The carriage rattled over cobblestones slick with moonlight, drawn by creatures Maryna refused to believe were horses. Vasilios sat beside her, silent and composed, dressed in black silk and velvet. A mask of silver filigree rested in his hand, though he hadn't yet put it on.
Maryna, by contrast, wore hers.
A delicate thing of onyx lace, barely disguising her face but turning her into someone else entirely—someone who could survive what waited behind the gilded doors.
"You will stay close to me," Vasilios said without looking at her.
"Do not wander. Do not speak unless spoken to. Do not, under any circumstances, leave my side."
"And if I do?" she asked, her voice calm but brittle.
He turned then, slowly, his crimson eyes locking onto hers.
"If you do, Mariposa," he said, his voice a soft blade, "they will not ask permission to take what they want."
Maryna said nothing.
She didn't need to.
Because she already knew.
The ballroom was a cathedral of decadence—towering ceilings painted with scenes of war and worship, candlelight dripping from black chandeliers, the air thick with perfume, blood, and lust.
The guests were otherworldly.
Some wore masks made of bone or precious metals; others wore none at all, their unnatural beauty unhidden, their fangs glinting when they smiled.
And they smiled at her. All of them.
Maryna felt it immediately.
The hunger.
Predatory. Malevolent. Curious.
A few of the women lounged openly on silk cushions in side alcoves, eyes vacant, necks bared. Their gowns hung loosely from their shoulders breasts exposed—if they wore anything at all. One of them was laughing as two vampires took turns tasting her throat, their mouths red and wet.
Another woman knelt between a pair of vampire men, her expression dazed, her skin marked with fresh bites and bruises. Her dress was pushed up around her waist. One had her by the hair, moving methodically in and out of her mouth. The other was taking her from behind. His nails digging into her waist. I watched as the blood ran down her sides.
She didn't resist. She couldn't.
Maryna's stomach turned.
She saw the other human girls too—decorated, draped in jewels, their collars engraved with their owners' sigils. Party favors. Pets.
Some were brought in pairs.
Some were led on leashes.
And all of them were used. They were the amusement. The entertainment for the evening.
Maryna's breath caught in her throat as a tall vampire in gold approached, eyes glinting behind a half-mask. He looked her over slowly, hungerly, like a butcher choosing meat.
"You brought a new one," he said to Vasilios. "She's exquisite." His voice was intoxicating.
Vasilios didn't flinch.
"She is not for sharing."
The vampire tilted his head. "Yet."
Maryna felt the stares, the silent calculations behind them. Panic began to set in.
They wanted her.
Not just her blood.
Her body.
Her submission.
Her destruction.
She'd seen that look before—on Rick's face.
She'd learned young what men meant when they looked at her like that.
What they wanted.
She was fourteen the first time she saw his gaze shift—from dismissive and abusive to possessive.
She was fifteen when he started coming home drunk and standing a little too close making her skin crawl.
She was sixteen when he began locking her bedroom door—from the outside to ensure she stayed pure — for him. For their "big night."
And she was seventeen when she started sleeping with a knife under her pillow in case he grew impatient.
She'd always known his plan.
He never said it, but she could feel it.
He was waiting for her eighteenth birthday. He'd lock her up to make sure she remained untouched. He would whisper that she belonged to him and only he would ever have her. She was waiting too, like a death sentence.
She would run before then.
She'd had a plan.
College. Freedom.
Gone in a single night.
A poker game. After all of his years of planning and waiting he'd bet her virginity and her life at the card table.
She wasn't a daughter. She wasn't the object of his desire.
She was currency.
More specifically her virginity was currency.
Something to be bought, sold, given or traded. But not by her. She had no control over who would take her body.
First it was Rick who held the key.
And now…
Now she was here.
Another man's prize.
Another house of monsters.
Only this one wore a silk mask and spoke in poetry.
Only this one had the power to protect her.
Or feed her to them.
Maryna's heart beat hard against her ribs as Vasilios guided her through the room, his hand firm at the small of her back.
He was her shield—but only so long as she pleased him.
There are worse cages than this one
Only so long as she belonged to him.
There are worse cages than this one
And every step she took made one thing clearer:
There was nowhere left to run.
To be continued…