The Fae King's Prize (Between Dawn and Dusk #3) - Jamie Schlosser Page 0,4

make out a dark blob against the expanse of green. There’s movement, like people are milling about.

Oh, thank God.

They’ll see us, and someone will call the police.

Noise from the gathering grows louder as we get closer. I keep waiting for someone to shout at these men. To tell them to let us go.

Then I see the shape of something large, rectangular, and about six feet high looming in front of us. A stage? When we come to a stop right next to it, my hope withers.

There are no calls for help. In fact, it’s the opposite. Instead of sounding alarmed, the people all chatter in excited tones.

A sinking feeling weighs in my gut. My heartrate picks up.

“All right, ladies,” our leader greets us jovially, as if we’re here of our own free will. “Up the stairs. Careful now. If you bust your face, we’re going to have issues. Speaking of that, Tarik, you’re going to pay for the merchandise you damaged.”

“It was a tap,” he defends.

“If her face is bleeding or bruised, you’ll pay. Those are the rules.”

They grumble at each other a little more, but I don’t hear the words because my thoughts are stuck on one word in particular.

Merchandise.

Motherfucking shit bags, I was right. We are so fucked. I rarely cuss—I usually keep it pretty PG, even in my mind. Early on, I adopted my dad’s habit of using silly exclamations instead of swear words. But dagnabbit and geeminy criminy aren’t going to cut it under the current circumstances.

So, so fucked.

Fear kicks into overdrive, and I start envisioning ways to get out of this: Bide my time. Lull my captor into a false sense of security by being docile and compliant. Allow my body to be abused but always keep my mind protected.

I might be traumatized if I get away but surviving with some damage is better than living in a literal hell.

Maybe I was wrong about myself. You never know how you’re going to react to a life-threatening situation until you’re in it, and maybe I do have it in me to fight. Because I can’t be someone’s sex toy for the rest of my life.

There’s collective trembling from all of us as the first girl in line moves up. I feel it vibrating through the rope. When I get to the stairs, my eyes start to sting as I place my foot on the first step. I don’t think I can hold back the tears much longer.

I’m almost to the top of the platform when the toe of my tennis shoe catches on a ledge. I fall, and pain explodes along my right shin.

Damn my uneven feet. About sixty percent of people have different sized feet, though for most it’s usually not extreme enough to be noticeable. My right foot is a full size smaller than my left, and it causes me to be clumsy.

Murmurs and gasps come from the onlookers, and for a second, I think about staying down. I could pretend to pass out. No one would have much use for an unconscious girl. Or, on second thought, would they?

I really might throw up.

Someone starts tugging me up from the elbow, and the touch is gentle.

“Come on,” Sasha encourages. “Look strong. It’s better that way.”

Her kindness gives me the encouragement I need to stand. My leg throbs, but I try not to limp as we all move along until a man tells us to stop.

“Thank you,” I whisper to my right.

“You’re welcome.” Her quiet response is almost lost in the rumble of the crowd, but she sways closer. “I need you to listen to me. We’re at an auction. It’s important that you make yourself seem as appealing as possible. Show that you’re smart, but not too smart. If you have a talent or special skills, make it known.”

A shuddering breath leaves me. “Why? What does it matter?”

“Best case scenario is for someone to choose you as a companion. At least you’ll have a chance at being treated well. Make eye contact with the single men. Do not look at the married couples. It may seem disarming when a woman is with them, but it’s not a situation you want. They’re looking for someone to breed.”

“Breed?” I’m woozy, my head spinning. “Like The Handmaid’s Tale?”

“The what?” Sasha sounds confused, but I’m too busy blinking away the dizziness to explain.

Before I can pass out, the sack is pulled off my head.

I blink against the harsh sudden brightness.

My eyesight isn’t terrible without my glasses, but I