Margot“Daddy, please don’t do this.” My father ignores my pleas and shrugs off my hand, grimacing and brushing his sleeve as if my fingers have dirtied him. The one man in my life who is supposed to love and protect me no matter what has betrayed me. Again. My father pushes me out of the SUV’s open door. I fall to my knees on the dirt road in front of a huge warehouse. I glimpse the busted-out, cracked windows lined with brown paper bags. My heart pounds, and my vision swims. This can’t be happening. He yanks me to my feet. “Get the fuck up.” There’s nothing. No sign, no cars, no people. And no lights other than the full moon and a single red light above the door. His grip pushes the thin gold bracelet deep into my wrist. I’ve worn it for the past five years. Ever since I was thirteen—when I was supposed to get my dragon. It’s kept me from reaching her ever since. I don’t even know if I can, if I even have a dragon. I’ve read that some people born to dragon shifters never get their dragon because our genes aren’t strong enough anymore. “Please,” I whisper. “Why does it have to be me?” He grabs the back of my neck and pulls me close to speak into my ear. “Keep your mouth shut.” I already know the answer. It’s because I remind him too much of my mother. My stepmother and her daughters have taken any scraps of love my father might have had for me and used them all up. Just like they’ve used up all of his wealth. I’m not the one who’s put him in debt, but I’m the one he’s going to sell to get out of it. Dragons are supposed to be possessive, to protect and hoard their belongings. But it’s clear my father didn’t get that gene when it came to me. As soon as I turned eighteen, my father announced he was selling me. At the enormous metal door, he knocks. A small window slides open. “Name?” comes a male voice from inside. “Winston Brummel.” The window snaps shut, and the door opens toward us. My father yanks me in behind him. A skinny man with tattoos up his neck and slicked-back dark hair sits behind a podium. I catch of a glimpse of his dragon in his eyes as he looks me over and his pupils turn to vertical slits. He has a little black notebook in his hand and turns to my father. “Item number Fifty-Two,” my father says. The man eyes the bruises on my arm, makes a notation in his little black book, and motions my father to head down a long, dark hallway. It opens into a large room that takes my breath away. Sparkling crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, and bottles of fancy-looking liquor line the mirrored back bar in the corner. Barely dressed women are making drinks for men in expensive tuxedos. Opposite us is a large stage in front of rows of plush loveseats, high-back chairs, and assorted couches. I’ve always known my father was rich—most dragons are—but this is more than I could have imagined. An older man walks up, leering at me as a server passes by with drinks on a black acrylic tray. The man reaches out and grabs her ass, but she doesn’t so much as glance our way, just continues walking as if his assault is expected. He has a thin black line of mustache and a balding head that shines under the lights. I shudder as he flicks his tongue out at me repeatedly like a snake trying to taste its prey. I haven’t been around humans much. This man looks…weak, is the only way I can describe him. But also like he’s used to getting whatever he wants. However he wants it. He’s wealthy, like my father, and the men he invites to our home. “I heard you were bringing a treat to the auction tonight, and you didn’t disappoint, Winston. This one looks delightful.” The man licks his thin lips and scans the bruises on my arms, souvenirs from my stepmother and half-sisters. “She even looks a little broken in, too. Just like I prefer them. How do you make the marks stay, though? She is of your kind, isn’t she?” I don’t want this man to like me, and I try to step behind my father even though I know he’ll offer no protection. The man reaches out to stroke a chilly finger along my arm. Not surprisingly, Father lets him. He grins. “She’s definitely of my kind.” He lifts my arm to show off my bracelet. “Hexed gold with a dragon slayer’s blood in the core. She’s powerless to access her dragon.” Klaus looks intrigued. “Can she remove it?” My father snorts. “Not a chance. It’s permanent, and I killed the witch who placed it to be doubly sure.” Klaus swipes his tongue over his lips. “Any restrictions on the merchandise?” “None. Once it’s sold, I never want to see or hear about it again. Do what you please. No returns, of course.” “Of course,” Klaus coos. “So, I can dispose of it in any means I desire. That’s promising.” The blood rushes out of my head, and the room starts spinning. I knew I was being auctioned off to become a rich man’s sex slave, but this is worse. Anyone who buys me can do whatever they want with me. Even kill me. For years, I’ve yearned to be free of my father’s rage and the abuse from his beloved second family…but not like this. “You never want to see it again? Did I hear you correctly, Brummel?” A new voice. Deep, dripping with chocolate and honey and savage, almost like a growl. Unexpected warmth rushes through me and stirs low in my belly. The gold bracelet burns me. I have practice holding back my cries when I’m being hurt, but I’ve never felt a pain like this. This man swivels to look at the sound of my tiny whimper. His blue eyes pierce mine. Another slow roll of sensation centers between my thighs. Fresh pain stings me, but this time, a pleasure echoes with it. I barely suppress a moan that I can’t tell is of fear…or something else. This man is more dangerous than Klaus.
