The Billionaire's Secret Blood Sacrifice Bride

Cora stumbled into the women's restroom and slammed the heavy wooden door shut. She rushed to the marble sink, turned on the cold water, and splashed it violently onto her pale face.

She gripped the edge of the sink, staring at her bloodshot eyes in the mirror. Her chest heaved as she dragged air into her lungs.

After a minute, she grabbed a paper towel, dried her face, and pushed the door open to leave.

The hallway outside was dimly lit by antique wall sconces. She kept her head down, smoothing the silk of her dress, when she slammed hard into a solid chest.

A sharp scent hit her nose-a harsh mix of medical bleach and cheap tobacco.

Cora gasped and stumbled backward. A strong hand shot out, gripping her elbow firmly to keep her from falling.

She snapped her head up and locked eyes with a pair of amber irises. The man was staring down at her with a cynical, mocking smirk. It was Cayden Logan.

He was wearing a black velvet suit jacket, completely unbuttoned, looking entirely out of place in the formal, rigid environment of the gala.

He let out a low whistle, his eyes raking over her expensive gown with blatant disrespect.

Cora felt her skin crawl. She yanked her arm out of his grip. "Thank you," she said coldly, stepping to the side to walk past him.

Cayden shifted his weight, intentionally blocking her path. The smirk on his face deepened.

He leaned down, his mouth hovering just inches from her ear. "That dress looks expensive," he whispered. "It looks exactly like a very high-end body bag."

Cora's eyes went wide. She shoved his chest hard. "Excuse me? You are completely out of your mind."

Cayden didn't move. He chuckled, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a silver Zippo lighter. He flipped it open and shut, the metallic clack echoing in the quiet hallway.

His eyes suddenly lost their humor. He looked at her with the cold, clinical assessment of a doctor.

"Look at your nail beds, Cora. Look at the pallor of your skin," Cayden said, his voice dropping an octave, his amber eyes piercing right through her defenses. "Kendrick isn't raising a wife. He's curating a very rare, very fragile medical specimen. Look at what he feeds you. You're not his partner, sweetheart. You're his personal pharmacy."

The words medical specimen hit her like a physical blow to the stomach. A violent shudder ripped through her spine. The image of the needle piercing her vein that morning flashed behind her eyes, followed by the metallic taste of the neon-green supplement. Her mind raced, desperately trying to connect the dots. Pharmacy? Is he harvesting my blood? My plasma?

All the color drained from Cora's face. Her knees went weak. She pressed her back against the wall, her teeth biting down so hard on her lip she tasted copper. She refused to scream.

Cayden watched her panic. A flicker of something complex-something like regret-flashed in his amber eyes, but he instantly buried it under his arrogant smirk.

The heavy thud of combat boots echoed from the end of the hallway. Kendrick's security detail was coming for her.

Cayden moved with lightning speed. He reached out and slipped a stiff, black business card deep into the hidden pocket of her silk gown.

He immediately stepped back, creating a massive gap between them. He raised his voice, adopting a sleazy, drunken tone. "I must say, Mrs. Pope, your perfume is absolutely intoxicating."

Two massive men in black suits rounded the corner. Their eyes locked onto Cayden, their hands instinctively dropping to their holstered weapons. They stepped in front of Cora, shielding her.

"Identify yourself," the lead guard barked.

Cayden raised both hands in the air, a lazy smile on his face. "Relax, boys. Just a lost doctor trying to find the bar."

He gave Cora one last, piercing look, then turned and sauntered down the stairs, disappearing into the shadows.

The guard turned to Cora, his face completely devoid of emotion. "Mr. Pope is waiting, madam. He is getting anxious."

Cora reached down, her fingers gripping the sharp edges of the black card hidden in her pocket. Her palm was slick with cold sweat.

She took a deep breath, pasted the perfect, blank smile back onto her face, and followed the guards back into the blinding lights of the grand hall.

Kendrick was standing by the bar. The moment he saw her, his dark eyes scanned her body like a spotlight, searching for any sign of damage.

Cora walked up to him, forcing herself to hold his gaze, while her heart hammered violently against her ribs.