You Can't Fight Desire

She was back in the Romanian slave auction house, waiting in the damp, tiny garage prepared by Micah again.
Chained to the wall by heavy, silver shackles... again.
She was so tired of being here. She hated it with all her heart. It had brought her nothing but pain and horror since she'd been forced into the power of the stupid, bloodsucking vampire, Micah, three years before.
And now, many masters and mistresses later, here she sat, chained like a dog, waiting for the horrible stench of decaying flesh to waft toward her in waves. That's how she knew the zombie-like creatures were ordered by Micah to summon her.
That's how she knew she'd be placed back on that dank stage, hearing her information and past bellowed out of the microphone, and sooner rather than later, she'd be placed into the hands of a more powerful immortal being.
“My dear Bella, I'm afraid it's time for you to accompany me on the stage,” she heard Micah voice, a minute before he actually entered the damp room, regarding her with sick, twisted amusement. “Can I remove your chains or will you attempt to fry me to a crisp once more?”
A smile of triumph found it's way to her lips as she shifted uncomfortably on the hard wood floor. “I might, and I might not. I guess you're just going to have to risk it, vamp.”
He took three swift steps toward her, a low growl forming in his throat before he gently grabbed her throat in his right hand, moving his dark brown hair out of his eyes with the other.
“I guess we're leaving them on, then,” he smirked.
She cursed inwardly. She hated being so defenseless against this man. Silver was the only thing that could keep her like this.
And in these rags. Damn but she hated this crap they called clothes. In her mind, clothes weren't potato-sack-like cloths tossed over your intimate places, but rather designer-made satin dresses that ran all the way down to her ankles with a feather-light touch.
She was forcefully led out of the horrible cellar and onto the dark stage before she was being chained to the floor with ease. Damn damn and double damn.
She sucked in a deep breath as she regarded all the people – or rather immortals – surrounding the tiny stage. There had to be at least a couple dozen.
As Micah finished chaining her to the post on the stage, he returned to the podium with a proud smile coming to his lips as he saw the many, many people crowded around him to get a look at his new prizes.
They all looked overly-eager to have his Belladonna in their grasp. No matter what the cost. And that was the way he liked it.
“Ladies and gentlemen, demons and vampires, lovers and haters, I'm presenting you with my most prized possession, which is why I saved her for last,” he began, already knowing he was going to have to make this a long, drawn-out, interesting speech.
“Her name is Belladonna Moretz, no middle name. She is, indeed, a very powerful vampire, but not powerful enough to overpower me, or frankly, any high-ranked immortal. She has her uses, though. Bella's blood has an exquisite taste which any immortal would love to have. Over and over, and over again,” he continued without missing a beat. He watched in silent awe for a moment as his listeners' eyes widened with longing.
His smile widened. “My dear Bella is a fighter. She hates commands and will struggle against you. But that's the thing, there's nothing that makes anything more interesting than a little struggle. It's quite amusing.”
“She is accustomed to being beaten, though I can tell she despises it. She's weak sometimes and we all know it. She was from a small town in New York, but now, gladly – for us anyway – she remains here in the small town of Brasov. She looks to be about twenty or so, though she has lived for a very long while, courtesy of being an immortal.” He paused to let it all sink in, before his smile became more noticeable. “Now, shall I continue or do we have a starting bid?”
“A thousand!”
Bella groaned lowly, before resting her head against the post she was tied to. She was just going to have to wait it out.
“Two thousand!”
“Three thousand!”
“Seventeen thousand!”
“One hundred thousand!”
“Nine hundred thousand!”
Oh bloody hell, I'm worth more than that, Bella thought, suppressing the coming laughter.
“Three hundred million,” a male voiced, low and steady.
Her breath caught as she opened her eyes, trying to find the person who would want her that much.
To her surprise, she found no one.
“Going once,” Micah's voice boomed. “Twice.” Get on with it. “Sold!” he boomed, looking more happy than ever.
Sure, you would be. Sick bastard, she thought.
“Step forward, offer us your name,” Micah ordered.
Bella's eyes kept searching, but nothing came. It was then and only then she felt the searing heat of power wash over her, making her shiver in fear.
Please don't be the one who bought me, please don't be the one who bought me, she chanted in her head.
She hoped to God that he wasn't the one. Oh, God no. He would be able to do anything and everything to her and she would not be able to do a damn thing about it. She knew this already. She could sense it when she felt his power.
Power that for sure made even the highest ranked immortals cower and bow down in overwhelming fear.