Claimed by the blood king

The air was thick with the smell of fear. Charlotte Velkarus stood with her back to the cold, damp wall of the holding cell. The rest of the girls were huddled around her, some of them wreathed in silent sobs, the others too stunned to do more than stare glassily forward with vacant, haunted eyes. Her wrists ached from the tight iron bracelets, and the chain around her neck chafed her skin every time she moved. She could barely feel her feet anymore from having stood so long on the chilly stone floor. But she would not weep. She'd wept enough the night they came for her. Two weeks ago, she'd been walking home from her late shift at the bookstore, bundled up in her favorite red coat, when everything changed.One minute, she was texting her roommate, and the next, a hand clamped over her mouth. She remembered the smell of cloves and cold smoke, a voice whispering in some language she didn't know and then darkness.When she woke up, she wasn't in her city anymore. No longer in her world. She was in theirs. It did not take long to learn where she was. Whispers between the other girls, the guards, and the sadistic laughter of the auctioneer made clear. She was in a supernatural trafficking ring. one of the largest hidden beneath the mortal world. Here, humans were currency. Breeding stock. Blood sources. Pets. And she was next on the block. You. Next," a voice barked, rough and impatient. A guard crashed into the room, yellow eyes shining. Wolf. His scent burned her nostrils wet fur, copper,and something foul. He yanked on Charlotte's chain, dragging her in the direction of the door. "Move, human. Or I'll make you." Charlotte walked forward, head held high despite the terror tearing at her insides. Her white slip clung to her, damp with sweat. She felt the gaze of the other girls on her, most too frightened to meet her eye. She didn't blame them. The curtain drew aside, and stage lights blinded her for a moment. She winced at the brightness as the noise of the auction room surged forward a low, ravenous snarl like a pack of wolves closing in on prey. Row after row of dark shapes filled the vast chambers, lounging in velvet chairs and gold couches, eyes glinting in the dim light. Vampires. Shifters. Demons. Creatures she never imagined existed. Until now. She'd entered their world, and in their world, she was nothing more than meat. "Lot Forty-seven," shouted the auctioneer, his voice echoing through the room. "Age nineteen. Human. Unmarked. Virgin. Spirited." A murmur of laughter ran through the crowd at the last descriptor. Charlotte gritted her teeth. Her hands trembled slightly at her sides, but she kept her chin up, gaze steady ahead. She would not have the pleasure of them seeing her break. Bidding began almost at once. "One hundred thousand!" "Two hundred!" "Three hundred and fifty!" The amounts increased rapidly. Faster than she had hoped. Her heart pounded in her chest as the auctioneer's voice struggled to keep up. "Five hundred thousand!" "Eight hundred!" "Nine-fifty!" Each bid shocked her Each amount a reminder that she was being sold like a product. She clenched her fist so hard that her nails dug into her skin. Then, suddenly, the room fell silent. It was as if a storm had blown through, and the wind was catching its breath. At the far side of the room, a man stood. Tall. Menacing. Dressed in black from head to toe. He stepped forward, and even other bidders shifted out of the way instinctively, parting like a silent curtain. When he spoke, his voice was velvet and steel. "One million." The crowd gasped in surprise. The auctioneer hesitated, lips parting. "Sold?. to lord Kael Draven." Charlotte's breath caught in her throat. The name was familiar. Too familiar. She'd heard it whispered in hushed tones by the guards. A name spoken in fear, in awe, in respect. A vampire lord. An ancient. A monster king. The Blood King. Kael Draven stepped into the light. Charlotte's eyes snapped to his face, but it was still half in shadow beneath the hood of his black cloak. All she could see were his eyes Silver, glowing faintly like moonlight on still water. They were cold. Nothing else. but power. He didn't speak when he approached, " Didn't smile or leer like some others had.". He simply stared at her, as if into her soul. She stood her ground. "Remove her bound," Kael ordered, voice low but commanding. The wolf sifter stepped back before surging forward and unlocking her wrists. The metal fell away, and Charlotte spread her fingers, blood rushing back into her hands with a sting. The collar, however, stayed. "She's yours, my lord," the auctioneer said with a bow. Kael nodded once, then turned to her again. "You belong to me now," he said, and his voice wrapped itself around her like a silk ribbon. Charlotte didn't say anything What was she supposed to say? Thank you? She allowed herself to be led, the chain at her neck tugging softly as he turned. She walked behind him, her bare feet making muted padding noises against the marble floor. Every eye in the room followed her as the doors to the room slid open and swallowed them both into darkness. The hallway outside the auction room was chillier, the air sharper. She could smell rain in the distance, and something ancient stone, fire, and ash. Kael did not speak as they walked through winding stone halls lit by torches. Her legs ached, but she did not dare fall behind. Finally, he halted before a massive obsidian door adorned with old runes. With a wave of his hand, the runes faintly glowed and the door soundlessly opened. Within, it was not at all what she had expected as a dungeon. The room was gothic and ornate, vaulted Ceiling, velvet curtains, and a fire roaring in a stone fireplace. A bed carved from dark wood dominated the space, piled high with furs and silk. This was no dungeon cell. It was a lair Kael turned to her, finally lowering his hood. Her breath caught. He was handsome in a deadly kind of way chiseled cheekbones, a sharp jaw, and full lips that didn't seem to smile often. His skin was pale, nearly translucent, and those silver eyes sliced into her like knives. "You will sleep here," he said simply. Charlotte blinked. "With you?" His lips moved at the corner. Not really a smile. "No. Not tonight. You're not ready." She didn't know whether to feel relieved or insulted. "I don't sleek with frightened pets," he said coldly. "Fear ruins the flavor." Her stomach tightened. So that was it. He bought her because of her blood. Still, she lifted her chin. "I'm not your pet." He stepped closer, close enough that she could feel the chill coming off him. He didn't touch her, but his proximity alone sent shivers down her spine. "No," he breathed. "Not yet. But you will be." And with that, he pivoted and disappeared through a side door, leaving her alone in a gilded cage. Charlotte sank slowly down onto the edge of the bed, her hands trembling now that she was alone. She stared into the fire, trying to breathe in the heat. Her nightmare had started. But something else had, too something darker, more dangerous. Because despite the fact that she did not want to admit it. A part of her was curious. About him. About what transpired afterward