MargotI can’t stop staring at him. Hair the color of black licorice brushes the cheekbones of his perfectly tanned face, and his suit looks stupidly expensive. His white button-up shirt shows a peek of a chiseled chest, and I’m angry with myself for not looking away. He intrigues me and disgusts me at the same time. I fight the butterflies swirling in my stomach as he looks me up and down, his eyes flashing amber with his dragon. As if he’s hungry. And…is that a hint of smoke coming from his nostrils? “Whoever wins her can do whatever they want with her.” Father gives the man a snide grin. “If you want her, you’ll have to pay big, Harrison. No returns or refunds on this one.” The sound of disgust in his voice sends wave after wave of shame boiling inside me. If my own father despises me enough to do this, to sell me, what are the chances anyone here will find enough value in me to buy me? And what will he do to me then, if I can’t even earn him the money he needs? Harrison steps toward me. He’s so close I can feel his body heat as he slides a finger down my cheek. A swirl of emotion twists around my spine before he pinches my chin between his fingers. His grip is hard, just shy of hurting me. A look I can’t interpret shines in his eyes. That hidden spot between my thighs tingles, and his nostrils flare—definitely a wisp of smoke this time. Almost imperceptible. Embarrassed heat floods me. He’s scenting me, and the sensation between my legs tells me exactly what he can smell. Again, my wrist burns. I don’t understand what’s happening to me—only that I want it to stop and also wish it will never go away. “I can’t imagine possessing something as exquisite as this and ever letting it go.” He squeezes my chin just a bit harder, until my lips part. He studies my open mouth with narrowed eyes. Assessing. Calculating. Roughly, he pushes my face away from his touch, and I almost stumble. Without a word, Harrison stalks toward the black leather couch near the center of the stage. He sits in the middle, his ankle over his knee and one arm draped across the back of the couch as he looks at his phone. “You might be worth more than I thought, Margot.” “Who was that?” “Shut up.” Father yanks me to a chair in front of the stage. “Bidding’s about to begin.” A man in a long, black, hooded robe steps up to a podium holding a black gavel. “First up, we have Item Thirty-Seven, a seventeen-year-old virgin. Human. Natural red hair and blue eyes. And yes, the carpet does indeed match the drapes.” There’s a smattering of chuckles, and my stomach rolls. They’re selling humans here, too, not just dragons? I look around at the men and women in their expensive clothes, laughing like this is some kind of party. I guess to them, it is. No more outrageous than buying a painting or a pony. “This item is lease-only for thirty days. Item must be returned to the owner without any permanent marks, tattoos, or scars of any kind. Item has a clean bill of health. As with all of our auction items tonight, our doctor can verify innocence for a small fee before leaving the premises if the winning bidder so desires.” No returns. Father’s words echo in my head. Terror dries my throat and freezes me solid. Wildly, I look around and spot Harrison on the black couch. He’s not looking at his phone now. His avid gaze, flashing amber, is pinned… On me. The ringing in my ears drowns out everything, and I can’t focus on anything happening around me. Girl after girl is paraded across the stage, the auctioneer listing their “attributes.” Virgin. Slightly broken-in. Experienced in extreme BDSM. Permanent marks permitted on torso only. Lease-to-own available. I don’t understand any of this. Who are these women? Some human, some dragons, all beautiful and terrified and broken. They can’t all belong to rich families down on their luck, can they? I hate the moment of hope that fills me at the thought—that I am not alone in my humiliation. “For our final auction, we present…Item Fifty-Two. Bidding starts at one hundred. Do I have one hundred thousand?” My legs are jelly as Father hands me off to the escort who leads me onstage. I don’t want to, but I look out into the crowd. I need to see what sort of people are out there and who will bid on me. Who might own me. Men and women of all ages stare back at me, assessing me, judging me, whispering to each other. One woman even holds a baby, and bile chokes me. Some prepare numbered signs to place a bid, including that man, Harrison. “Five hundred thousand!” Klaus yells, and I cringe. “Do I hear six hundred thousand?” The auctioneer pauses, and another sign pops up. “Do I see seven hundred thousand? Does anyone want to pay seven hundred thousand for this premium virgin? She’s yours to keep! No returns on this item.” “One million!” Klaus raises his number. My breath catches. Dear Goddess, please don’t let him win me. I close my eyes, to stop myself from fainting. “I am personally taking Item Fifty-Two as a Tribute,” Harrison’s dark honey and chocolate voice says. I open my eyes. Icy fire burns my wrist. My moan is lost as gasps scatter around the room, the whispers rising to a suffocating white noise. Tribute? What does that even mean?
