Chapter 3

Vena

I was dreaming.

I knew it was a dream because I could feel that strange softness in the air, like everything was wrapped in cotton. But it did not feel like a dream, not really. It felt like a memory. One I had gone over so many times that my mind could replay it perfectly.

I was standing barefoot in my small room in House Rose, my forehead almost pressed to the window.

Outside, night had fallen soft over our little human territory. I could see the Trylnx River from here, wide and dark and slow, cutting through the land. On the other side, far beyond the shimmer of the barrier, were the witches' lands. 

Everyone said the witches had the biggest territory, lands so green and fertile. Forests and fields that stretched for miles with rich soil. That was why the vampires and werewolves wanted it so badly. They had been hunting witches for centuries, trying to wipe them out and claim their land.

This could have been accomplished in a few years with the werewolf strength and numbers and the vampire's intelligence and longer life span. The problem was, they hated each other almost as much as they hated the witches. Vampires and wolves were too proud, too greedy, to work together. So the war dragged on, three sides circling each other, bleeding each other dry.

Humans like us sat in the middle.

We had the smallest slice of land, squeezed in between witches, wolves and vampire territories. We had only five small communities, each one called a House. House Rose was one of the smallest. Each House had a brothel attached, a place where anyone could come for pleasure. Wolves, vampires, even witches sometimes when they dared. Human territory was neutral ground. No fighting. No war. No one picking sides.

It also meant we had no allies.

The only ones who cared even a little were the witches, and that was mostly because of the spell. They had helped us raise the barrier that wrapped around our lands. A shimmering wall of color that looked almost beautiful if you did not know what it did. It kept us safe. It also kept us trapped.

No human could pass through it without turning to dust. Not until they turned twenty five.

On the night of our twenty fifth birthday the barrier would release its hold on us, just enough for us to step through it and survive. That was our grand reward. Our land would let us go. Why? So we could be sold to masters. Wolves. Vampires and sometimes witches.

That was the way of things. That was our purpose if we wanted to live amongst the stronger species.

I pressed my fingertips against the window glass, staring at the way the barrier shimmered around the edges of our territory. 

I did not want that to be my future. I did not want to walk through that barrier at twenty five and straight into another cage.

I wanted to be free.

"Vena!"

The familiar voice snapped me out of it.

I jumped a little and turned around as my door swung open.

Freya stood in the doorway, hands on her hips. Face heavy with make up. She wore one of Madam Elara's thin white gowns, the fabric hanging off her shoulders in a way that made her look younger than twenty four. Her hazel eyes narrowed at me.

"You were supposed to be out ten minutes ago." She stepped inside and shut the door with her foot. "Madam Elara has been looking for you. Do not tell me you were daydreaming again."

I laughed under my breath and moved away from the window. "I was not. I was just looking at the barrier."

Freya rolled her eyes and walked over to stand beside me. "The barrier again," she said. "What a surprise."

I turned back toward the window anyway, pointing at the shimmering outline in the distance. "Are you sure we cannot just try to pass through it?" I asked. "Maybe if we go fast enough..."

Freya reached up and grabbed my ear between her fingers.

I yelped. "Ow! Freya!"

"If you want to turn to dust, then go ahead," she said calmly, giving my ear a small twist for emphasis. "Until you turn twenty five, you step through that barrier, you die. Simple as that."

She let go and smoothed my hair where she had tugged it. "Now come on. Good, your hair is dry. The dye should last another three weeks."

Her fingers slid through the strands, checking the color. I glanced at my reflection in the window, at the pale white hair that framed my face. It still felt wrong to see it that way. I only saw my real hair color about once a month.

Freya and I had started dying our hair when we were young. Madam Elara said being unique was dangerous. That wolves and vampires liked unusual things a little too much. That we needed to blend in with the other girls.

So we covered the red in layers of chalky white, again and again.

"Do you think our red hair is a bad omen?" I asked quietly.

Freya looked at me, her expression softening. Her caramel skin glowed warm in the dim light of my room. She had always looked so calm, so sure in ways I never was.

"No," she said after a moment. A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "I think we are supposed to be more powerful."

She said it like a joke, but something in her eyes made my heart squeeze.

"Powerful," I repeated, making a face. "We cannot even leave the yard without permission."

Freya laughed, the sound light and familiar. She took my hand and gave it a little squeeze. "Come on," she said. "We have new guests. Madam Elara will have my head if we are late."

I groaned. "I hate new guests."

"I know you do. That is why I am here." She tugged on my hand, pulling me away from the window. "Be nice. Do not talk too much. Smile when you need to."

"I do not talk too much," I muttered, letting her drag me toward the door.

I did talk too much. Everyone said so. I had opinions, and most of them slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them. Freya had always been the calm one, the careful one, the one who knew how to bend without breaking. I was the one who pushed, who poked, who wanted to see how far I could go before something snapped.

