtight procedures and controls for the event,” I tell Zuben. “I assure you that the auction bids and other donations will be properly handled.”
“Since you are so well prepared—” Zuben smiles “—you will be free to enjoy the evening.”
“Ember can’t go to the gala,” Shana interjects.
“Why ever not?” he asks, his persistence leaving me both flattered and full of shame.
Shana’s lips twist, a clear sign she’s trying to figure out how to explain, without being rude or betraying my confidence—both things she’s loath to do. “Are you making her attendance a condition of your donation? Because that’s not—”
“I’m afraid of the dark,” I blurt to rescue my boss. It’s my issue and I certainly don’t want to do anything to jeopardize the donation.
Zuben’s attention snaps toward me. “I don’t understand. Surely the event will have adequate lighting?”
“Yes. Of course.” I shake my head. “It’s just that…” I’ve never felt more like a toddler, and his gaze is filled with intense interest, like a scientist with a newfound discovery.
“I apologize,” he says, “if I have again overstepped.”
“No apology required,” I say offering an embarrassed smile. My fear is foolish, not to mention childish. I draw a long breath. “I’ll see you there.”
A smile spreads across his unnaturally handsome face, and my body heats as his gaze penetrates my skin.
Chapter Three
Ryker
My eyes open slowly.It’s dark, wherever the hell I am, and my tongue, thick from hunger, drags off the roof of my mouth like Velcro, leaving the taste of my own blood.
Holy shit, my body aches. Did I fall asleep on a rock?
Shifting, I discover bindings around my wrists, and wince as they burn. Fucking silver!
Panic grips my chest, but I take long breaths to hold that particular monster at bay, one that hasn’t plagued me for nearly a century.Keep calm, I tell myself.I might have been captured, but I’m not at sea. That nightmare is long over.
And yet Iamcaptive. Somewhere. This isn’t a nightmare.
My night vision improves to offer a few clues. What the bloody hell did I get up to last night?
The last thing I remember…
Oh! That human wench! I took her vein right after I fucked her… Was her blood dosed? Shedidseem too good to be true.
“Fuck!” I yell into the dark void that’s clearly an interrogation room. Shit. It’s got to be DEFTA, the biggest and most powerful vampire syndicate in the North East—hell, the entire country. How the hell did they snag me this time? I can think of several reasons as towhy…
Using my night vision I confirm my suspicions, spotting DEFTA’s ensign on a plaque at the end of the room—a lovely little number featuring a seventeen century carving of a man, ridiculously wearing a tall, wide brimmed hat and fancy long coat while wrestling a bear.
The Dutch and English Fur Trading Alliance publicly rebranded themselves as DEFTA during the anti-fur movements of the last century. Not that DEFTA was much involved in the fur trade for the better part of two hundred years before that.