Harrison What the fuck did I just do? Do I really intend to take this woman—the daughter of one of the most despicable pieces of shit I’ve ever met, as a Tribute? “Tribute? Harrison, be reasonable!” the dirtbag whines. “She’s worth a mill—” I take two steps toward him as my dragon rumbles, shining through my eyes, black scales rippling across the backs of my hands. I’m bigger than this prick. Stronger. Faster. I could lengthen my claws and tear him to shreds in seconds, and he knows it. I wouldn’t even need my fire against a pitiful shit like him. Incredibly, he whirls to face the auctioneer. “She had bids! There was money on the table!” “You know the rules, Brummel,” I say coldly. This asshole isn’t worth raising my voice for. “Yes, I know the rules, but—” “No buts. Hand the item over, or you know what happens.” The woman’s been silent this entire time. Her pale eyes are open wide. So’s her mouth. And fuck me to the darkest depths and back again, it’s that mouth that had me stepping up to declare that I was taking her. That and those lush curves, just aching for my hands on them. The moment I saw her, my dragon had surged, heating up and rising for her. I couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like to taste that untouched treasure between her thighs. It’s too much. I’m suspicious of it. I came here tonight to keep an eye on things at Laurent’s request, but none of the items up for bids tonight caused such a reaction in me or my dragon. The fact she’s Brummel’s daughter is enough for me to assume there’s something wrong with her. Virgin? Not likely. The man’s a cheat, through and through. I could change my mind. Send her off with Klaus, that disgusting weasel. He’ll use her, abuse her, might even do worse than that, but at least with him she’ll have a chance at surviving. If I take her as a Tribute to compete in the Games, I can almost guarantee she’s not going to make it. Not with those slender limbs, that weak constitution. She’s trembling. Can’t even meet my gaze head-on. I’m surprised she’s still on her feet, based on the way she’s swaying. “It’s unorthodox but completely within the regulations, Mr. Brummel,” the auctioneer says apologetically. “Unless you wish, as the property owner, to purchase the item yourself at an approved increment beyond the last bid…” Brummel goes pale. Obviously, he doesn’t have the money, which is why he’s selling off his daughter in the first place. He can’t match the price, which means— “She’s mine.” The growl ripples up my throat. The woman flinches at the sound of it, her eyes closing. She sags, then tumbles to the ground in a slow, graceful spiral. I’m aware of all eyes on us as her father bends to slap her face over and over, until I catch his hand on the upswing. I haul him off of her and shove him back. “Enough!” I growl, a low warning that has anyone near me taking a step away. Brummel sprawls on the floor, staring up at me in surprise. He opens his mouth to say something, but I growl again, and he abruptly closes it. One of the item escorts rushes forward with a bucket of water and a cloth. It’s not the first time an item has fainted on the auction floor. The escort dabs her face with the cloth, and another comes to rub her arms. “Everyone, please adjourn to the reception room,” the auctioneer announces to get people moving. “Winners, please visit the desk to settle up your accounts. Enjoy the rest of the evening!” This crowd loves a good drama, but they love free booze and food more. And many are eager to make it home with their new prizes. They disperse, some to the reception hall, others to the office. I’m left standing over Brummel’s daughter, who sits up with a woozy expression. Brummel struggles to his feet. I hold myself back from punching him back to the ground and letting my dragon out to rip him apart. Instead, I reach for the Tribute’s wrist to haul her upright. “The fuck is this?” I hold her against me since she’s still clearly unable to stand on her own. I hold out her arm and the gold band encircling it. No wonder she’s so weak. Brummel gives me a greasy grin. “Hexed. Means you can do whatever you want to her, and she can’t—” “Defend herself,” I say through gritted jaws. “Protect herself.” It makes her a lovely little slave, especially for the humans who get off on using our kind, but it makes her basically useless as a Tribute. As she presses against me, her scent rises. Arousal. Terror. Confusion, too. But more than that. That bracelet means she can’t access her dragon, which means mine can’t reach her. I have no clue what this connection could be, but I fucking hate it. I shove her off me but keep a grip on her arm until I’m sure she’s not going to keel over again. I wait until she looks into my eyes, her own hazed with uncertainty. “Let’s go,” I order. “We’re leaving.” She doesn’t move. Her gaze flickers from me to her father and then back again. She has no idea what’s about to happen to her. “It’s time to begin your training.”
