Denya clamped her eyes shut, the sounds of the surrounding females merging into one incessant noise inside her skull.

Please, Gods. Gods, please.

The cool air breezed her skin, puckering her nipples in false display. Her hands had been tied up, her clothes stripped down to the provocative lingerie the succubus had forced on her. The burn of the rope bit into her wrists, while she hung from the rafters, her tiptoes balancing on the wooden plank beneath her.

On display.

From what she could gather, she’d been taken to auction in some sort of rundown-looking tavern on the edge of a town that didn’t seem to be populated by anyone. Though, from the voices that reached her ears, rising over the sounds of an auctioneer, the whole damn village seemed to have come to witness the sale of her body.

A tremor vibrated beneath her skin, the horror of facing the truth enough to make her crumble and shatter into fragments that could never be pieced together again. She’d heard of girls who’d been sold off like cattle. How they never came back from the darkness. How the reality of their circumstances had crushed them into dust beneath their captor’s boot. She knew, if she opened her eyes, that terrifying certainty would pull her under, too.

She wasn’t the only one. The girls she’d traveled with hung beside her, and more girls had arrived sometime in the week, like some kind of trafficking convention. Foreign hands roamed her body, and if not for the strength of her mind, and the determination to get free and find Safina, she’d have collapsed into herself, pulled under by the weight of shame.

The succubus and two males who’d brought her to the town had kept a close watch on her from the time she’d emerged from the well. No doubt, they’d anticipated her escape. And even when she’d found a moment, during a piss break when they’d camped out off the side of the road, to make a run for it, they’d been on her heels like Cheetahs on a goddamn gazelle.

A soft glide across her arm flinched Denya’s muscles and yanked her from her thoughts, bringing her back to the sickening sounds of the auction.

“Denyalis. Twenty-two years old. Verified virgin.” Denya recognized the voice of her handler, the female succubus.

“She has papers to prove it?” The responding voice arrived like velvet, and another stroke prompted her to open her eyes.

“Of course, sire,” the bitch succubus answered, arms crossed as she stood off to the side.

A male dressed in the regal attire of a prince stood before Denya. Beside him was a beautiful young female, perhaps not much older than Denya, with long plaits of blonde hair resting on her shoulder, and she examined her with the same scrutiny as if she were produce sold at the market.

The haughty incline of the male’s chin, and the way he stared down his perfect roman nose, told her he’d been raised in luxury and probably wouldn’t relate to a damn thing Denya felt right then, so pleading for his help would be useless. The strong square of his jaw, perfect bronze of his skin, and lithe but muscular build suggested he might have been one of the many princes of lust. He gave off an intensely sexual vibe, much stronger than the incubi he’d have borne as sons.

The succubi, too, were descendants of lust, however distant. Their genetics whittled down by centuries of mating with humans, which probably made the asshole a second cousin, once removed, or something.

“How much for her?” he asked, cocking his head to the side, toward the succubus who’d dragged her there.

“Not for sale, asshole!” Denya hissed, hocking a gob of spit in his face.

Wiping the glisten from his cheek, he stretched his lips into a wicked grin, his fiery gaze tearing across the small space that separated them. “No price is too high for this one. I’ll arrange to have whatever amount you determine transferred at once.”

“Sire?” The edge of excitement in the succubus’s voice snarled Denya’s lip, and her fingers curled into fists as she wished she could punch the shit out of the female. “Wonderful news, I’ll draft an offer for you within the hour.”

“Perfect.” He stepped forward, shrinking Denya beneath his massive form. “As for you, my succulent flower, enjoy your impunity while it lasts. Such acts of defiance only fuel my cruel nature. I assure you, I will not let the next infraction slide.”

Denya’s eyes widened with fear. And for the first time since she’d been captured, the glimmer of hope faded from her horizon.

* * *