“Step up here,” the masked vampire barked at Teru in the dark room. His legs trembled. He almost lost consciousness and tripped on the stairs, making the jewels on his body jingle.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” his guide asked, agitated by Teru’s clumsiness.

Teru put together a string of random words and touched his head.

The masked vamp saw the large bump and blood. “How? You didn’t have this when I gave you to the serva—”

He stopped talking to think. “Ugh, the betas. It looks like they tried to cover up their mistake with makeup. Damn it. Fucking useless humans. Oi!” he hissed to the guard so the buyers couldn’t hear. “Get the three servants that prepared this human. Send them to the blood slave auction to be sold. They damaged the merchandise.”

The guard left to do as he was told, a sinister smile on his face.

The lights abruptly switched on, focusing on Teru. The brightness made him squint, causing him to want to throw up again. Once his sight was sort of used to it, he glanced around. It was more private than expected, unlike the beta auction stage he had seen before. It was a black room with an elevated circle stage in the center.

And he was standing on it.

Ten tinted windows, two on each wall of the pentagon-shaped room, revealed vampires sitting on lavish chairs while holding tall cups filled with red liquid. They each wore a sparkling mask in the shape of an animal’s head.

“Our last item for tonight was found in western Kentucky. He’s approximately 20 to 23 years old, has a rare blood type of AB positive, and is believed to be of Japanese descent…”

While the speaker talked about him, some of the vampires stood and pressed against the glass to get a closer look. They had already figured out what he was.

“This human is a male omega.”

Now that his gender had been officially revealed, there was chaos in each suite. Numbers being thrown around. It was madness. Their yelling made him wince, like shrieking in his ears.

“Please follow protocol and press the button to make a bid. Before we accept offers, let’s present the goods.”

The escort vampire bent him forward until his body made a ninety-degree angle. The vampire’s hand pressed down on the small of Teru’s back until his spine made a sensual curve. This forced his ass to be pushed out further to expose his private areas to the guests.

It was freaking degrading—that’s what Teru would’ve thought if his head wasn’t so hazy. He just wanted to sleep.

“This omega is a virgin. Given his age and sexual status, he has not experienced his first heat.”

The vampire made him stand up straight, turning him in a circle. His light-headedness almost made him fall. The bloodsucker gripped his nape tightly for support. Ouch. There would probably be bruises there later.

“The starting bid is one hundred thousand,” the woman said. “Do I hear one hundred thousand?”

Every room was equipped with a button. The vampires pressed on it relentlessly, trying to up one another. In moments, the amount flew to $1.5 million. If that was a lot of money, Teru didn’t know. Humans who survived in the wild didn’t use currency. They were hunters and gatherers.

“$2 million.”

CLICK, CLICK. More button clicks. CLICK, CLICK.

“$7 million.”

“$12 million.”

It eventually slowed down. The last bid was $50 million by an older, stout vampire. His stomach protruded and drooped over his hips. A few wisps of stringy hair were slicked back on his head. Sweat pooled down his greasy skin from excitement, breathing hard as if he just ran for a long time.

“Do I hear $50 million?” There was no response from the other rooms. “$50 million? Last call for $50 million.”

The vampire clapped with glee, knowing he was going to win. He eyed Teru with an unpleasant, perverted expression.

“$100 million,” said a well-built figure behind the previously-winning bidder. He had longish, dark red hair that hugged his neck.

The one who was winning gasped in horror at the intruder in his room. “How did you get in? You can’t do that! You didn’t click the button! You’re probably not even a VIP! Who the fuck do you think you are? Guards! Guards!”

The newcomer took off his plain mask. Teru couldn’t see his face clearly because of the tinted window. But the window couldn’t prevent the heavy wave of authoritative pheromones he emitted, penetrating the room. It was stronger than Nolan’s, or any alpha he knew.

A dominant alpha.

Smells nice… Teru thought as he wobbled, wanting that alpha to choose him.

