Page 17 of Prince of Demons (Demon’s Mark #2)

Kesh

H e’d had every intention of finishing the drying of the near-unconscious woman and getting her fed. Really, he had. Even as his cock throbbed and the sweet scent of her sacred core made it hard to think about anything other than how she’d cried out in pleasure when he brought her to climax before.

Ensuring her survival was his primary duty, after all.

However, there was no force in the fucking universe strong enough to break through the roar in his blood when the meek little Breeder growled at being separated from his touch and then used his horns to guide his face right into her pussy for more.

Her smell enveloped him, musky and strong and full of need. The world faded to black, until there was nothing left but the scent of her, and the pounding of his own pulse setting every cell in his preternatural body aflame.

He didn’t hear his own snarl, didn’t register her yelp when he sucked her clit into his mouth, ring and all.

He was barely aware of wrapping his arms around her when she swayed under the onslaught, didn’t feel the hard tiles under his knees as he half pushed, half carried her to the countertop next to the sink.

His entire being was focused on the smell of her pussy, on the mind-breaking taste of it.

Her cries of pleasure rang through his body like a bell, honing his mouth to the exact way she needed it, until her grip on his horns turned savage and her thighs tightened around the sides of his neck in a vice.

“Yes, yes, yes! Fuck!” She arched off the counter with a snarl that sounded anything but human. Her climax followed on a flood of her intoxicating flavor, and he groaned at the prickle of her energy teasing his tastebuds.

She offered her life essence so willingly, as if it were not the most precious thing she possessed. Kesh licked at her still trembling entrance and rubbed his nose against her clit while she slowly came down, ensuring he didn’t take so much as a drop of her energy.

Finally, some long moments later, her thighs relaxed around his neck and her hands slipped off his horns.

Slowly, he regained awareness of their surroundings. And of his responsibilities.

Shit. Dread coiled in his gut, and though it did nothing to ease his throbbing cock, it did allow his brain a modicum of control.

He pulled away from the Breeder’s tantalizing little pussy and eased her legs off his shoulders so he could rise to his feet and survey the damages.

She was slumped on the counter, panting for air and with a rosy hue to her cheeks, but he saw the exhaustion in her glazed eyes and trembling muscles.

Shit, shit, shit. She was a Breeder—a ringed Breeder.

Even without activating the nefarious little device, she couldn’t be held responsible for succumbing to basic needs.

But he could, and he should have refused her, no matter how desperately she’d rubbed herself against him, and no matter how every cell in his body burned to give her what she craved.

“Do you… Need me to…?” The Breeder made a vague gesture toward his straining dick without looking at his crotch, the color in her cheeks deepening until her entire face was a vivid red. “Um… Help you?”

Did she just…? Kesh froze. He stared mutely at her for five full seconds—long enough for the roar of blood in his ears to ease and his brain to regain control.

“What I need you to do is eat, Breeder. So if you’re quite done sating your primitive urges, perhaps you will allow me to ensure you don’t keel over and die? ”

She winced at his sharpness—or perhaps at the words themselves—but it seemed to have done the trick.

No further offers of pleasure followed. Which was fortunate, because he could still feel the ghost of her grip on his horns, and just the thought of her hands on his dick sent a shiver up his spine that threatened to shatter what little self-control he’d managed to scrape together.

Kesh bent to grab the dress he’d discarded on the floor when she’d been about to keel over from the strain of drying herself.

She didn’t complain at the crumbled state of the expensive silk fabric, nor did she resist when he pulled it over her head to mercifully hide her naked skin from his tormented gaze.

She did, however, frown as she looked down at herself. “Are we going somewhere?”

“The only place you’re going is to the kitchen, Breeder,” he snapped, reaching out to pull her into his arms.

She stiffened at the closeness—and he didn’t bother to smother an eyeroll. For someone who’d just ridden his face, she seemed awfully inconsistent with her fear of him.

She smelled like woman, the scent of her release teasing at his nostrils as he hoisted her off the ground and held her against his chest. Despite her stiffness, only the faintest waft of fear made it through.

Kesh glanced down and caught her staring at him with wariness, those blue eyes of hers darting from his to his horns.

Wariness — from a Breeder who saw his true face. He’d been there the first time his sister-in-law saw his brother’s demon form. That Georgia was merely stiff in his arms, rather than screaming and fighting to get free, was no small feat.

Perhaps she was going to be less of a hassle than he’d initially feared.

Selma, his brother’s mate, had caused him no end of trouble, up to and including having to conquer the entire fucking continent to keep her safe.

But of course, the now-queen was a Pure Breeder, one of the exceedingly rare humans able to withstand a lord’s magic and conceive his child.

Her presence in their world was always going to cause an upheaval.

A normal Breeder—like the one currently in his arms—though uncommon and of utmost importance for their survival, would not throw their entire power structure into disarray.

And if she proved this tame while still able to see his demonic features?

Once he gave her the blinding mark that would allow her to see his men’s human disguises rather than their true faces, she might even be willing to mate with one of them, rather than reluctantly submitting as their bargain demanded.

With a little luck, she’d be out of his hair in no time, a boon to his territory as she birthed new warriors, rather than the annoying distraction she currently presented.