Margot “What’s your name?” “Margot.” I stutter it out as I manage to follow. His legs are twice as long as mine, and I almost have to run to keep up. I’m afraid of what will happen if I don’t. “Don’t know why I’m even asking. Should just call you Fifty-Two,” he mutters. My stomach twists. I don’t know what a Tribute is, but the way my father reacted, I have to wonder if it’s worse than being sold off to Klaus. “Mr. Blackstone!” a voice calls. He stops so fast I run into his back. He holds me at a distance. His eyes are full of disdain. I’m still woozy, but I manage to stand—if only so Harrison doesn’t have to hold me up. I send one last look over my shoulder at Father. I wish I could believe he’s shaking with grief at losing me, but I know it’s with anger that he’s not getting paid for selling me. I don’t want to go back home, but at least there, I know what I’m getting. I can put up with the beatings, the chores. But the unknown of what this man might do to me… I rush to my father, tears streaming down my face. “Please don’t let him take me!” Father shoves me away. I reach for his arm, but he pulls it away as if my touch will burn him. “You’re his now. His…” He pauses, and then says, as if choking on the word, “Tribute.” Tribute. There’s that word again. With that, Father turns and walks away. I cover my face with my hands as I sob. Rough fingers bite into my bruised flesh and pull me away. “Stop. You’re making a fool of yourself.” I start to respond but somehow know better and shut my mouth. My body moves as if on autopilot. Harrison leads me out of the building. A black stretch limo waits outside, and Harrison opens the door. He raises an eyebrow at me, but I hesitate for too long; he pushes me into the backseat before coming in behind me. Before I can sit, he smacks my ass. Hard. Like I’m being spanked. Punished. My stomach flutters. A pulse centers between my legs. “Faster next time. Never hesitate when I tell you to do something.” I crawl to the farthest corner away from him. His lip curls as if I amuse him. I maneuver my body into a ball, making myself as small as possible. Harrison’s unbothered. He settles in the leather seat and pours a whiskey from the bar. Bright-red neon lights the interior in strange ways that give me an even bigger headache. My bottom still throbs from the slap. He opens a small icebox and drops a couple of cubes into his drink, swirling it around while eyeing me, the ice tinkling loudly in the silence. “Are you a virgin?” I nod. “You know I’ll check?” I nod again, wondering how he’ll do that. “Have you ever kissed a boy?” I shake my head. “What about a man?” He takes a swig of whiskey and narrows his eyes when I shake my head again. Is he going to kiss me? I squeeze my arms tighter around my legs. His eyes flash amber, and I can tell he likes that I’m afraid of him, of everything. “When we arrive at the compound, you do what you’re told—and immediately—when you’re told. You are not to ask questions, and you keep your eyes down. Do not look anyone in the eyes unless they tell you to. If you disobey any single one command, your punishment will be swift and harsh. Disobedience will not be tolerated. Is that understood?” “What will I be asked to do?” Harrison’s knuckles whiten around the glass. “I just told you not to ask questions. I’ve claimed you, so you belong to me. You have no agency, no autonomy, and never forget, you’re just one of many. You can be easily discarded if you are more trouble than you are worth.” He pauses for a drink and then enunciates each word he speaks next. “Is. That. Clear?” I swallow and nod. “Yes, sir.” One of many, I think. At least I won’t be alone. Harrison is silent for the rest of the ride, ignoring me. He refills his glass several more times and chugs each one in such a distinctly powerful way I can’t keep my eyes off him. The windows are tinted so dark that I can’t see much except city lights in the distance. It’s hard to tell how long we’ve been driving. Every quiet minute with Harrison feels like an eternity, and I don’t know if it’s been ten minutes or ten hours. But it doesn’t matter. The longer we’re in the car, the longer I can put off whatever is about to happen when we get to the compound he mentioned. I’ve almost started to nod off when the limo stops. Harrison opens the back door, a fresh drink in his hand as he unfolds his tall, muscular frame and exits the vehicle. “Get out. Now.” I don’t hesitate. I inch from my corner, terrified to leave the limo and be…wherever we are. “I said out.” His voice is gruffer. “Now.” I almost fall back into the limo when I see I’m standing in front of a literal castle. With towers and everything. I can’t hold back my gasp. It’s beautiful. But what does that matter? I’ll probably have to sleep in the basement with the rats. Harrison begins walking toward the massive wooden double doors. One of them opens as he gets close, and he turns his head slightly to look back at me. “It’s time to get ready for Master. And he’s very…particular.”
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