Chapter 5 Greyson

W hat in the actual fuck is going on?

It was spontaneous, a complete spur-of-the-moment decision to come here tonight, and I think I may have lost my mind. Because I just walked onto a stage where rich people bid for me, and I must have sold rather quickly because I wasn't out there for very long, I don't think.

Everything about tonight has been strange . The security of this creepy but weirdly elegant hotel at the entrance would only allow me in if I knew the passcode, which, thankfully, I had overheard from the girls at that coffee shop.

When I got inside, they escorted me to some ginormous clock that had a secret staircase leading us down to the dark depths beneath the Barlowe.

We each filled out some fact cards about ourselves and even had to include our blood type, which I thought was rather odd, but I suppose that could be a safety measure if we got injured or something. Although it would be even weirder if they had a stash of blood somewhere for that reason.

Then, we had to fill out our information on a contract that I skimmed over. Basically, I would be the winner's servant for two weeks and in return get at least one hundred thousand dollars. It may have been reckless, but once I saw that number, I signed on the dotted line and called it a day.

After that, some hotel staff lined us up and told us to remain quiet while the auction commenced. And everyone was silent, dead silent. I wanted to ask a guy next to me if he had done this before, but I got one word out before he shushed me.

By the time I wanted to change my mind, run up those stairs, and never look back, I was being led onto the stage. I couldn't see their faces or hear the people behind the glass, but I could feel their stares like a thousand fingers ghosting across my skin.

After only a minute or so, the exit door opened again, and I walked through, passing the man I had handed my card to. He was ecstatic, the most joyous look upon his face, and I wondered why. But not enough to stay and ask.

What have I gotten myself into? Is this safe? Is it even legal?

I should have asked more questions, thought this through more. But that's always my issue. Sometimes thinking things through just means giving yourself enough time to talk yourself out of it, even if it's the wrong decision.

Besides, it's too late now.

A group of other people that just auctioned themselves and I file into an elevator with one of the staff. Her name tag reads Lana.

The doors seem to close at a record-breakingly slow speed, the mirror reflection forcing me to look straight into my own eyes. It also forces me to see the rest of the elevator, including the girl Lana, who is staring at me so intently that an eerie shiver runs down my spine. And she isn't even attempting to hide it.

"I wonder why she chose you after all of this time," she murmurs, and the whispers of the others fall silent as they listen in.

"I'm sorry?" I ask, clearing my throat.

Lana smiles sweetly. "Ms. Barlowe hasn't participated in the Culling for decades. But then, all of a sudden, she bids on you. It's interesting…" Her hand reaches up, and she runs her pointed nail down my jaw and beneath my chin.

"Wait—are you talking about Ms. Barlowe ?" someone shrieks excitedly.

Lana simply nods.

A few others express their surprise before one of the guys quiets them down, grabs my shoulders, and spins me around to face the group. "Is this your first time? You seem nervous."

I nod, my heart pounding in my chest. "It is, yeah. You? I'm Greyson, by the way."

He sticks his hand out, and I take it. "My name's Ethan. No, I've been doing this for six years. This will be my seventh." He blows a raspberry. "Your first time and Ms. Barlowe comes out of the shadows for you. That's crazy, man."

My brows furrow. "You know her?"

"Personally? No. But everyone knows of her. She owns the Barlowe." He lifts his hand, gesturing to everything around us. "And as long as I've been doing this, she's never even placed a bid."

Lana agrees and looks at everyone with a glare that we should shut up. "He's right. But don't worry. I'm sure she'll take great care of you."

That's the last thing said during the ride up. We stop on each floor, and a few are called off the elevator to join the staff waiting for them. It's so incredibly organized I don't know whether to be impressed or terrified.

It's only me and Ethan left as the elevator climbs to the thirteenth floor.

"Want some advice?" Ethan leans over and whispers into my ear.

Nodding, I'm thankful for any tips on how to navigate the inevitable unknown. "Please."

"If your bite marks take longer than a minute to heal, which they shouldn't, but on the chance that they do, put some Aquaphor on it, and they'll be healed almost instantly."

Wait, what the fuck did he just say?

Bite marks?

Is that like a kink that everyone here has? I'm not too sure about letting some random woman bite me.

The elevator dings, the door opens, and Lana gestures to us to exit. We step into the hallway and are greeted by two guys, each one holding a sign with our name on it.