“Choose me?” Why did… I think… that…

The shorter vampire faltered and looked down submissively. “I-I’m so sorry. He’s yours. Please have mercy on me.”

“Do I hear $100 million? $100 million? Last call for $100 million.”

The man spoke loudly for all to hear, voice booming. “Anyone else dare to bid?”

There was silence from the other rooms. No, no one dared to bid.

“Sold. $100 million.”

***

Kieran

“Why did you bring me to Nashville?”

Kieran looked out through the limousine’s window. The auction building loomed above them with tacky flashing lights. The humans used to call it the AT&T Building. This type of industry was below him. The thought of wasting his money at such a place was revolting.

“Oh, come on, you used to bid on humans back in the day,” said his youngest brother, Blaise.

Kieran scoffed. He hated it when the past was brought up. “That was one time. Wasn’t it for charity, as well?”

It was their turn to get out of the car. Blaise sighed. “Gosh, you’re so moody. It’s been, what, 300ish years since your incident with Van Helsing? I’m just trying to cheer you up. Don’t you need blood by now? Go buy a blood slave for your lonely penthouse. You haven’t properly drank anything sinc—”

“Because,” Kieran snapped. “You know I can’t drink blood. Besides, I don’t need you to help me.”

Blaise was annoyingly intuitive. “You gotta let it go, brother. Though you act strong on the outside, I can see otherwise. Relax. Take a chill pill.”

Kieran was lucky it was Blaise who noticed how weak he truly was, and not another one of his siblings. They would’ve picked him off years ago if they knew how much he had fallen after what Van Helsing, the most famous vampire hunter in history, had done to him all those years ago.

He refused to take off his perfect outer mask—not for Blaise, not for anyone. “You should mind your own business,” he said.

“If you say so,” Blaise shrugged, not caring. “Who knows, maybe you’ll find something tonight. I have a good feeling. Here.” He paused, ruffled through his hot pink purse, and handed him a masquerade mask. It was simple and not too showy.

“Wear this. This auction house requires them tonight because of the theme.”

“Ugh,” Kieran scoffed. He pushed his burgundy hair away from his eyes to put on the damned thing. At least it mostly concealed his crimson eyes, a symptom of blood deprivation.

When the chauffeur opened their car door, they went inside with the other vampires. It was a mixture of low, middle, and high-ranked individuals. Kieran was actually glad for the mask; if the guests knew who they were, they’d flock to them, trying to get on their good side. Everyone wanted to be acquaintances with the princes and princesses of Avania.

And if they got the notion that they were acquaintances, those fools would get cocky, later asking for money or favors. There were countless times when a quick conversation led to a misunderstanding that they were suddenly friends. Such inconveniences were exactly why Kieran stopped attending most parties and events unless they required his presence.

A long time ago, he would’ve been the first one there to enjoy life’s temptations, but not anymore. Things had changed. He had changed, and not for the better.

Some vampires drank from their recently purchased blood slaves in the lobby, their fangs sunk deeply into the sweet spot of their throats. The humans were drunk from ecstasy, limp like they had been given drugs.

Kieran felt indifferent to humans and the blood slave system in general, but to perform such an intimate act in public was undignified. The coppery aroma reached his nostrils. His stomach flipped with nausea. The scent of blood alone caused a negative effect like this. Drinking it was worse. During the rare times he fed on the volunteer donors to stay sane, he spent hours heaving over a toilet.

That was why he had stopped being the prideful asshole he used to be… mostly. He was still full of himself, but it wasn’t as bad. Thanks to Van Helsing, Kieran couldn’t take blood without being sick, causing him to be incredibly weak. This disability was the reason why their stepfather dethroned him as the next-in-line to be king, giving it to the second-oldest brother. At the time, it had damaged his ego: a massive hit.

Kieran was Pride, after all, the worst of the Seven Deadly Sins.