Page 4 of Bought and Shared

Crom grins. “Good. Now, get ready for dinner. You’re being served in the mess hall promptly at five-thirty. The men are looking forward to it. It’ll be the first time in weeks some of them have even laid eyes on a woman. Needless to say, your presence is much anticipated.”

The room begins to buzz with excitement and chatter when the Lieutenant shares this information.

Most of the women begin to unconsciously straighten their dresses and preen their hair at the idea of being viewed by the Voltan.

Cadence and I look at each other, both wearing twin conflicting expressions as the others busy themselves for their first interaction with their potential masters.

When Crom passes by Cadence and me, he stops and gives us both a thorough once over. His eyes linger on my dark-haired friend for a moment, and he shakes his head, mumbling something about needing to “make more money”.

Looking at me sharply then, he orders, “Don’t do that,” when I begin to wind my hair into its usual, severe bun.

Cadence frowns at him and asks, “Why not?” on my behalf.

Crom’s gaze swings between the two of us before he answers. “Because it’s beautiful and the men will want to see it down.”

Possessing a wild streak that I don’t, Cadence arches a challenging brow at the Lieutenant. “And why should that matter to us?”

Crom invades her space and leans down so that their noses are practically touching. “Like I told your friend earlier, the Voltan don’t like to be challenged. They liked to be pleased. So, if you know what’s best for you,” he warns, “you’ll do what you’re told or we’ll make you do it!”

At 5:25 on the dot we’re escorted to the dining hall.

Not wanting to make waves, Cadence and I wear our hair down and loose.

Looking around at the other women, I see that most of them have also chosen to wear makeup.

I can’t deny that I’m jealous of how good they look.

I’ve never been allowed to wear makeup before.

My parents consider it vain and vulgar and I’ve never pushed the issue.

Regardless of their opinions though, at eighteen, I wouldn’t even know where to begin with the stuff.

Things like lipstick, rouge, and eyeshadow are foreign concepts to me.

If I even attempted to apply them, I’m sure I’d look like a ridiculous clown instead of living artwork like some of these women do now.

Cadence reaches over and squeezes my hand when she notices me fretting. “It’s all going to be okay,” she promises, extending a warm smile my way to calm my raw and jangled nerves.

As soon as we step into the cafeteria, I can feel the soldiers’ eyes crawling all over us. The weight of their perusal feels as though I’m trying to walk forward through a brick wall, crushing against my chest and twice as oppressive.

I’ve never liked the attention of men. It makes me nervous and far too self-conscious.

In response to their predatory interest, I start to breathe heavier and faster.

I’m once again painfully aware of how skimpy my dress is and how much of my body is on display.

I feel wanton. Exposed. And available. Everything my parents and our clergy have railed against my entire childhood.

The air is thick with anticipation and something else. Something much more dangerous. It’s animalistic and wild. Though I’m not worldly about such things, I instinctively know what it is.

Unadulterated lust.

I can feel it coat my skin like moisture on a humid summer’s day. I’m not the only one either. Cadence can sense it too. Her fingers tighten on mine as though she is grounding herself as much as comforting me.

Ushering us into line, we select our meals and are shown to our tables in the far corner of the room.

I keep my eyes on the floor as I lower myself onto the bench, my fingers gripping my tray painfully tight.

As turbulent as my stomach is, I’m not going to be able to eat more than a few bites of my dinner if I hope to keep it down.

Staring at my meal, I decide it’s no loss.

It’s a thin stew that looks watery and flavorless.

Not that it matters to me tonight. I wouldn’t be able to enjoy it even if it was my favorite dish in the world.

I’m far too distracted and nervous by the upcoming auction to do anything but fret.

The men’s gazes trail us to our seats like an apex predator does its prey from the edge of a dark wood line.

We hear them talking amongst each other, though I can’t make out anything specific they’re saying.

But their lustful expressions and animated body language tell me well what they are all likely discussing, and it thoroughly unnerves me.

The only one who’s not affected by the tense atmosphere is the rainbow-haired girl from the bus whose name I belatedly learned was Amy.

Amy is playfully brazen with the men. She has more confidence than all of us combined.

She’s laughing, teasing, and blowing them kisses.

Though I’m not sure any of that is “normal”, I can’t help but be envious of how brave and outgoing she is.

Cadence keeps up a steady stream of conversation throughout the meal as I force myself to chew and swallow my food.

I’m so grateful for her strong presence I could cry.

Truly, I don’t think anyone has ever been so kind to me in my whole life.

I’m so used to being ignored and dismissed that it’s become second nature for me to want to disappear into the background where it’s quiet and safe.

The soldiers find reasons throughout the meal to stroll past our tables.

Some don’t even try to hide their intentions.

They stop when they see a pretty girl they like, lean down, and whisper naughty things into her ear.

The women predictably blush at their advances and giggle nervously.

Some nod and whisper things back. I can only guess at what is being said, but I’m sure it has everything to do with the auction tonight.

When it happens to Cadence, I hold my breath and try not to panic.

The interlude is brief, but I can practically feel my friend’s heartbeat through the wooden bench we sit on.

After the meal is over, we’re ordered to clean up after ourselves.

As I’m stacking my tray upon a pile of others, I see one certain Voltan who makes my feet stop moving and my heart start pounding.

It’s as though I’ve been physically hit by a truck and struck by lightning simultaneously.

My body flushes for an entirely different reason than it has thus far.

When the beautiful soldier locks eyes with me, I feel like liquid fire is suddenly coursing through my veins.

I realize that between my legs I’m immediately hot and slippery and that secret place deep inside my core begins to ache with longing.

The tiny bud that’s hidden between my folds begins to pulse to life and my lips slightly part as though I’m about to openly moan with pleasure.

My reaction is horrifyingly embarrassing, yet I can do nothing about it.

I’m lost. I feel as though some monumental something has just shifted into place.

My entire being is completely consumed by the synapses firing off in my brain and the hormones flooding my hyper-sensitive system. Completely consumed by him.

I become dimly aware that he has frozen too and is gazing at me with a peculiar and inscrutable look on his handsome face.

It’s not quite the same as the blatant lust the others have shown.

There is something other happening in this moment.

As we continue to stare, the sound of the room drops out.

Everyone and everything fades away but the two of us.

I’m entranced. Drowning. And so needy, I’m afraid I might do something crazy like throw myself into his arms and beg him to purchase my contract right now or else I’ll die.

I’m not the only one who feels the strange pull though.

The man with pitch-black hair, clear blue eyes, and full red lips, apparently feels it too.

He stands at least a foot and a half above my five-foot, two-inch frame, and his magnetic presence all but swallows me whole as we stand there, completely transfixed by the other.

He seems to be panting and his pupils blow wide, subsuming his blue irises with bottomless black.

The line of women behind me grows irritated with my lack of forward momentum then, and someone shoves me forward.

Acting fast, the officer reaches out and steadies me by gripping my arm.

Dragging me in close before I can tumble to the floor, he presses me into his broad chest, one hand at the small of my back and one on the back of my head, as we silently stare into one another’s souls.