Auction: Part 2

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"Why did you bring me to Nashville?"

Kieran looked out through the limousine's window. The auction building loomed above them with tacky flashing lights. The humans used to call it the AT&T Building.

This type of industry was below him. The thought of wasting his money at such a place was revolting to him.

"Oh, come on, you used to bid on humans back in the day," said his youngest brother, Blaise.

Kieran scoffed at the comment. He hated bringing up the past. "That was one time."

It was their turn to get out of the car. Blaise sighed. "You're so moody. It's been, what, 300ish years since your incident with Van Helsing? I'm just trying to cheer you up. You haven't properly taken blood since—"

"Because," Kieran snapped. "You know I can't drink blood. Besides, I don't need anyone."

"Sometimes you need to let it go, brother. You act strong on the outside, but I see otherwise." Blaise was annoyingly intuitive. Kieran was lucky it was Blaise who noticed how weak he actually was, and not another one of his siblings. They would've picked him off years ago if they knew how much he had fallen after what Van Helsing, the most famous vampire hunter in history, had done to him all those years ago.

He refused to take off his perfect, outer mask. "You should mind your own business."

"...If you say so. Who knows, maybe you'll find something tonight. I have a good feeling. Here," Blaise paused as he ruffled through his hot pink purse. He pulled out a masquerade mask. It was simple and not too showy. "Wear this. This auction house requires them."

"Ugh," Kieran sighed. He pushed his burgundy hair away from his eyes to put on the darn thing. At least it mostly concealed his crimson eyes, a symptom of blood deprivation.

When the chauffeur opened their car door, they went inside with the other vampires. It was a mixture of low, middle, and high-ranked individuals. Kieran was actually glad for the black mask; if the guests knew who they were, they'd flock to them, trying to get on their good side. Everyone wanted to be acquaintances with the princes and princesses of Avania.

And if they became acquaintances, those fools would get cocky and ask for money or favors. There were countless times when a quick conversation led to a misunderstanding that they were suddenly friends. Such inconveniences were exactly why Kieran stopped attending most parties and events unless it required his presence.

A long time ago, he would've been the first one there to enjoy life's temptations, but not anymore.

Some of the vampires were drinking from their recently purchased blood slaves in the lobby. The humans were crying. Kieran felt indifferent to humans and the blood slave system in general, but to do that intimate act in public was undignified. The coppery aroma reached his nostrils. His stomach flipped with nausea. If the smell of blood alone could cause this, imagine actually drinking it. During the rare times he fed on the volunteer donators to stay sane, he spent hours heaving over a toilet.

That was why he had stopped being the prideful asshole he used to be. He was still full of himself, but it wasn't as bad as it was. Thanks to Van Helsing, Kieran couldn't take blood without being sick, causing him to be incredibly weak. This disability was the reason why their stepfather dethroned him as the next-in-line to be king and gave it to the second-oldest brother.

At the time, it'd damaged his ego. Kieran was Pride, after all, the worst of the Seven Deadly Sins. A human meeting him for the first time wouldn't know who he was since his mark wasn't visible anymore. During the endless years of torture, that hunter had burned off his lion mark on his nape. It was nothing more than an ugly scar now.

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