"Wait, hold up. Ethan," I call out as we are escorted in opposite directions.

He lifts his hand into the air, forming a thumbs-up, and shouts, "You'll do great! Bonus tip—drink pineapple juice. It makes it sweeter for them. See you on the other side, my friend."

What the fuck is going on? Makes what sweeter? And sweeter for who ?

"Greyson, right this way, please," my assigned staff member says, ushering me further down the hallway. "This is your room. Please wait inside, and your chosen will be with you shortly."

"My chosen ? What does that mean?" I ask, and he looks at me like I'm stupid.

"The individual who won you in the auction. She'll be here soon," he says, opening the hotel room door.

He holds my stare for a moment, and I'm starting to think all of this was a very, very bad idea.

"Do you need anything while you wait?" he asks, looking at me in the same way Lana was.

"Someone to tell me what happens next?"

He looks at me once again like I'm completely stupid and should already know the answers. And maybe I should.

Maybe you're not supposed to lie your way into this event. But I'm here now, and it's too late to back out, so maybe I should start faking it. Faking that I actually belong because I want that life-changing money those girls were talking about.

"Sorry, it's just the nerves," I say calmly, walking into the room and sitting down on the bed. "I don't need anything. Thank you."

"Of course. Have a good night." He swiftly closes the hotel room door behind him on his way out.

Taking in the room, I'm once again in awe. It's the nicest place I've ever been in.

This entire evening has been a whirlwind, and I have a feeling it's only the beginning. But I need to know more about what is to come and what the hell Jeremiah meant about bite marks and pineapple juice.

To be honest, if whoever this woman is gives me enough money, she can bite me all day long. Unless it's like a cannibal thing, in which case I'm out.

Lying back on the bed, I stretch my arms out and stare at the black ceiling fan spinning around. The image of Vivian coming in that dark bar flashes in my mind, and fuck, now I don't think it'll ever leave. She disappeared last night before I could get her number, and I might become a regular at that bar if it means a chance to run into her again.

Fuck. She's like sin and salvation tied together with a pretty black bow. And I need more of her, so much more.

If she looks that stunning coming from my fingers, I'm dying to see what she looks like coming with my dick buried inside of her.

KNOCK. KNOCK.

Flying up, I sit tall as my finally calmed breathing speeds back up. Is this her? The seemingly infamous Ms. Barlowe?

I wonder what she'll look like. Will she be kind and nice or a raging bitch? I wonder what chores she'll make me do while I spend the next two weeks with her.

My curious thoughts are pushed to the wayside when the doorknob twists, the door swings open, and my jaw falls to the floor.

Jumping to my feet, I rush over and take her soft hands in mine. "Vivian. What are you doing here? Are you participating in the auction too?"

She scoffs like she's waiting for the punchline. "I don't understand. What are you doing here?"

"It's kind of a long story. I'll tell you later. Are you allowed to be in my room? I don't want to get you into trouble." Her attire finally clicks into my brain, and my eyes wander over every inch of her body, and I have to stop myself from drooling. "Holy shit. You look incredible."

She smiles devilishly. "Kiss me."

"W-What?" I stutter, wondering why she doesn't seem to be as on edge about everything going on as I am.

Any humor disappears from her gaze as the look of her in front of me brings me an ounce of peace. "Kiss me, Greyson. Like you mean it."

I have so many questions. What is she doing here? How did she find out about this?—

Stop .

For the first time, I stop thinking it through. I just act.

Stepping forward, I slide my hand along her jaw and into her hair, tugging her toward me as I lean down and claim her lips with my own. Her hand falls to my waist, and she bunches the fabric in her fist, pulling us tighter together as my tongue sweeps the seam of her lip, dipping inside of her sweet mouth.

This is what should have been happening all night last night, but I don't care. The fact that she's here at all right now is an insane coincidence, and I don't want to question it. I want to enjoy every second I have with her.

Sliding my hand down her waist, I lightly dig my fingers into her side, and she moans into my mouth.

We move in sync, our mouths and bodies dancing to a rhythm that only we can make. It's like we were born to fit together. I never want this to end. But she gradually pulls away, rolling her forehead against mine as we both catch our breath.

"Should I show you how much I mean it again?" I whisper into her parted lips, and a shiver runs through her body as her smile lifts.

