Page 7 of Fangs

I stand frozen, unsure how to hold my own body under their eyes.

The Master’s tone makes every inch of my skin prickle. Warning. Threat. Both feel possible.

A woman glides into view. Hair the shade of bleached bone, lips red as fresh wounds. She circles me slowly, eyes traveling over my body with clinical detachment.

“Too thin,” she murmurs. “We’ll need to feed her properly. The bones show through the dress.”

“And so defiant. Look at her, holding herself like a queen instead of a slave.”

“A queen can be broken too, Lady Vesper” The dark-haired man’s smile is a blade. “It’s simply more satisfying.”

My hands curl into fists. I force them open. Don’t let them see how deep the words cut.

“Enough, Cain. You’ll frighten her.”

Another steps forward. Older than the rest. His eyes carry the weight of centuries, of horrors and pleasures and a boredom so profound it has curdled into madness. Silver threads his temples. Power lives in every lean line of his body beneath the dark silk.

“Welcome,” his voice a low vibration that settles deep behind my ribs, “to Bloodgrove Manor.”

Words fail me. Terror sits too heavy on my tongue.

“Your father’s debts,” he continues, “have been settled. The cottage is his, as long as he keeps his hands off the cards. You—” He steps closer, and I feel the cold radiating from his body. “You are ours. Now and forever, until you die.”

“And if I refuse?”

The words tear out before sense can stop them. Stupid.

His smile unfolds slow. “Then your father goes to the debtors’ prison. The cottage becomes property of the Crimson Order. And you stay here anyway. Just less…comfortably.”

He trails one finger down my cheek. I shudder hard. The cold that radiates from his skin is unnatural, seeping through flesh and into bone.

“You understand, don’t you, little pet? There is no choice left. Only obedience. Or suffering.”

He waits, watching me with those cruel eyes. I feel the weight of the other Masters’ gazes. The vast empty hall pressing in from every side like a living thing.

What would Mama say?

Survive. Any way you still can.

I drop my eyes. “I understand.”

“Good.” His hand falls away. “Tomorrow your training begins. I trust you’ll prove an apt pupil.”

Lord Cain steps closer. The same unnatural cold rolls off him in waves. He is impossibly tall, dark hair falling across his frown, eyes the green of fresh leaves after rain.

“One question,” His voice silk wrapped around steel. “Are you on your period?”

I blink hard. “I—what?”

“Your bleeding.” He says it as if it is the most natural demand in the world. “Are you currently menstruating?”

Heat floods my face. I hate standing here in front of these strangers while they demand answers about my body.

“No.” My voice barely above a whisper. “No. I’m not.”

“Good.” Lord Cain’s smile is unbearable. “There will be times when you are, of course. When that happens you will inform Lady Vesper immediately. You’ll be taken to the Isolation Tower until your cycle ends. You will not, under any circumstances, remain in the manor during that time.”

The Isolation Tower. The name alone sends a deeper chill down my spine.