Chapter 4

“Another man wanted to purchase me,” I said, grimacing at the force Mr. Cliff held on my arm. He walked so fast my legs could hardly keep up with him. “He had a woman bring me this gown to change into, and she healed my wounds! I was told to wait outside for him.”

Mr. Cliff barked out a laugh. “Even if that were true, not a single man you met would outrank this noble. Regardless of whether someone else wanted to purchase you, this noble will retain the rights due to his rank.”

“But—”

Mr. Cliff spun to face me, a hint of redness peeking through his porcelain skin. “Listen here, you little shit.” He jabbed a finger in my face. “You will not embarrass me in here. I don’t care who offered to buy you. This noble is the general of the army, and the generous amount he offered is respectable, considering your dismal state. I would punish you myself for your outburst, but I’ll wait for your new owner to have his way with you.”

I tripped over my feet when he began to drag me towards the castle again. “W-What do you mean?”

Mr. Cliff tossed his head back and laughed. “Your new owner is fond of pets in the literal sense. He thrives off of scars and wounds, preferring his pets to be imperfect.” He paused before adding, “He’s requested that your limbs be amputated for you to resemble an actual pet, one who will crawl on the floor to him at his every beck and call.”

My body recoiled on instinct, my heels digging into the ground even as Mr. Cliff attempted to pull me closer to my imminent doom. The horror of it all, the pure villainy, had bile rising into my throat.

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” he growled. His grip tightened on my wrist, wrenching me forward until it nearly pulled the joint out of its socket. “It’s about time someone punished you accordingly. I have to admit, I wish I had thought of amputation myself. It might have shut you up a long time ago.”

“Please!” I screamed, falling to my knees in the grass. I knew I was committing treason by disobeying a noble. I knew that I’d likely be beheaded in a matter of seconds, but dying was a far better fate than what awaited me in that castle. My body was frozen with terror, growing rigid at Mr. Cliff’s attempts to drag me inside.

“I can, and I will.” Malice reflected in his cold, beady eyes as he sank to the ground to become level with me. “This is what you were bred for. Nothing about you is pleasurable, Aria. You were designed for torture, crafted to be amongst the laughing stock of half-breeds. This should not come as a shock that you are finally getting what you deserve.”

“Please, don’t.” Sobs became lodged in my throat as my vision blurred. My ears rang, drowning out the sounds around me until guards were suddenly at my sides, dragging me against my will through the castle doors.

I sobbed as I was thrown into a room full of hungry vampires. Nearly all of them wrinkled their noses in disgust at the sight of me, but I wasn’t expecting a better reaction.

My tears continued to fall when I was shoved to the ground before my new owner’s feet.

I was weak, with no energy or courage to fight back when a guard’s knee slammed into my spine to shove me to the ground.

I thought about my mother and how happy my childhood was before she died at the hands of a Wendigo. I pictured her holding me in her arms, in the rocking chair by the fireplace, as she told me fairytales until I fell asleep when the man with cracked teeth and a gaunt face kicked me in the face for spitting at him.

At least I would be runited with her.

In his meaty hand, my new owner held a blade that spanned the length of my arm. He wore a maniacal grin, crouching to tilt my face up to his. Blood dripped down my chin onto the marble floors, but the scent of my blood wouldn’t entice the vampires surrounding the banquet room when my appearance was so horrid.

I was a tainted specimen.

“Oh, you’ll be a fun one to tame,” the man said eagerly.

The room exploded into laughter, all on the edge of their seats to witness the torture he was about to execute. This was only a spectacle for them. I was designed for amusement, my terror a source of entertainment as they sipped their glasses of blood wine and chatted about the weather.

I shut my eyes tight when he raised the blade, my muscles lax against the hands pinning me down, willingly submitting to my fate, until they suddenly released their pressure with a bone-chilling crack.

The moment of reprieve allowed my saving grace to shove me out of the way just as the blade came crashing down and clattered against the marble. Silence fell over the room, a dark shadow entering my peripheral vision when I rose to support myself on my hands and knees.

It was only then that I realized the guards who had held me down were all dead, their bodies in a crumpled heap in the center of the floor. Their heads were twisted in a different direction, but their lifeless gazes didn’t revolt me in the way I thought they would. Those men tried to hurt me.

They deserved it.

I glanced up to find the man who had rescued me in the trailer. The one who had brought me into that room and inspected me. The one who had claimed me as their pet before Mr. Cliff dragged me away.

Except this time…

He was hardly recognizable with the blue veins stark beneath his porcelain skin, as if his teeth were clenched together so hard he was seconds from imploding. His eyes, which were brown a few hours earlier, were completely bloodshot, the iris swallowing his pupils whole.

My mouth parted in shock at the way his chest heaved with fury, the way he seemed like he was protecting me when he stepped in front of me to block me from their view.

The only person who had ever protected me was my mother.

Sparing a glance around the man’s legs, I was surprised to find Mr. Cliff on his knee with a fist placed over his heart. His entire body trembled, averting his gaze when he said, “P-Prince Dorian,” he stammered. “It is an honor to make your acquaintance again.”

My heart stalled when the words left his mouth, the title circulating through my brain on a constant loop of disbelief.

Prince.

This man, the man who wanted to be my owner, was the prince?

It didn’t make any sense. Mr. Cliff had tried to present the prince with countless prospects from the orphanage, and none of them met his expectations. I was at the bottom of the barrel when it came to prospects. The prince should want nothing to do with me.

And yet, when Dorian scanned my face, seeming to note the bloody nose and the bruises along my arms from being pinned down, all I could sense was possessiveness in his eyes. If his body language was any indication, like he was holding his unleashed rage by a string, it was clear I hadn’t imagined it when he said he wanted to claim me as his pet.

Dorian took a step forward towards Mr. Cliff until he stared down his nose at him. Then, in a voice that would ward off even the strongest of soldiers, he asked, “Who gave you permission to touch her?”