Stepping back, she playfully rests her hand against my chest. "Later. We need to talk first."

Rubbing the back of my neck, I glance at the closed door, scared that at any moment, the woman I'm waiting for will walk in here and catch us together.

"You should probably go. I don't want to get you into any trouble with Ms. Barlowe," I say cautiously. I don't care if they kick me out, but I don't want to mess up her chances of getting a ton of money.

She bursts out laughing as she walks over and sits down on the bed, patting the spot next to her. "I'm not worried about that. Trust me."

Sitting down beside her, I lean back on my hands. "Do you know her? Is that why you're here?"

She ignores my questions. "Greyson, were you invited tonight?"

"W-What do you mean?"

She sucks the bottom of her lip between her teeth. "Did you receive a personal invite to the Culling?"

I don't want to lie to her, although, for some reason, I feel like the truth could potentially harm the outcome of my situation. "No. I didn't."

Her eyes squint ever so slightly. "Then how did you get in?"

Scoffing nervously, I tell her the truth. "I overheard a few girls talking about an auction where you are basically just a servant to rich people for two weeks and you make a fuck ton of money. They dropped a paper with the address, and now I'm here in a room waiting for some lady to come in."

She glances down, fighting the smile tugging at her lips. "You thought you were going to be a maid for two weeks?"

I nod.

She smiles humorously. "You were prepared to wait on this person hand and foot?"

I nod again, a pit forming in the bottom of my stomach as my nerves begin to pick back up.

"Why?" She asks one word that seems to have a never-ending answer.

Holding her stare, I take a deep breath as I decide what to say. And I respond honestly, "Because I'm tired of barely getting by"

"Are those the only reasons?" She pushes me for more.

As if she pulls the words from my lips, I tell her the feelings I've kept hidden from even myself. "Because I don't even really feel like I'm alive. I've lived my life making the decisions that I thought I should rather than what I wanted. I want to feel like I matter. Like I exist. And this is the start of that."

"Good to know." She looks up through her lashes and asks, "So you don't know why you're really here?"

"What do you mean?" My words are a soft whisper.

Reaching out, she runs her thumb along my bottom lip. "You don't know what I am, do you?"

" What you are?" I repeat her words as a cold breeze skates across my back.

She slides across the bed, pressing her thigh against mine as she turns into my body, cupping my jaw with her hand. "It might be easier to show you rather than tell you."

My gaze bounces back and forth between her eyes, desperate to learn the information that lurks behind them.

Is she a serial killer? Is that the what she was referring to? Is she… I don't know. My mind is running rampant with ideas. But right now, melting beneath her touch, I don't care what she's about to say. I just want her to keep touching me.

"Then show me," I whisper, leaning down and closing some of the distance between our faces.

Slowly, she inches forward, quickly placing a delicate kiss on my lips. "Your world is about to change forever."

Sitting up, she brushes her hair back from her face and closes her eyes. The air seems to chill around us, goose bumps breaking out all over my body from the anticipation, and I sit forward, preparing for anything.

But nothing could have prepared me for this .

She opens her eyes, and my mouth instantly dries as I suck in a sharp breath. Long gone are the beautiful hazel depths of her eyes; instead, they are now a deep red. Not the color of a firetruck or an apple but the dark shade of blood.

And then she smiles, and I see them.

Fangs.

She runs her tongue along the sharp, stark white points protruding from her gums, positioned where an animal's canine teeth are. The very two reasons that I'm starting to believe in the stories of monsters and myths.

"Are you scared?" she asks, studying me intently.

I probably should be. I should want to run away and never turn back.

But I won't.

I'm done living life with fear at the forefront of everything I do. I knew something was weird about tonight, but I never would have guessed it would have to do with real-life vampires. I haven't felt more alive than I do right now.

"No," I answer honestly.

"Good," she replies, her shoulders relaxing. "I know you have a lot of questions. But let me explain a few things first, okay?"

Nodding, I agree. "Okay."

The thought of Ms. Barlowe lingers in the back of my mind, but I shoo it away, not caring who walks in at this point.

She rolls onto her stomach, resting her head on the palms of her hands as she looks up at me. "Do you know what I am?"

I lean back on the bed beside her, turning my head to face her. "I have my suspicions."

"And they are?" She drags out the question like she's unsure if she even wants to ask it.

"You're a vampire."