Freya paused in front of the small mirror beside the door and adjusted the strap of my dress. "Stand up straight," she said. "Smile, but not too wide. Men like good girls."

"Why should I care about what men like? I like eating and sleeping," I said.

She snorted. "Well, you can do both of those after you survive tonight."

Her hand brushed my hair one more time, making sure no red peeked through the white. I caught her looking at my reflection, her expression going distant for a second.

"You will be twenty five someday too," she said quietly. "Maybe things will be different for you."

"How?" I asked. "You will be twenty five in a few months and you haven't found a new master to buy you."

Her smile turned a little sad. "That is why I need to be in Madam Elara's good books," she said. "So I am sold to a good master. Or at least one who will not kill me the first week."

My chest tightened. I hated the way she said it. Like it was normal, like it was just another thing to accept. I hated the way all the girls talked about it. As if being sold was as natural as turning twenty five.

"You are lucky you are still eighteen," she said, trying to sound light again. "You still have time. But you still need to behave. Do not make Madam angry."

"She is always angry," I said.

"Yes," Freya said, laughing. "So try not to make it worse."

She opened the door and pulled me out into the hallway. The familiar smell of perfume, tobacco, and sweat drifted up from downstairs. Music floated from the parlor, soft and low. Voices rose and fell, some laughing, some already drunk.

My stomach flipped.

We walked down the narrow stairs together. Freya squeezed my hand once more before letting go.

"Remember," she said under her breath as we reached the bottom. "Be nice. Do not talk. Let them like you."

I pressed my lips together and nodded.

The parlor doors were open, light and noise spilling into the hallway. I could see shapes inside, men in fine clothes, cloaks thrown over chairs, boots on tables. The smell of wolves and something sharp and metallic pricked at my nose.

New guests.

I had no idea that among them was a man whose face I would never forget.

A soft touch brushed my forehead, snapping me from the dream.

For a moment I stayed still, my mind stuck somewhere between sleep and waking. The touch came again, gentle fingers against my temple, and I jerked my eyes open.

An older woman stood over me.

Warm brown eyes. Curly dark hair streaked with silver. Soft features, sturdy build. She smelled faintly of lavender, something warm and comforting in a place that felt anything but.

I blinked hard and pushed myself upright. The chains were gone. I yanked my wrists to my chest, cradling them. They were red and raw where the metal had rubbed my skin. I shot the woman a sharp glare.

She smiled softly, like I had not just looked at her as though she were another threat.

"Hello, dear. I am Miriam."

I narrowed my eyes. My voice came out low and rough. "What do you want?"

She did not flinch. Instead, she crouched down beside me with a slow, steady movement, as if she were approaching a frightened animal.

"I am here to take you back to the castle," she said. "Come on now. Let us get you washed up and have those wounds treated."

"Absolutely not." I pulled away from her hand even though she had not tried to touch me again. "I am not going anywhere."

Miriam’s lips twitched like she was holding back a smile. "You are the Alpha’s human breeder, are you not?"

My jaw dropped open in disgust. Then I scoffed so loudly it echoed off the stone walls.

"I am no one’s breeder," I spat. "I am here against my will. Your Alpha did not purchase me the right way, so I am not serving him. He can go fuck himself and bear his own son."

Miriam let out a small chuckle.

"You sure do have a mouth on you," she said.

I glared harder, but my stomach chose that moment to let out a long, embarrassing growl. I pressed a hand to it, cheeks warming in irritation.

Miriam raised an eyebrow. "Well. Sounds like someone is hungry."

I hated that she said it in such a motherly tone. I hated that she was right even more.

She stood and brushed off her skirt. "Come on then. I will draw you a warm bath once we get to the castle and make sure you have a proper meal."

"I said I am not going anywhere," I muttered.

She tilted her head, still smiling. "Really? Would you prefer to stay down here in the cold dungeon? No food. No blankets. No light. No bath."

I stared at the damp stone walls. At the dried blood that was probably mine.

She took a small step back, giving me space. "You should at least make use of this little freedom the Alpha has allowed. He is not here right now, so this is your chance to get warm and fed."

Freedom. What a ridiculous word. 

But she was right. I needed food. I needed strength. I needed to survive long enough to find a way out of this place.

I let out a hard sigh. "Fine," I grumbled.

Miriam nodded as she motioned toward the door with a gentle sweep of her hand.

"Come along then, dear."

I stood carefully, my legs unsteady beneath me. Miriam did not touch me, did not rush me, just waited with patient eyes. It irritated me almost as much as it comforted me.

I looked toward the stairs leading upward, and out of the building.

Fine. I will play along. I will eat. I will regain my strength.

And then I will find a way out of this hell before the monster returns.