Chapter Six: The Auction

King kept stealing glances at the girl beside him.

He never would have imagined her to be Nathan's cousin.

The memory of seeing her in the garden earlier still lingered in his mind—her white dress, her long black hair braided over her shoulder, the roses surrounding her like a scene from a painting.

She had looked so delicate. So serene.

Nothing like the girl who had slapped him.

God, she had looked innocent. The only thing that betrayed her bold nature were the crimson streaks in her hair.

The car ride was unbearably silent. No one spoke, and King wasn't sure if that was better or worse. The only sounds were the soft purr of the engine and the rhythmic hum of the tires against the road. A faint trace of Myra's perfume lingered in the air—a subtle mix of vanilla and something sharp, almost like blood oranges. He didn't know why, but it suited her.

By the time they arrived at the auction, Myra was already determined to ignore him completely.

She had never been to an auction before, and she wasn't about to let him ruin her first experience.

As they entered the building, she took a moment to examine him from the corner of her eye.

She had to admit—for a human, he was irritatingly handsome.

But that didn't change a thing. If it were up to her, she would rip his head off and toss it into the Danube.

"Mr. Lust, Mr. Aphelion, it's nice to see you again," the receptionist greeted as she handed King and Nathan their masks—ones that covered their entire faces. The material was smooth and cool against his skin, a perfect blend of mystery and arrogance.

Then, the receptionist turned to her.

"You must be new here," she said with a warm smile. "I'm Lara."

Myra nodded slightly, taking the mask without a word. The edges pressed against her cheekbones, the faint scent of polished leather tickling her nose. She considered asking why they needed masks, but ultimately decided she didn't care enough to ask.

They entered just in time for the auction to begin.

Myra barely paid attention.

Jewelry, priceless artworks—none of it interested her.

It all seemed boring.

Then—

"Now, ladies and gentlemen, this is the last item on our list."

Myra lifted her head—only to gasp.

A dagger.

A beautiful dagger.

Sleek, silver, the hilt adorned with dark rubies that shimmered under the dim auction lights. Something about it called to her, an inexplicable pull that made her fingers twitch with the urge to hold it.

"Let's start the bidding at three hundred and fifty thousand," the auctioneer announced.

"Three hundred and fifty thousand!" Myra called out instantly, her voice ringing through the hall.

Nathan and King both turned to stare at her, clearly surprised.

Of all the things displayed tonight, she was bidding on a dagger?

"Three hundred seventy thousand," someone else called.

Myra scowled.

She wanted that dagger.

"Three hundred eighty thousand," she countered immediately.

Another bid.

Then another.

Her frustration grew. Why was this so difficult? If these people had so much money to throw around, why not use it to make the world a better place?

Hesitantly, she raised her paddle.

"Four hundred thousand."

Silence.

Then—

"Four hundred ten thousand."

Myra growled under her breath. Why couldn't they just leave it alone?

She clenched her jaw, debating whether she should keep going.

Before she could decide, a familiar voice spoke beside her.

"Four hundred fifty thousand."

Myra's head snapped to the side.

No.

Not him.

King leaned back, relaxed.

She could feel his smirk beneath the mask.

Her blood boiled.

"Four hundred sixty thousand," she shot back.

And just like that, it turned into a bidding war.

"Four hundred eighty thousand," King countered smoothly.

Myra bit her lower lip.

She couldn't let him have it.

"Four hundred ninety thousand."

King barely hesitated.

"Six hundred thousand."

The entire room fell silent.

Even though his face was hidden behind the mask, Myra knew he was grinning.

He had spent six hundred thousand just to piss her off.

Vampires weren't the only sadistic creatures in this world, apparently.

Her hands clenched into fists.

The auctioneer finalized the sale, and Myra shot to her feet.

She stormed out of the building without a word.

King watched her go, amused.

Nathan, however, looked less entertained.

"Why are you bothering her?" Nathan asked, arms crossed as they walked to the reception area.

King smirked. "She slapped me."

"Because you kissed her without her permission," Nathan deadpanned.

King shrugged. "Details."

Nathan exhaled, rubbing his temple.

