Page 12 of Prince of Demons (Demon’s Mark #2)

She didn’t look at him—just flattened her lips and picked up another slice of salmon.

“One more. And some of the… green stuff.” He pointed at the vegetation scattered around the tray of salmon.

Out of all the variations of human food, plants seemed the least appealing to him.

There was no blood and no killing involved, which made it even more uninteresting than whatever else her kind used to fill their bellies.

However, he had a vague sense that it was necessary for their survival.

Something-something crop-failures and starvation.

Georgia shot him a look out the corner of her eyes before she reached for the feathery foliage and a brightly colored slice of citrus. “Is it okay now?”

“It’ll do.”

She gave him another side-glance before carefully biting into the roll. He wasn’t prepared for the suction in his gut when her eyelids fluttered shut and an involuntary moan of pleasure brushed past the mouthful of food.

Stars above. Kesh clutched at the edge of the countertop, his eyes trained on the Breeder’s pink lips as she chewed and swallowed. Energy pulsed at the base of his spine, the urge to lick butter off the corner of her mouth as intense as it was bewildering.

“Again.” The gruffness in his voice wasn’t from anger this time, but Georgia jumped at the sound of it, her muscles twitching before she took another bite.

She didn’t moan with pleasure at the taste like before, not that it did anything to stop the throbbing in his cock at the sight of her taking in nourishment. Nourishment he’d provided.

When she finished the roll, he didn’t wait for her to choose her next piece. He picked up three oysters, two slices of beef, and several pieces of cheese and put them on her plate. “Eat.”

She bit her lip, blunt teeth digging into the pillowy flesh for a hesitant second before she picked up one of the caviar-covered shells.

He nearly came when her tongue darted out to lick up the insides and a small hum escaped her at the taste of it.

Kesh didn’t let her finish what was on her plate this time—he chose bits and pieces from the spread and put them in front of her, his own hunger inflaming his desire to keep feeding the Breeder under his care.

But some forty minutes later, when she was halfway through a large slice of chocolate cake, and before she’d even tasted the deep-red cherries atop it, Georgia put down her fork with a groan.

“You stopped,” he said, the note of warning in his voice making the woman flinch.

“I’m full.”

“You’re not done.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “You will eat what I have provided.”

Her eyes darted over the still mostly full platters of food in front of them, widening slightly. “You want me to eat all of…?” She barked a sharp sound—a laugh with more than an edge of hysteria. “Feeding me until I rupture was so not the way I thought you’d kill me.”

“I’m not going to harm you,” he growled, as irritated that he had to repeat himself on the matter as he was that it was true. If simply killing her had been an option, it would have been a far simpler solution to the problem her presence presented. “I’m nourishing you. So eat.”

The Breeder hid her face in her hands. She drew in a few shaky breaths and rubbed her fingertips against her forehead. “I’m full. If you force me to eat anymore, I’m going to be sick. Unless you plan on going full Seven , you have to let me stop.”

Kesh bared his teeth, frustration nearly drowning out the single note of worry at that word.

Feeding her too much could make her sick?

Why was that even a thing? A demon could be sated, sure, but sick from consuming too much nourishment?

No. If they were this fragile, how humans had managed to overpopulate the planet was a fucking mystery.

“Fine.” It came out as a snarl he almost regretted when the Breeder jumped in response, and her already fear-heavy scent spiked in his nostrils. “Come.”

Georgia hesitated for several seconds, but when he held out an arm and gave her a pointed look, she seemed to finally remember the consequences of disobedience. She followed him out of the room without a word.

For a demon prince, Kesh didn’t have many indulgences.

As the lord of his area, he had his pick of hunting grounds, and the taxes his not-so-loyal subjects paid for his patronage afforded him enough wealth to rival the deep coffers of European nobility.

He’d never seen much appeal in hunting for sport, nor in most of the human luxuries his riches could buy. Except for maybe one thing.

His bedroom was large but sparsely decorated, because the focus of the room was the floor-to-ceiling wall of windows offering an undisturbed view of the city’s rooftops and the large expanse of the sky above. And in front of it, a large copper tub stood on a dais cut from white marble.

Sefron had set it up as requested and added several sprinkles of pink rose petals and a circle of candles that had long since burned down.

Kesh smothered an eyeroll and crossed the floor to dip a finger into the tub. Cold. Great. Just another wonderful consequence of being forced to take a several-hours detour to that cursed hospital.

He eyed the Breeder, who seemed too transfixed by his large bed to notice his attention, and weighed his options.

She smelled like sweat and fear and hospital—scents he usually didn’t mind in a meal—but on her, it was messing with his stupid instincts to the point that he might start fucking cooing at her again at any moment.

However, his energy was so low, he didn’t know how much longer he could hold out without eating, and he still wasn’t entirely sure how he’d go about extracting energy from her without permanently harming her.

He’d more or less decided on feeding off her negative emotions—something he knew would barely do as a snack on the best of days—and if he waited for as long as it’d take to refill the large tub and bathe the woman, he wouldn’t be able to guarantee that he’d be able to stop in time.

Fuck. He’d just have to count himself lucky that if he did end up cooing like a moron, none of his underlings were around to witness it.

Kesh drew in a deep breath, steeling his resolve before he turned fully around to face the Breeder, mouth partway open to tell her she’d have to wait until after he fed to get clean. Only no sound managed to escape his suddenly desert-dry throat.

On the crisp linen sheets covering his large bed lay a dirty, crumbled shirt and a plain cotton bra, both of which had been covering the Breeder only moments ago.

Now, though, she was bare from the waist up, peachy pink nipples tight in the cool air of his bedroom and creamy skin glowing in the sun shining through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

What…. the shit?

Before he managed more than a grunt of surprise, Georgia hooked her thumbs in her trousers and pushed, letting the fabric drop to the floor.

There wasn’t a power in the universe great enough to force his gaze from the magnetic pull of that hallowed triangle of dark hair between her tightly clasped thighs.

“Okay.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper. “I’m… I’m ready.”