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***Leah's POV***

My eyes move slowly to reveal the dark walls that surround me. The cool air bites at my bones. I feel naked, exposed.

My heart beat slowly reacts to the scene around me. The smell of foul, offensive body excretions reminds me of many days I would sooner forget. Cutting off my senses, I place my hand over my nose and mouth to circumvent the aroma from infiltrating my oxygen source any further.

My human legs push against the small surface area that is not covered in bodily waste. I move infinitesimally backwards, scooting myself against the corner of the cell. Scanning the my housing  from floor to ceiling, a small cry escapes my lips.

The recollections of how I got here, why I am in this grotesque situation, they replay in my mind. Ryder caught me. He poisoned me.

Uncomfortable in my human form, I try to shift back into my feline state. It takes seconds to realize that I will not be walking on four paws any time in the near future.

Groaning, I push my head against the cement wall. My hands navigate to the top of my head. A sticky substance meets my fingertips. The fear of what exactly I have in my hair makes my stomach flinch.

"Glad to see you lived." His voice is condescending. I doubt he means glad, more like disappointed.

I open my mouth to project my disdain onto Ryder. However, no words come from lips. My voice catches in my throat. Fucking chrysanthemum.

"The sound of silence. That's my favorite sound coming from you Leah." A chuckle leaves Ryder's obnoxious mouth. I wish he would choke on it.

"I have mulled over what it is exactly that I want from you. To be honest, nothing. You are worthless to me if you will not willingly rule beside me. You have been out for two days. In that time I came to a conclusion. I have no use for you whatsoever. I thought maybe I would torture you until you begged for death. While watching you writhe in pain, soiling yourself and the entire floor, I grew bored. Now, I'm at a complete loss." Ryder speaks with a tone of complete boredom, as if my existence is a thorn in his side altogether.

Being unable to speak, I do the only thing available to me. I groan with a roll of my eyes.

"That. It's that attitude that I have no use for. You should be grateful I haven't slaughtered you or sold you." Ryder stands to leave. I need him here. I need him to think that I loathe the idea of being sold. He wouldn't kill me. He has never once ended a female's life. I don't believe my death would be the first to tarnish his 'chivalrous' persona.

If he sells me back to the auction house, I can escape once again. That is easy.

Horning in on my theatrics, I decide to play the part to hopefully persuade Ryder into doing what I want. It's a long shot. Reverse psychology rarely works. Although, Ryder wouldn't be considered the brightest crayon in the box if it was full with purely onyx crayons.

I groan at the thought of being sold. I will my eyes to fill with tears, covering my whimpers with shaky hands for dramatic effect.

"What's this? Does sweet, conniving Leah not want to be sold?" A dark laugh fills the cell within moments. Ryder's eyes twinkle with mischief.

I shake my head side to side, allowing my eyes to plead with my captor.

"Very well, tomorrow at eight am sharp, you will be once again on the auction block. Be a good girl and don't cause your next owner too much trouble." Ryder turns his back, walking towards the door to my cage.

Throwing his chin over his shoulder, a rueful smile lights his face. "On second thought."

My eyes widen in fear, not that he will sell me, but that he will choose instead to keep me captive.

"Give them hell. I would much prefer to believe that your malice is not just towards me but, anyone whom would be able to tame you." Without another word Ryder exits the door, slamming the latch shut with unnecessary force.

After his footsteps fade away, I relax into the corner to take my first real breath.

Now, a plan of escape. This small town has only one auction house for supernaturals. I have stood in the same place, ready for bidding, on too many occasions to count. My parents had, or have, no qualms with selling me. Therefore, I know the easiest routes of escape with intimate knowledge.

Mapping each corridor, exit and window, I formulate scenarios. Making alternative plans for any mishaps, I find myself confident that I will not be a prisoner for long at all.

A silent smile graces my face with the thought of being free once again. This time, I will not stick around waiting to become another chip in my parents pocket. I will escape, running as far away as possible.

As the idea of leaving the city, town and country alights my insides with joy, my heart chooses to remember a forgotten detail.

Christian.

Will it hurt when I reject him? I do not wish to bring harm on the man. He seems gentle enough. In another life, we may even have been able to make a go of this beloved/mate thing. Sadly, I am not worth the trouble he would surely go through to pursue me.

I am damaged merchandise, literally. Christian deserves better. Yes. I would be doing him a disservice if I choose to allow him to woo me into a relationship.

As it stands, I am incapable of love. The feeling has been snuffed out by years of abandonment.

It's a shame, our parents actions create such concrete paths from the damage they inflict.

Sighing deeply to myself, I wonder what could have been had I had a decent start to this treacherous life.