A point further cemented when, out of fucking nowhere, a seething stab of anger spiked through his chest at the thought of her hands around another man’s horns as she guided his mouth to her sacred core.

Fucking Breeders. One taste of her cursed little pussy and his instincts already rebelled at the thought of giving her to another.

Yeah, the sooner she was someone else’s problem, the better.

But before he could ship her off to do her duty with whichever of his men she ended up choosing, there was work to be done.

The shame of handing off a Breeder in Georgia’s current condition would be more than even a lord’s reputation could withstand.

Suppressing a growl of annoyance, Kesh carried her through to the living area and deposited her on the barstool by the kitchen island. “Eat.”

“Um… You do remember I’m not a horse, right?” The girl looked across the spread of food, eyebrows raised. “This is way too much. And it’ll spoil within a few days in the fridge.”

Irritation that she dared criticize his offering made him sit down on the chair next to her with enough force to make her jolt. Growling, he grabbed a pear and held it to her lips. “Eat.”

Startled, Georgia darted a glance at his face, but the glare he gave her was thankfully enough to make her comply without further complaints.

Parting her plump lips around the piece of fruit, she bit down—and immediately hummed with pleasure.

Kesh swallowed a groan at the responding throb in his cock, still painfully hard from the bathroom ordeal, and when she darted her tongue out to lick at the juices trickling down her chin, his stomach clenched. Blackened stars, what was it about watching this girl eat?

Leaving her to handle the pear on her own, Kesh leaned back before his already riled testosterone made him throw the cursed woman on the banquet to feast on her. Again.

Fuck.

Georgia, seemingly oblivious to his torment, finished with the fruit and turned her attention to the rest of the spread. When a flaky-crusted tart caught her gaze, her eyes widened. “Is that… Did you make a quiche?”

Something in her voice made him want to say yes. How absolutely ridiculous. He was the prince of demons. Of-fucking-course he wasn’t spending his time making the food he supplied for her. “No.”

She grimaced at his growled answer, and a tightening at his tailbone made him grit out, “Why?”

“Oh, just, it looks homemade.” Hesitating for a second, she grabbed a bagel and some cream cheese.

Kesh stared from the quiche to her knife, smearing dairy over the bread. The tightening in his tailbone rose higher. “Is what I have provided not satisfying, Breeder?” he demanded.

She jolted, eyes darting to his. “O-of course. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you. This is wonderful.”

Great. And there was the smell of her fear again, clawing at his brain to make her happy. Furious with his own idiotic instincts as much as her for sparking them, he glared at her until she reached for the quiche with mildly shaking hands, cut a piece and ate it.

“It’s really good,” she lied. “Thank you.”

Kesh closed his eyes, tempering his urge to coo at her until she calmed down again. “One thing you should know, Georgia—you can’t lie to a demon. We can smell it on you.”

It wasn’t entirely true. Yes, an awakened Breeder who attempted to lie gave off a distinct scent, but Georgia had yet to receive the mark that would temper her resistance to their magic.

Sure, if he buried his nose in her neck, his powers were strong enough he’d be able to scent her deceit, but mostly, the lie was written all over her face.

Georgia blanched. “I’m not—it isn’t bad. I like it.”

He arced an eyebrow.

“I just… really like homemade baked goods, especially quiches and pumpkin pies. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply this isn’t good.

It is! More than good. No one’s ever made me a brunch spread like this, and I mean—you’re a demon.

You don’t even eat food. Expecting you to bake was silly.

I’m sorry. I’m still a little out of it, after…

” She swallowed nervously, cheeks flushing a delicious pink as she quickly looked down at her plate.

“Anyway, I’m pretty sure it’s a lot better than what that asshole Jimmy gives women to eat. ”

Kesh rested his elbows on the countertop and pinched the bridge of his nose.

He knew a Jimmy—a slimy demon who ran a popular brothel down in the industrial quarter.

As good a reminder as any that he needed to pay the guy a visit and discuss his unfortunate decision to put a contract on a Breeder.

Yet another distraction from the war he should be focusing on. “That the guy who tried to whore you?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Place called Hell?”

She darted another look at him. “You… go there?”

“You mean, do I fuck chained-up whores on my days off?” The memory of how she’d assumed he brought women home to rape them made his stomach tighten with an unreasonable sense of injustice.

He knew several of his men frequented ‘Hell’ on a regular basis—and he’d occasionally bought them a night there as a reward for diligent service.

Georgia assuming he bedded prostitutes himself wasn’t that outlandish.

Still. Her barely concealed horror at the idea prodded at his stupidly flaring instincts. A fact he didn’t appreciate.

“I-I’m sorry.” By his side, Georgia shrank into her seat, the scent of her fear intensifying. “I didn’t mean to imply?—”

“I swear on the fucking sun, if you apologize one more time—” Kesh cut himself off, as stunned by his growled outburst as her wide eyes suggested she was.

Meekness and subservience were treasured qualities in a Breeder.

Georgia defaulting to ridiculous apologies to placate him shouldn’t grind against every nerve in his body—if anything, that is what should make him hard, not watching her bite into a piece of fucking fruit.

By all the dead stars in the sky, this girl was going to be the death of him.

“I’m s?—”

“No.” Narrowing his eyes, he pointed at her plate. “Just eat. Once you’ve regained your strength, we begin your training.”