Gaslight (Crossbreed #4)(61)

“Hunger makes you appreciate life the way a fat belly never can.”

He arched a brow. “Even in my human life I always had money. I can’t imagine not having choices, and that’s what money provides. Fortune doesn’t mean filling your life with material things, but it gives you options that being penniless doesn’t. You once told me that you felt the same way.”

“I probably did,” I admitted.

His computer chimed and drew his attention away.

“So what am I going for now?”

He looked at me from over the monitor, his hazel eyes sparkling. “Do you really want to know?”

I shrugged.

“Fifteen.”

“That’s brilliant. You might walk away with twenty grand.”

Houdini erupted with laughter, and it was so affectionate and genuine that it was hard to see anything evil in him. “Fifteen million, Raven. Not thousand. I’m a professional; I don’t deal with low numbers. The second bidder is the one that’s pushing the numbers high.”

I leaned forward. “He doesn’t have that kind of money.”

“You’d be surprised how much a Vampire can accumulate in his lifetime. If I’m not mistaken, your Christian Poe has done some rather sketchy jobs in his past that paid well. Fifteen million is an honor. Most girls don’t even get a quarter of that for the final offer.”

I launched to my feet and turned my back on him so he couldn’t read my expression.

Damn, you Christian. Why are you bidding everything?

His entire life fortune was spiraling down the toilet, all for a girl who’d never even told him she loved him. If he won me back, I’d never be able to face him. Every argument would give him an opportunity to throw in my face that he’d wasted millions on an ungrateful lover. And what if he always held it over my head? I could only imagine the conversation…

“Not tonight. I’m not in the mood.”

“I spent fifteen million to set you free. You better get in the mood.”

Whatever future we might have had together would be undone by this.

Was Houdini right about choices? Bad ones leading to good things and good ones leading to bad? The worst moments of my life had led me to Keystone and ultimately into Christian’s arms. Now faced with the prospect of him winning me back, I suddenly wanted nothing more than for him to lose.



“How much time left?” Christian asked, pacing the floor.

“Five minutes and twenty-two seconds,” Wyatt replied, his forehead glistening with sweat.

You could cut the tension with a knife. Without a window, he’d lost sense of time. It was as if they’d been living in that room for years. No one had left in the past five hours—not even to eat dinner.

Christian flattened his palms on the desk, struggling to contain his rage so he wouldn’t break something else. “Keep your fingers on the keys. He will not get the last bid.”

“Blast! He did it again. The seller upped the minimum bid.”

Viktor appeared on Wyatt’s left. “What is it now?”

“Fifty thousand. I need everyone to shut their piehole while I concentrate.”

Christian had expected the other bidder to fall out, but he was putting down high numbers—enough to make everyone nervous. They could only hope it was a phantom account by the seller to get more money, but what if it wasn’t? Viktor had dark circles under his eyes. The rest of them had taken long naps here and there, but even Wyatt was running on fumes.

When Wyatt looked up at him, Christian could see all the little blood vessels in his eyes. “Now?”

“Not yet.”

“What are they talking about?” Claude asked in a hushed voice.

Shepherd cleared his throat. “Christian wants to drop a large number at the end so the other guy will back off. We still have… another three minutes.”

“I can’t take this!” Gem exclaimed. “I’m about to lose all my hair.” Her voice grew distant as she darted down the hall, but Christian could hear her quiet sobs.

Each passing minute brought a new level of torture. Every sound in the room amplified. The biting of a fingernail, tapping of a foot, a gurgling stomach—all slowly ebbing away his sanity.

Christian studied the activity on the monitor, and as soon as a low bid came in, he said, “Do it.”

Wyatt entered in a large number, and with a single keystroke gave up the last bit of Christian’s savings.

They waited for the number to calculate to the current bid, but nothing happened. Suddenly a response appeared.

Your offer has been denied. Thank you for bidding.





“What does that mean? What the feck does that mean!” he roared.

Wyatt had begun typing in the feedback window when the post suddenly vanished, taking them back to the main screen. The blood drained from his face as he frantically scrolled up and down the auction list before hitting the refresh button.

“What the fuck is going on?” Shepherd demanded to know.

Wyatt kicked back his chair and stood up. “I don’t know. We still had time.”

Shepherd’s lips thinned. “He outbid you?”

Flustered, Wyatt answered, still staring at his laptop. “No! That’s what I’m trying to say. He didn’t even accept our offer. Something’s not right. Why would anyone in their right mind end the auction after seeing the amount we just put up?” Wyatt suddenly sat in his chair and buried his face in his hands. “I think I’m going to throw up.”