No use in worrying with the what if's, maybes and what could have beens.

Life is nothing short of devastation.

Rubbing the area above my heart, I push the thoughts of happily ever after from my mind. Dreams are meant for sleeping. Reality is much less alluring.

Speaking, or thinking since I can't fucking talk, of sleep, I curl into myself. My eyes are heavy. The after effects of the poison have me drained. I yawn largely before closing my eyes.

"Love, I told you I would get that. Rest. You are tired." His piercing blue eyes chastise me gently.

"I am pregnant not paralyzed Mr. Draven." My eyes roll playfully. His fingertips reach for my cheek. I curl into his tender touch, relishing in the way his adoration seeps through my skin and touches my soul.

"Mrs. Draven, you are stunning. Perfection personified. How did I find myself so lucky?" Christian pulls my face forward; his lips taste my own. I hum in approval at his affection.

"Luck had little to do with it, Christian. You saw something you wanted. You did not stop until it was yours." I push his jaw softly. A chuckle slips from his lips while a giggle passes through mine.

"If I had to fight a thousand years to get to you, I would have. You are worth it Leah Draven. You have always been worthy to be fought for." Christian stands, parting from me on his sweet words.

My heart flutters as he escapes towards the door.

My hand slides down my stomach, pressing against the kicking child that will soon bless us with his presence. A lullaby forms as I rock forward, backward; my lips quietly sing the tune to my sweet baby.

A thousand years he would fight, for me. It is I who is lucky that my dear Christian felt me worthy of his love.

My sweet dream is interrupted as I am lifted to my feet. A large hand clamps around my non-existent bicep. I stare at the guard with murderous eyes.

It is unnecessary to man handle me. He does not know that, though. This was my idea. I was planning on willingly complying. Now, I really want to use my claws to make shish kabobs of his eyeballs.

Letting the idea pass as quickly as it came, I decide not to create a scene. Yeah, that's a first for me. The dragging of my body is a means to end.

The sooner they get me to the auction house, the faster I am free.

With freedom in my sight, I lay limply in the arms of the guard. I allow the maids to bathe me, drench me in ungodly sweet perfume and make me presentable.

Ryder escorts me on the drive to be sold. I neither care to, nor am capable of speaking with the wretched beast. Thank god for small favors. Thanks for coming through in the clutch, for once.

I roll my eyes at my thoughts.

"You're going to bring me a sizable profit. If I was a generous man, I would split it with your parents. However, since you have been a bane in my side, we will call it even." Ryder speaks as if I am interested in a thing he has to say.

I send him a sly smirk. I can't talk, so it's not like I will have to justify my actions.

The rest of the ride is filled with the King of the Jungle regaling me with his best qualities, via his boastful stories to the driver.

I block out as much as so can. A person can only handle so much bullshit before they physically gag. I have clutched my stomach on several occasions already.

My particular favorite was a play by play of his many, many, many sexual escapades.

I wish the ride to town was much shorter.

Once we finally reach our destination, I stretch quickly before being hauled off to the back door for merchandise processing. If I was not in desperate need to be merchandise, I would give the honor of telling you exactly how I feel about these auctions that trade human beings/ supernatural creatures as if they were antiques.

As it stands, this particular barbaric practice comes in handy for my own devious plans.

After the check in process, we are all lined up according to our species and category. I know the drill so I have no issues following suit.

As the auctioneer begins his introduction of the first person u for purchase, I slide my eyes left and right to access the quickest route of escape.

Ryder must have thought I had a plan in play. I see his personal guards blocking the major avenues that I had decided to use first.

With every exit in this room inaccessible, I will need to wait until I am called to the stage. It's a small blip in my plan. Yet, it is nothing that I had not already factored.

Number after number is called before my time to shine finally rolls around. I gracefully enter from the right of the stage. Scanning the crowd, one particular pair of blue eyes catches my interest.

Christian stands at the back of the room, all authority.

I know he is not here to bid, therefore he must have a reason to be in such a trashy place.

I lower my head, as I have learned over the years, to keep my face hidden from the suitors.

The auction house announcer introduces me with pleasant compliments that are not at all truthful. Things like sweet, kind and submissive fall from his traitorous tongue. I do my best to keep my eyes trained in the ground instead of letting them do revolutions that will come off as an attitude.

When the auctioneer finally shuts the fuck up, the bidding begins. I take in large numbers quickly. The face of the owner becomes smug as he pushes his finger towards the crowd, pointing out each individual who so callously offers a purse for my company.

The shouts of currency become hushed when a solid bid takes down every hand. My eyes widen; my mouth falls open; if I could speak I do not think I would know what to say.

"Sold to Christian Draven for 350,000 dollars."