Page 43 of Devour (Blood and Roses #1)

Ariel

W hen I open my eyes again, my head feels like it’s been through a blender—like I spent the whole night downing drinks at a bar.

My vision is blurry, my ears are ringing, and the voice speaking nearby sounds foreign, like it’s underwater. Someone helps me sit up, and a wave of nausea hits hard.

My stomach cramps, but nothing comes out. A gentle hand pats my back as I gasp for air, sweating and disoriented.

When I finally get my bearings, I notice the person comforting me. She looks young, maybe twenty-two, or even younger. Blonde, chubby, and beautiful.

“Are you okay? Let me get the nurse,” she says, starting to stand.

I grab her arm weakly, shaking my head. “I’m fine.” She doesn’t look convinced. Her eyes linger on me like she’s waiting for me to collapse again.

“Where are we?” I ask, my voice hoarse. She blinks, startled, like I just told a bad joke. But when she sees that I’m serious, her expression shifts.

“You don’t know?” she says slowly. “We’re at the Crimson Dawn Auction House.”

She keeps talking, but her voice starts to fade as panic settles in. I can barely hear anything after that.

“You were brought in early this morning…”

My brain stalls at Crimson Dawn . I close my eyes, trying to remember where I’ve heard that name before. Yes—I remember now. That bastard who kidnapped me—the older one, the one whose name I never caught—he said something about selling me to the Crimson Dawn .

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

My eyes snap open, realizing I’d closed them again. I don’t want her thinking I need a nurse. “Yes, I’m fine.” That’s when I noticed the room, no windows—rows of single beds lined up across from each other.

My brain’s still foggy, but I count roughly twenty, maybe more. Each one is occupied by a different girl, all ranging from their early to mid-twenties. Some are already up, moving around, getting ready… for who knows what. I turned back to her, realizing I never asked her name. She catches on.

“Lucia.”

“Lucia,” I repeat. “I’m Ariel. Can you tell me what the heck is going on here?”

She looks taken aback by my language, and I immediately feel the need to apologize. Before she can answer, an alarm blares through the room.

“We’ve got an hour to get ready, or we’ll miss breakfast,” she says, already moving.

My stomach growls at the mention of food. The last thing I ate was yesterday morning.

“What…” She sees I haven’t moved and turns back toward me.

“Hurry, we have to bathe before the hot water runs out.”

I throw back the covers, not because I care about hot water, but because I want answers. When I stand, I sway slightly, and she rushes over to steady me. Once I’m sure I won’t collapse again, I give her a small nod.

“I can walk by myself.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure. Lana… thank you.” She blushes, like she’s not used to being praised.

“We have to hurry now.”

Most of the girls who were in the room are gone, probably in the bathroom. The bathroom is a shared one. It’s white and spotless, just like the dorm.

I hesitate to take off my clothes and shower butt naked in front of strangers. Lana, on the other hand, has already shrugged off her clothes and is about to step under the shower. When she sees I’m still fully clothed.

“You have to get in now, before the hot water runs out.”

Trying to distract myself from the fact that I’m about to be naked in front of strangers, I ask, “How long have you been here?” while undressing.

“About a week now. Same as everyone else.”

“And what have you all been doing this week?”

“Nothing really. Just classes,” she replies, lathering soap over her body.

“We’re given a week to adjust to the reality of being here.”

She gives me a pitying look as I step under the shower head beside her and turn it on.

“You won’t have that privilege. Training starts today.”

She finishes first and wraps a towel around herself just as I begin rinsing. Without warning, the water turns freezing cold, sending a jolt through my system. I gasp and shut it off quickly.

“Told you hot water runs out,”

I quickly turn off the water and step out of the shower, shivering slightly as I wrap a towel around myself.

“We need to get dressed.”

She leads me to the shared closet. All the clothes and underwear are white. As I scan through the rows of fabric, I notice all the outfits are the same: short dresses with spaghetti straps.

“The clothes are identical.”

“Yeah,” Lana confirms a few feet away. “They’re just different sizes.”

I finally pull out one I think might fit, only for someone to snatch it from my hands.

“That’s mine,” she says sharply.

I move to take it back, but Lana places a hand on my arm.

“Don’t. You don’t want to start anything with her. That’s Livia. She thinks she’s the most beautiful girl here just because the Mistresses like her.”

“I’m not fighting for her crown,” I mutter. “I have zero interest in being the prettiest if it means getting sold to the highest bidder.”

“She’s just jealous. Now she’s got prettier competition.”

“You mean me?”

“Yes. Have you looked in the mirror lately? You’re glowing.”

If only she knew, I don’t feel like I’m glowing inside. I feel like I’m unraveling. “You’re beautiful too,” I say, and she blushes.

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“Yes. I am saying it to make you feel better. Because it’s true.” She laughs softly and changes the subject.

“Come on, let’s get dressed or we’ll be late for breakfast.”

The smell hits me before I even see the food. My stomach churns violently, and I have to cover my mouth, swallowing hard to keep bile from rising. If I had anything in me, it would’ve been all over the floor. Lucia catches my reaction before I can hide it.

“Are you okay? You look pale. You need to sit down.”

I nod. She’s right, I’m getting lightheaded.

“You’re sweating. Are you sure you don’t need to see a doctor?”

“I’m fine,” I assure her, lowering myself into the first chair I see as we enter the hall. “I just haven’t eaten in a while.”

“Okay,” she says gently.

“Let me get you something to eat. I’ll be right back.”

Once she leaves, I take a moment to look around. There are no windows, just like the dorm. A creeping thought settles in we might be underground. I take a deep breath, trying not to spiral. Then I shift my focus to myself.

