Chapter Eight – The Auction
Eira did what she always did—she thought. For days, maybe even a week, the question gnawed at her: what was her body worth? And what would it cost her to let go of the only thing she still technically owned?
Her innocence wasn’t sacred anymore. Not to her. Not after what she’d seen. Not after what she’d lived through. It was just another tether to a life that had tried to strangle her.
She was tired of being hunted. Tired of running. Tired of waiting for her freedom to fall into her lap.
So one morning, before the sun had fully risen and the brothel stirred awake, Eira found herself standing in the madam’s office. She didn’t fidget. She didn’t shake. She only spoke.
"I want to sell it," she said. "My virginity."
The madam blinked at her, then leaned back slowly in her chair.
Cass, who’d followed close behind, tensed beside her. "Eira—"
But Eira held up a hand.
"I know what I’m saying. I’m not afraid of it. I just want to choose how it happens. I want the coin. I want the control."
The madam studied her for a long, silent beat.
Then: "There will be buyers. Wealthy ones. But once it’s done, you can’t undo it."
"I know," Eira said. Her voice didn’t tremble.
And with that, her fate began to change—by her own hand.
The days leading up to the auction blurred together in a haze of preparation.
Cass was the one who took her in hand. She brushed Eira’s hair until it shone like spun gold, soaked her in rose water, and rubbed scented oils into her skin until it glowed. She taught her how to walk with slow, intentional grace and how to meet a man’s gaze without flinching.
“You don’t look down,” Cass said, tying a silk ribbon around Eira’s neck. “You’re not prey. They can want you. They can even bid for you. But you are never the one being devoured. You allow the bite.”
Eira practiced smiling. Holding her posture. Speaking with composure.
But at night, she still curled up beneath her blanket, staring at the ceiling with her heart pounding in her throat.
She wasn’t afraid of pain. She was afraid of what this meant—what it would do to her. Who it would make her become.
And still, she never wavered.
When the night arrived, she was ready.
The upstairs parlor had been transformed. Silk draped the walls. Candles lined the room in golden light. The madam sat in her corner, flanked by two guards. Invitations had been sent discreetly, and the men who arrived were veiled in shadows and heavy coin.
Eira stood behind the curtain, her hands trembling only slightly. Cass stood with her, whispering softly into her ear.
“Once the bidding starts, don’t look away. Pick someone if you can stomach it. Someone who won’t rip you apart. I’ll be waiting.”
Then the curtain lifted.
Eira stepped out.
The air in the room changed. Everything fell silent.
She was barefoot, wrapped in a sheer white gown that whispered against her ankles. A single pearl hung from her throat. Her hair fell in soft waves down her back. She kept her shoulders straight, her chin high.
The bidding began.
Voices, deep and cloaked in smoke, rose one by one.
Five hundred.
Eight hundred.
A thousand.
The numbers climbed, and Eira stood still through it all—heart pounding, vision narrowing.
Until one voice broke through.
Low. Cold. Feral.
“Two thousand.”
The room went still.
Eira’s eyes searched the shadows—and locked onto him.
And everything inside her stopped.
The madam’s voice broke the silence. “Sold.”
Chairs scraped. A few murmurs passed through the room. But all Eira could do was stare.
He stepped forward—tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in tailored black. The light caught on the edge of his jaw, revealing a cruel, handsome face with eyes like sharpened glass. He was young, maybe thirty, but there was nothing soft or forgiving about him.
He didn’t smile.
He looked at her like she was already his.
Then he turned to the madam.
“I’ll return in an hour,” he said, voice smooth and cold. “Have her cleaned. Ready. I want her untouched, but not shaking.”
The madam nodded, her tone clipped. “Of course.”
Without sparing Eira another glance, he walked away, the echo of his boots fading into the velvet hush.
Cass moved beside her, placing a hand on her back.
But Eira didn’t move.
She just stood there, heart thudding.
Because she’d expected fear.
But what bloomed inside her instead…
Was something far more dangerous.
Cass led her quietly out of the parlor and down a long corridor. The house was hushed now, the candlelight feeling thicker, heavier. Eira’s feet moved automatically, her mind still caught somewhere between fire and ice.
Cass opened a small, private room at the end of the hall. A fresh bath had already been drawn, steam curling like smoke above the water.
She closed the door behind them.
“You did well,” Cass said softly, brushing Eira’s hair back from her temple. “But I need you to listen to me now.”
Eira nodded, though her chest felt like it was wrapped in wire.
Cass took her hand and guided her to sit on the edge of the bed.
“That man who bought you… He’s not gentle, Eira.”
Her breath caught.
“He’s known here. Keeps to himself. Doesn’t come often, but when he does, the girls know to keep their distance. He’s never harmed anyone, but he doesn’t come for softness. He wants control. Obedience. Power.”
Eira swallowed hard, but her voice was steady. “Do you think he’ll hurt me?”
Cass crouched in front of her. “Not if you don’t fight him. Not if you give him what he came for.”
Eira looked away.
Cass squeezed her hand. “But that doesn’t mean you break. You breathe through it. You survive it. And when it’s done, you take your coin, and you walk out of this house knowing you did it on your terms.”
Eira nodded slowly, chest rising and falling like a tide.
She would face this.
She would own it.
Even if it changed her forever.