Bloodbound to the Devil Princes

The Auction of the Damned --- The Dark Room was never silent. Even in its stillest moments, it breathed. A slow, suffocating inhale of fear… An exhale of despair. Chains clinked softly in the distance, blending with muffled cries and the low hum of elite voices above. The air itself felt thick—heavy with magic, blood, and something far worse. Anticipation. Shayla sat curled in the corner of her cage, her knees drawn tightly to her chest, her fingers trembling slightly as they wrapped around the cold iron bars. Tonight. Her sale night. Her fingers tightened. She had watched this happen to others. Countless times. Girls dragged out screaming. Boys begging for mercy. Some fainting before they even reached the stage. Some… never returning. And now— It was her turn. A guard’s heavy boots echoed down the corridor. Clack… Clack… Clack… Shayla’s breath hitched. The sound alone was enough to send panic crawling under her skin. “Lot 731,” the guard barked. Her number. Not her name. Never her name. Shayla slowly lifted her head, her dull eyes meeting the rusted lock on her cage. For a moment—just one—she wished it wouldn’t open. That the world would end before it did. But wishes were useless in Luminaria. The lock snapped open with a sharp click. “Move.” Her legs refused at first. Then pain came—a harsh jolt of magic from the guard’s staff striking the bars, sending a violent current through her body. Shayla gasped, collapsing forward before forcing herself up. Weak. Always weak. That was what they called her. Half-human. Half-Luminarian. Fully worthless. She stepped out of the cage. Cold chains were immediately clasped around her wrists, the metal biting into her skin as they dragged her forward. Her bare feet scraped against the stone floor, every step echoing louder in her ears. The closer they got… the louder it became. Voices. Laughter. Bidding. Cruel excitement. The curtain ahead parted— And the Dark Room revealed itself. --- It was massive. A grand circular hall, glowing with sinister luxury. Chandeliers of black crystal hung from the ceiling, their dim light reflecting off gold-trimmed walls. Rows of elite beings sat in elevated tiers, their eyes sharp, hungry… Watching. Waiting. Judging. At the center stood the auction platform—a raised stage stained faintly with what Shayla knew was dried blood. Her stomach twisted. “Bring her forward!” The auctioneer’s voice rang out, smooth and theatrical. Shayla was shoved onto the platform. She stumbled, barely catching herself before falling completely. A few laughs echoed from the crowd. “Pathetic.” “Too thin.” “Look at her… barely worth anything.” Each word struck harder than the chains around her wrists. The auctioneer circled her slowly, his sharp gaze scanning every inch of her like she wasn’t even a person. “Lot 731,” he announced. “Female. Nineteen. Hybrid.” A ripple moved through the crowd. Interest. Disgust. Curiosity. “Born of forbidden blood. No recorded abilities…” He paused, tilting his head slightly. “But… an unusual aura signature.” That caught attention. Shayla felt it instantly. The shift. Eyes narrowing. Bodies leaning forward. Predators sensing something… different. “Starting bid—one hundred million.” Silence. Then— “Two hundred.” A voice from the left. “Three hundred.” Another, sharper. “Five hundred.” The numbers climbed quickly now. Shayla’s heart pounded violently against her chest as the voices blurred together. She couldn’t focus. Couldn’t breathe. Until— A voice cut through them all. “Two billion.” The entire room went still. Shayla’s head snapped up. And for the first time— She saw them. --- The Millions. Seated like gods among monsters. Jude leaned lazily in his chair, his lips curved in a bored smirk, his fingers tapping lightly against the armrest. Beside him— Sadie and Soren. The twins. Their presence alone felt suffocating. Dark. Violent. Beautiful in a way that made your skin crawl. Sadie’s lips curled slowly as her eyes locked onto Shayla. Soren said nothing. But his gaze? Cold enough to freeze blood. “Two billion,” Sadie repeated calmly, tilting her head. “Or is no one else playing?” A few uneasy murmurs followed. Then— “Three billion.” Another voice. Opposite side. The Spectres. Shayla turned slightly, her chains clinking. Winona Spectre sat upright, her expression sharp and unyielding. Beside her, Blaise looked amused, while Faye watched with quiet interest. “Four billion,” Soren said flatly. “Five,” Winona replied instantly. The tension snapped. Back and forth. Higher. Higher. Like her life was nothing more than numbers on a scale. Shayla’s chest tightened. This wasn’t normal. Hybrids didn’t go for this much. Something was wrong. Something was— “Seven billion.” The final bid echoed. Silence fell like a blade. Winona didn’t speak again. The auctioneer’s grin widened. “Sold! To the Spectres Family!” A sharp strike of the gavel sealed it. And just like that— Shayla belonged to them. --- Relief didn’t come. Because in Luminaria… There was no such thing. The guards moved instantly, unlocking her chains from the platform. She was dragged forward again, toward the Spectres’ side. Her fate decided. Her life… no longer hers. But just as she was about to cross the line— A voice echoed. Cold. Deadly. Unforgiving. “Stop.” The entire room froze. Even the guards. Even the auctioneer. Shayla’s breath caught in her throat. Because she felt it before she saw him. Power. Not loud. Not explosive. But absolute. The kind that didn’t need to prove itself. The kind that ended things. Slowly— She turned. And there he stood. At the entrance of the Dark Room. Dressed in black. Shadow wrapped around him like it belonged there. His presence alone bent the air. Silenced the crowd. Terrified the powerful. The bastard prince. The one even devils whispered about. And his eyes— Were locked on her. --- “That one…” he said quietly. A pause. Then— “She’s mine.”