I can’t afford to get sick in this place. I have to be strong—for when Luca comes to save me. I know he’ll turn the world upside down to find me. I miss Noah too, I wonder how he’s doing. I cut off the thought when I see how emotional it makes me. This isn’t the time to get sentimental.

My stomach still feels queasy. I chalk it up to a stomach bug. But yesterday…a terrifying thought flashed through my mind. What if that bastard raped me while I was passed out? Just the thought of it makes my skin crawl.

I shift uncomfortably on the wooden chair, pressing down slightly on my center, checking for any pain or discomfort. But there’s nothing—no soreness, no pressure. And judging by how rough he was with his fingers… if he had done anything more, I don’t think he would’ve been gentle.

Another shiver runs through me just thinking about it. Lana returns with two trays loaded with food—eggs, toast, fruit, oatmeal, and bottled water. I force a smile, not wanting to worry her. She sets the tray in front of me and sits across from me with her own.

“Wow…. thank you.” Looking down at the meal. “They really go all out with the food.”

“They feed us well,” she replies.

They’re fattening us up for slaughter, I think, but keep the words to myself. No need to ruin the illusion for her.

I push the food around on my plate in small bites, not having much of an appetite. To distract her from noticing I’m not eating much, I ask, “So… how did you get here?”

“My father sold me,” she says simply.

I want to press for more, but I don’t. It’s clearly a painful subject. Still, she continues, like getting it out might lighten the weight on her chest.

“His company’s going bankrupt. And he sees his fat daughter as a way to make enough money to save it.”

I place my hand gently on hers, offering comfort the best way I can. “You shouldn’t say that about yourself. You’re not fat—you’re curvy, sexy, and beautiful.

When you start believing the worst about yourself, that’s when people can really hurt you.” She gives a small shrug.

“I’ll be happy if I get a rich master at the auction. At least then I won’t have to worry about being sold again.”

She’s so naive. I want to tell her it doesn’t work like that—that a rich master doesn’t guarantee kindness. What if she ends up with someone cruel? But I keep my thoughts to myself, and we fall into silence after that.

“You didn’t eat much,” she eventually says, eyeing my barely touched tray. She sees right through me.

“The food just isn’t to my liking.”

She looks surprised, like I’ve just rejected a five-star restaurant breakfast. “I just prefer home-cooked meals.” She nods in understanding.

“I miss those too.”

As we’re returning our dirty dishes, a voice calls out from the doorway.

“Ladies, be at the training room in five minutes.”

Then she vanishes back through the door, happy shriek echoing in her wake. Are these girls being serious, they’re about be sold and they are excited

Few minutes later, we enter a room that, to me, looks like a torture chamber. Leather whips, restraints, paddles, cuffs and things I don’t recognize are lined up neatly, like tools in a twisted museum.

The scent of leather and cold steel fills the air and leaves a sick feeling in my stomach. I can’t help but wonder what they plan on doing with all this equipment. I don’t like this place; this room in particular gives me the creeps.

I finally notice the woman standing at the front of the room, almost at the same time the rest of the girls do.

They all stop murmuring and face her. Her posture alone commands attention. She looks to be in her early forties—tall and slim, with sharp cheekbones and wire-rimmed glasses perched on her nose. She stands perfectly straight, almost military-like, her expression unreadable.

“Ladies, welcome to your first training lesson,” the woman says, her voice crisp and authoritative, laced with a French accent.

“You may call me Mistress Tilly. I will be teaching you everything you need to know to properly please your future master. You have one week to master everything I teach you.”

She gestures to the array of items hanging on the walls.

“As you may have noticed when you entered, this room is filled with tools. I will teach you the names of each one and how they’re used.

Your future master might be into BDSM—bondage, discipline, dominance, submission, sadism, and masochism, and you must be prepared to please him, whatever his tastes may be. ”

She begins describing the equipment, and I can’t hide the disgust on my face when she holds up a butt plug and explains its use. I don’t understand why anyone would want something shoved up there.

“Do I smell?”

The voice snaps me out of my daze. I look up—Mistress Tilly is standing right in front of me. “What?” I stammer, caught off guard.

“I said, do I smell?”

“No—no!” I wave my hands in front of me awkwardly. “Of course not.”

“Then why the look of disgust?”

I don’t want to admit I find the butt plug, and all the other equipment in this room—completely awful. I can’t imagine any sane person using these things.

“It’s nothing… Mistress Tilly,” I mutter. She narrows her eyes and holds up a strange metal contraption.

“Then you can describe how this works at our next session.”

It’s a nipple clamp—two small clamps connected by a thin chain, with rubber-tipped ends that look like they were made to hurt. She had mentioned it earlier, but now she wants me to wear it. I stare at it, not wanting it anywhere near my nipples. Someone nudges me. I turn—it’s Lucia.

“Take it,” she whispers urgently.

I realize I’ve kept Mistress Tilly waiting too long, her hand still outstretched. She’s clearly pissed. I snatch the clamp from her hand, already regretting it. I think I just made an enemy on my first day.

A snicker echoes through the room. I don’t need to look to know it’s Livia. “Bitch,” I mutter under my breath. Mistress Tilly gives me a long once-over, her gaze sharp and full of warning. Great. Just what I needed—attention.

All I wanted was to stay invisible, keep my head down, and maybe, just maybe, find a way to avoid the auction.

She returns to explaining the rest of the equipment, but her words become a blur in my ears.

I can’t focus. I barely manage to keep my expression neutral until the session ends and we’re finally sent back to the dorm.