By the time they reached the car, Myra was already inside, head resting against the window, frowning.

Nathan was about to sit beside her to prevent any conflict, but King got there first.

Nathan sighed.

Why is he asking for an early death?

The car pulled out onto the road, and for a while, it was quiet.

Then King spoke.

"You know the dagger I bought today?" His voice was light, teasing. "I'm going to put it in a box and have it sunk to the bottom of the ocean."

Myra's eyes snapped open.

In an instant, she slammed him against the car door, gripping his collar.

The thud made the chauffeur instinctively hit the brakes.

Nathan glanced back, unfazed.

"Why are we stopping?" he asked the driver. "Keep driving."

Myra's grip tightened.

"I'm so sick of you."

King's smirk only grew.

"I don't understand you," she seethed. "You didn't want the dagger, so why buy it?"

King shrugged. "You're right. I don't want the dagger."

Her glare intensified.

"But if you do," he continued, "I'll give it to you."

She narrowed her eyes.

King grinned.

"On one condition."

Of course.

"I'll give you the dagger if you beat me in a motorcycle race."

Myra frowned. "A what?"

"From my manor to Bram Castle."

She hesitated.

That was a long distance. Absurdly long.

"If you win, the dagger is yours," King said. "But if I win… you have to do three things for me."

"Why three?"

"This dagger was too expensive for just one favor," he replied easily. "So? Do we have a deal?"

Myra stayed quiet for a moment.

She wanted that dagger. Badly.

Finally, she let go of his collar.

"Fine."

A slow smile spread across King's lips.

As they arrived at the manor, Myra stepped out, Nathan following beside her.

She was about to head inside when Nathan spoke.

"Do you even know how to ride a motorcycle?"

Myra froze.

Nathan sighed.

Of course she didn't.

___

King leaned forward, his fingers drumming lightly against the polished wood of the dining table. The dim glow of the chandelier overhead cast long shadows across the room, flickering slightly as a draft swept in from the half-open window. Outside, the distant howl of the wind echoed through the trees, but King barely noticed. His mind was elsewhere.

Alvin adjusted his glasses, shifting uneasily under his employer's intense stare. He had seen King Lust in many moods—amused, calculating, even vengeful—but there was something different about him now. An obsession lurked beneath his usual smug demeanor, a sharp edge that made the air in the room feel heavier.

"No birth records. No digital footprint. No trace of her outside the Thorn name," Alvin repeated, voice carefully measured. "It's almost as if she was wiped from existence."

King exhaled through his nose, lips curling slightly. "That doesn't just happen. Either someone's hiding her, or…" His fingers stopped drumming. "Or she was never meant to exist in the first place."

Alvin hesitated. He had been in King's service long enough to know that when he got like this—silent, brooding, eyes flickering with a dangerous glint—it meant trouble. Oh God, if the pay wasn't so good it would be better to quit..

"You want me to keep digging?" Alvin asked cautiously.

A slow smirk stretched across King's face, but there was no humor in it. "Of course. If someone went through all this trouble to erase her, then that means there's something worth finding."

Alvin nodded, adjusting the file in his hands. "And Thomas and Winter Thorn?"

King's gaze darkened. The very mention of their names sent a ripple of something unspoken through him.

"Everything," he said. "I want to know what they were hiding. Where they came from. And most importantly…" His voice dipped lower, like a blade slicing through the air. "How they died, and if they had any children."

Alvin's fingers clenched around the folder. "Understood."

As he turned to leave, King spoke again, his voice almost casual.

"Oh, and Alvin?"

The man froze, glancing over his shoulder.

King tilted his head slightly, the candlelight reflecting in his sharp, golden eyes. "Find out what Myra's bloodline really is."

Alvin's breath hitched for just a second before he quickly bowed his head. "I'll see what I can uncover."

King leaned back as Alvin disappeared into the hall, the sound of retreating footsteps fading into the night.

A slow chuckle rumbled in his chest as he swirled the glass of water in his hand, watching the liquid catch the light.

"Oh, Rose…" he murmured to himself.

He had a feeling she was much more than she seemed.

And he couldn't wait to find out just how deep her secrets ran.