She smiles softly. "I am. Do you have a better idea of what your role in this is?"

It doesn't take a genius to figure it out—well, as long as the lore is accurate. "That Ms. Barlowe will drink my blood?"

She nods ever so slightly. "Yes. The bi-annual Culling brings together willing humans and vampires. We make a deal. We feed on you for two weeks, and you walk away with a large lump sum of cash."

"Well, at least the cash part is still real," I laugh. "And you said walk away. So she won't…kill me?"

She cackles. "No, I won't kill you." She leans back and sticks her hand out between us. "I suppose that I should properly introduce myself. My name is Vivian …Barlowe ."

Everything falls into place, and it's like the confusing parts of the night are finally clear.

"Barlowe? You're the one they were all talking about? You're the one who bid on me?" I ask, the questions falling from my lips of their own accord.

She glances away, and a look of pain crosses her features, but before I can blink, it's gone, and her gaze is locked back onto mine. "I would love to hear what they were saying. And yes, I'm the one who bid on you."

"Why?" I ask, wondering if this is a dumb thing to ask after what we shared last night.

Her cheeks redden. "Because I'm not a big fan of people touching what's mine."

"Yours?" I chuckle. "Oh, really?"

She looks down into her hands before glancing back up at me, a softness in her hazel eyes, the red gone. "Feeding can be an… intimate experience, especially if there is any attraction between the involved parties. It can be intense in the best of ways. And the thought of another person having their hands all over you with their fangs sunk into your neck makes me…" She trails off. "The only option was this. Otherwise, a vampire would be dead on this hotel room floor the second they tried to bite you."

My dick pulses at her possessiveness. I don't know how I'm finding all of this vampire stuff to seem so normal. Maybe if it were anyone but her telling me this, I would be scared and run out. But maybe this is that something more I've been searching for my entire life.

I'm not going anywhere.

"I love it when you flirt with me," I tease her, and she smiles.

"You think that's flirting? Oh baby, we're just getting started."

Wind rushes through my hair, and in the blink of an eye, she's straddling me, the slit of her dress hitched onto her side.

Resting my hands on her hips, I brush my thumbs against her dress and exposed skin. "That explains how you disappeared last night. For a minute, I thought I had imagined you."

"Sorry about that. I really didn't want to leave," she murmurs, leaning forward and resting her hands on my chest.

Silence stretches between us, and my mind starts racing with a thousand what-ifs and questions of the unknown. I'll start with this. "Will it hurt?"

She shrugs. "At first. The puncture stings, but it quickly fades. Especially when you're willing to accept the bite. Which you have to be. I won't feed on you without your consent."

"Does it feel differently that way?"

She nods. "For an unwilling human, the pain can be excruciating and never-ending during the feeding. The rejection triggers a venom in our fangs to release into their blood, and that's what hurts them and paralyzes them in place. But it's against our rules to feed on anyone who doesn't want it."

I'll make sure that when that time comes, I am thinking only positive thoughts because I definitely don't want to fucking find out what her venom feels like.

I chuckle. "Vampires have rules?

She rolls her eyes. "There's a lot you don't know about my world, Greyson. Look, I'll tell you everything you want to know. But I want to go home first. Get you settled in, and then you can ask me anything."

"Your home?" I ask.

I didn't realize that this arrangement included staying with "my chosen." Although the idea of being in close proximity to Vivian doesn't sound like too bad of a requirement.

"You will have to live with me for the next two weeks. It's part of the agreement." She opens her mouth again like she has something else to say, but her lips close instead before she adds, "If you're not comfortable with all of this, you can leave. I won't make you do anything you don't want to do."

This is insane and the craziest thing I've ever done. But I've also never felt more right . Like this is exactly where I'm supposed to be.

Grabbing her hips, I slide her up until she's positioned against my growing hard-on. I can't help it. The way she feels on top of me…I want her to stay there forever. "Oh, I'm all in. We just have to stop at my apartment first so I can grab some clothes and stuff."

I blink and she's gone, like she teleported across the room. She's now leaning against the wall casually, like she's been waiting on me.

"Are you coming or what?" she asks, biting down on her bottom lip, smiling.

Standing up, I stalk over to her and slide my hand in hers. "One thousand percent."

Opening the door, I let her lead the way as we step through the threshold, and I realize that she was right—my world will never be the same.