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less than two minutes, and a human cannot do anything about it?” She traced her fingers over his shoulders, circling him again. “When a Vampire feeds, it causes a euphoric effect so enticing that the human is completely helpless. I’d drain you while you begged me to take more.”
    She leaned over his shoulder and spoke into his ear. “Only too late you realize that your heart is slowing, and breathing becomes so difficult that you can no longer speak. Your diaphragm tightens to an excruciating cramp and your lungs fail. Then your head begins to pound as the blood drains from it. At that point, you’ll no longer want me to feed from you. You’ll be begging, silently, for me to stop, but you’ll no longer have speech capabilities, nor will you be able to move. You’ll lie still, but fully aware, as I drink from you, with nothing but the thoughts of your death running through your mind. Then, after what seems like eternity, darkness will creep into view. Growing larger and larger until you’re granted a final breath, with which you beg me to turn you. I won’t of course, because you’re not worthy to be anything more than the food you were born.”
    She came full circle to stare at him again. The smile and the blood had drained from his face. “And that would only be the first time. Every day as a blood slave, you would experience that.”
    What she’d told him wasn’t exactly true; slaves were fed on once a week, and rarely to the brink of death. But he didn’t know that. Her fangs extended, there was no hiding it. The thought of being the first to take the arrogant bastard’s blood was almost enough to throw her bloodlust over the brink. She stared at him until he dropped his gaze.
    Satisfied, she turned from him and strode out of the cell, noticing the very pleased smile on Clive’s face. The cells, which had been quiet before, were now silent. Every human gaze landed on her heavily. Unfortunately, she’d probably scared them all to tears with her words.
    A single cell remained, and she was tempted to turn and leave. To tell Clive she’d bid on Whitey and be done with the whole thing. But something pulled her toward the last cell. A scent hit her with force.
    A huge male sat on the floor in the corner. He stared at her as she came into view. He didn’t stand; he didn’t move a muscle. She had to keep herself from sucking in a breath at the sight of him. He had dark brown hair and piercing amber eyes. His skin was golden and tan. His heavy bone structure and Roman nose reminded her of a picture she’d seen of the Greek god of war, Ares. It made her fangs ache to bite into him and taste his blood. Gripping the bars of his cell, she steadied herself.
    “Stand up and present yourself,” Clive ordered.
    He didn’t move.
    She looked down at the nameplate: “Mason.” Her senses went into overdrive as she studied him. The set of his clenched muscles told her that he was defiant, but she also saw fear in his golden eyes. It intrigued her.
    “Stand!” Clive shouted, his voice rising.
    Mason still didn’t move. Her body cried out for her to take him. It confused her. She’d never been drawn to a male before in such a way, especially not a human male. It was primal at the very essence of her being.
    The way he sat, his posture, straight and strong, he didn’t look like a slave, or smell like a slave. Something was different about him and she wracked her brain to see if she recognized him from before the outbreak. A star athlete? A movie star maybe? Neither fit his demeanor. He was surrounded by an air of royalty. It took all of her strength to resist forcing Clive to give Mason to her on the spot. Clive shouted out again, drawing a small remote from his pocket.
    “This is your last warning and then I’ll send a shock through your body the likes of which you’ve never felt!” Clive lifted the remote and pointed it into the cell.
    “Wait.” Danika put her hand on Clive’s arm. “Open the