Page 10 of Prince of Demons (Demon’s Mark #2)
Georgia
T he demon didn’t take them back to the refurbished casino where she'd first met him. Instead, he drove the roaring motorcycle through the early morning traffic toward a part of town she’d never been to before—a choice she’d made entirely on purpose.
Broken down old buildings shielded them from the pale sun’s first rays, the stench of decay clinging to her skin when the prince kicked the bike to a stop.
Georgia released his waist the second it was safe to do so. As thankful as she’d been that he’d healed Larry, his growled threat as he pulled her from the room still echoed in her mind as a sharp reminder of what, exactly, her brother’s savior was.
She cast a nervous look around at the bleak location. A figure sat huddled by a scratched doorway on their left, but otherwise there was no sign of life. “Where are we?”
The demon grunted but didn’t answer, swinging off the bike and pulling her with him in the process. With a firm grasp on her arm, he started walking toward the door.
“W-what are you going to do with me?” she asked, fear prickling at her spine.
The last time a demon had dragged her to a deserted-looking building, it’d been with the purpose of forcing her into prostitution.
While Irral’s comments had made it seem like this demon prince wouldn’t want the same fate for her, she wasn’t stupid.
They called her a Breeder—there were only so many ways this could end up for her.
Once more, the giant monster by her side didn’t answer her question, and she tried her best to not panic as he dragged her down a dingy hallway to a dimly lit staircase. She’d agreed to this, and he’d held up his end of the bargain. Larry was well. He’d have a good life.
Whatever the prince had planned for her, hopefully it would be marginally better than what her fate would have been if Jimmy the Pimp had been the one to fulfill her contract.
The staircase was littered with old fast-food wrappers, syringes, and all manner of dirt and grime of questionable origin. Blood and excrement smeared the walls, making Georgia gag as they climbed the stairs.
At the top, the demon turned left and opened a door to a restroom in an even worse state than the stairwell. He pulled her inside, and she had to clasp a hand to her mouth and nose to avoid dry-heaving at the stench.
On the filthy floor lay two sleeping people.
Or perhaps they were passed out. A syringe stuck out between the guy’s toes, and what looked like a crack pipe dangled from the woman’s fingers.
She was smiling, though the only sign that she was still alive was the faint up and down movements of her chest.
Georgia’s stomach clenched tight at the sight of them. Whatever had happened to these two that the only place they could find happiness was in this hellhole, she wished with all she was that she could take it away. Help them somehow.
The demon closed the door shut behind them and finally released his grip on her arm, turning to the man on the floor.
With a snarl of disgust on his terrifying features, he plucked the syringe from the man's foot and lifted him up by the scruff of his neck, dangling him in front of his face.
Eying him as if he were a piece of meat.
Sick dread rose as bile in Georgia’s throat. They weren’t here to help these two, that much was obvious.
“What are you going to do to him?” she croaked. “Please, don’t… don’t hurt him.”
The monster didn’t so much as turn to look at her. With his free hand, he grabbed the man’s head and squeezed.
The crack as his skull broke sent Georgia forward with a lurch, bile spilling from her lips as she coughed and gagged.
It was a mercy, really, because she didn’t see what he did with the freed brain matter after that.
The comments about Lewin’s dietary habits were too fresh in her mind for even an ounce of morbid curiosity to make it through the horror.
She dry-heaved until the body of the now dead man, with scars so deep they’d driven him to this place, landed on the floor in front of her with a thunk. Through streams of tears, she saw the demon step over his limp corpse, moving toward the still comatose woman.
It was only the sickening knowledge of what he intended to do next that gave her the strength to stagger forward and throw herself over the woman’s prone body.
“No! Don’t!” Her voice was hoarse and harrowed, still raw from throwing up bile and the sheer terror shaking her body.
It took all her strength to turn and look up at the frightening monster looming over them.
His already horrifying features were pulled into a silent snarl at her interference. Dark liquid glistened on his lips.
“Move, Breeder.” The command was quiet. A dark warning.
“Please. Please don’t hurt her,” Georgia whispered. “Please, oh God, you can’t… please!”
His eyes narrowed. “I can’t?”
She swallowed thickly, realizing the challenge he took from her words. And that she wouldn’t win a battle of wills. Not with this beast. “Please.”
The demon huffed a sigh—an irritated sound, but it gave her a surge of hope. He could have easily removed her and murdered this helpless woman if he wanted to, no matter how much Georgia protested. But so far, he hadn’t.
“Your brother took a lot of my power. I need to refill. If not from this useless pile of flesh, then who, little Breeder?” He stared at her, the darkness of his eyes making her shiver as she clung to the passed-out woman underneath her.
“Who would you like me to take the energy I need from? Give me a name. Who deserves to live less than this pitiful stain on humanity?”
Georgia breathed shallowly as the horror curdled in her stomach and turned inward.
It hadn’t so much as crossed her mind before—that there would be a cost to what she’d asked of him, beyond their agreement.
That his power didn’t come from nothing, that it would need replenishment. And that for a demon, that meant… this.
The challenge in his inhuman black eyes was clear.
Someone was going to give him what he needed, and she had gotten in the way of his feeding.
He knew she couldn’t name someone to die.
He likely read it on her soul as she huddled over this nameless woman whom no one would ever miss, if she just let him take what he wanted.
There was no winning, not with him. She felt it in the pit of her stomach as he stared her down, challenging her to either give up the woman she was currently protecting or naming someone more deserving of dying.
She was the reason he was here. She’d made the bargain with him, she was why he needed to refill.
“Me,” she said softly. “Take your energy from me.”
His brow ridges arched high on his scaly forehead, arms crossing over his massive chest. “You? Are you so much of a martyr that you’ll throw your life away for anyone you stumble across? First your brother, and now this wretch?”
Georgia forced her throat to swallow the lump lodged there.
She was gambling with true darkness; she understood that much as she stared into the voids of his eyes.
Perhaps it was everything she’d already seen today, perhaps it was sheer exhaustion, or a full psychotic break, but she knew the only way to save this woman was to bank on the fact the prince seemed to want her not-dead. For now.
“You can take energy without killing. Right?” She remembered Jimmy’s words about how demons went about obtaining human life force. How it could be done in so many horrible ways.
And how, for women, there was one universally preferred source.
She forced herself to remain silent as she waited for his answer. Rape at his hands would unquestionably lead to mutilation and death—he was just too big for any other outcome from a violent encounter.
But he wanted her alive. However he went about taking what he needed from her, she’d be better off than the poor woman in here with them. She clung to that thought as she stared up at the huge beast.
The horned monster drew in a deep breath as he stared down at her, seemingly evaluating her offer. Then he nodded once, but the dark look in those void-like eyes had her skin break into goosebumps. “If you are so determined to sacrifice yourself, fine. Stand.”
He watched her impassively as she scrambled to get up from her prone position, arms never leaving his chest. Once she was on her feet, he nodded toward the door. “Move.”
Shakily, she obeyed, feeling his looming presence behind her like a stalking beast as they made their way down the filthy stairs, out the door and all the way to his bike.
Only then did he move from behind her, straddling the vehicle before he turned to look at her over his shoulder. “On.”
“Where are you taking me?” she asked, though she did as she was told, not wanting him to change his mind and return to the building and the unconscious woman in that awful bathroom.
“Home.” Without another word, he kicked the bike into gear, the engine roaring to life between her thighs.
Georgia clung to his leather clad waist as he drove them through the city, the aching pulse in her heart reminding her that she would likely never see anything she could call home ever again.