Page 25 of Prince of Demons (Demon’s Mark #2)

Kesh

G eorgia practically crept into the bedroom after him, silent and cowed.

He was a demon—finding a human’s pain points was as natural as breathing, and the satisfaction of forcing the Breeder to finally face the reality of her spineless existence should have given him nothing but pleasure.

Instead, seeing her this… pitiful… made his skin itch and his pulse drum in his temples.

Kesh glared at her as he rubbed his forehead, trying to ease the unpleasant sensation.

What the fuck was he doing? Accepting a bargain from a fucking Breeder that would have her, what, servicing him like a common whore?

Neither of them had spelled out exactly how she’d be paying for the time and effort he’d expended on the human spawnling, but he knew how a woman could help a male relax.

It was one thing to take her energy, though if Mallorn ever found out, he didn’t doubt his Second would have further things to say about the Breeder staying in his care.

It was quite another to take pleasure from her for base gratification.

He had to get his shit together before he ruined any chance of her training to take, despite how desperate his stupid instincts were for her attentions.

“Get out.”

The Breeder jolted at his growled command, nervous eyes flashing up to his. “W-what?”

“Get. Out,” he repeated, emphasizing each syllable.

“I’m releasing you from this idiotic bargain.

I don’t need you to take care of me. Go rest in the living room—I’ll come get you when I’ve talked to the king about the events in Maine, and then we’ll get you branded before you sleep so we can continue your training tomorrow.

” And then mated off at the earliest possibility. He didn’t say the last part out loud.

Georgia blinked, body jerking with the instinct to obey his command. But as she placed a hand on the doorknob, she turned to look back up at him, and a flash of reluctant determination settled in her eyes. “No.”

“No?” he repeated, eye-ridged arching.

“We… we made a bargain.” She drew in a deep breath and set her shoulders before releasing the doorknob, stepping back toward him. “You kept your end. I am going to keep mine.”

He gave her an incredulous stare. “I don’t think you quite understand, Breeder. I am rescinding our bargain. Do you know how often a demon will do this?”

“I’m guessing rather rarely,” she said, cheeks flushing. “I’m not trying to be ungrateful; it’s just…”

“It’s just what?” He narrowed his eyes at her. A demon didn’t voluntarily give up a bargain ‘rather rarely’. It was ‘never’. And yet this infuriating human girl chose this moment to challenge him? “Is it that you want to get on your knees for me?”

Her blush deepened. “No. I just… if I don’t keep my end, then you’re unlikely to make another bargain with me in the future.

And it’s been made very clear that bargaining is the only way I get any say or agency with you or any other demon.

So please… let me… let me take care of you.

I’ll make it worth your while. I promise. ”

Kesh bared his teeth, frustration making a low snarl rumble out of his throat. Georgia’s eyes widened in response, her muscles tensing as if she were fighting the urge to flee. But she stayed put.

“Please.”

Please. Why did that word make his gut clench?

He looked at her, at that soft mouth and the innate vulnerability in her eyes.

She’d never be able to hide that, not from him or anyone else.

So she wanted agency. It was not a surprise—every human woman who discovered the horrible twist of fate that allowed her to be bred by demons would eventually become desperate for any kind of say over her own life. Her body.

His mother had too.

“Fine.” He turned his back and began undoing the straps of his armor, angry at the soft, aching thing twisting in his chest. “Do what you want.”

Her steps were hesitant, and when she stopped behind him, she didn’t move again for a long moment. He felt her presence like the sun on his back, heating his skin.

Finally, gentle hands skimmed over his back before grasping for the straps on his armor located there. Her fingers brushed against his scales as she began working on the leather and buckles, and his breath caught in his throat.

“Tell me about your brother and his mate,” she said, voice as soft as her hands as she pulled off his shoulder guards and began working on his chest plate.

“Why?”

“You said your brother went to war with the European demons for his mate. He must love her.” A small silence. “I… didn’t know you could. Love a human.”

Kesh scoffed. “That a demon fights to keep what is his doesn’t mean what he feels is love, Breeder. Once we claim a mate, we’re consumed with possessive urges. It’s primal, on a level far more fundamental than you have any hope of comprehending.”

“So… he doesn’t? Love her?”

“I didn’t say that,” he sighed, annoyance rising at the mere memory of how absolutely, ridiculously soft his brother got around his mate. “Love is… complicated for my kind. It would be better if you didn’t expect such a human thing from your mating.”

“Why?” She finished undoing the straps on his back, moving to his front to lift off his breastplate. Her scent hit his nostrils, tinged with smoke and blood from the battlefield, but still woven through with the warm, gentle touch of female.

The memory of his mother returned unbidden, tightening his sternum.

Not again.

“Because if you go to your mate believing you will eventually be loved like a human man would grow to love you, you will not have the resilience to survive the truth of being mated to a demon. We are possessive creatures, Georgia. Dominating. All-consuming. That is what your attempts to bargain have bought you—eternity as a monster’s most coveted possession.

“If you accept your fate for what it is, you will find a way to face it. Perhaps you might even experience moments of joy. I am told some Breeders come to love their offspring.”

“Some?” she asked, glancing up at him before she began working on the straps for his wrist guards. “Some of your women come to love their children?”

He gazed down at her bent head, his sternum squeezing again. “Yes. Some. In the past… Not every Breeder recovered from the trauma sustained during her procuring process. Which is why the new queen decreed that we first train you, in preparation for your new life.”

“I suppose… that makes sense,” Georgia said, frowning at his wrist guards. “And…”

“And?” he pressed when she hesitated, irritated that he found himself interested in her thoughts on the matter.

“And… well, I didn’t really understand why you’ve been bothering with being…

careful. We made a bargain. You could just make me do whatever it is you need me to do, but…

you haven’t. Not really.” She gave his left wristguard a tug, pulling the leather off, then focused on his right without looking back up.

“So I guess… Thank you. For trying not to traumatize me. The other demon, the one who… ringed me, he… Well, he fed on terror.”

Kesh grunted at the reminder of the slimeball who’d tried to pimp her. He reached down, grasped her chin between his fingers and tugged, forcing her to meet his eyes. “You won’t be given to a man who will abuse you. I swear it.”

He didn’t know why he felt the need to reassure her. She didn’t need him to—as unenthusiastic about her fate as she was, she also seemed resigned to it. Not like his sister-in-law at first. Or his mother.

Blue eyes searched his. Looking for a trick. Or maybe she was looking for the why, too.

Curses, she had beautiful eyes. Deep. Gentle. And with a curiosity that defied her otherwise meek nature. She saw through his disguise, knew what he was, and still… She searched his gaze with interest, as if something about him fascinated her. Like he was a puzzle she couldn’t piece together.

He’d killed in front of her. Fed from her. Told her he would make sure she spent her life being bred by monsters. Why did she look at him like this?

“Is your mother like me? A… Breeder?”

The question appeared in the air between them like a rolling fog, unexpected, sudden.

All-encompassing. It sank into his lungs, clung to his skin, and thickened the air, and for a long, awful moment, all he could see was a lifeless body slumped on a thick, Persian rug.

The smell of blood clinging to his palate; not exciting this time, not arousing. Terrible. World-ending.

“Kesh?”

The sound of his name snapped him out of it. He inhaled sharply as the present came back into focus, and the only scent that filled his nostrils was hers.

“She’s a Breeder?” Georgia said again, the question mark perfunctory. His silence had already confirmed it, and from the empathy now in her eyes, her curious gaze had found something he’d rather not acknowledge was still there.

“Yes.” He dropped his hand from her chin and stepped back, pulling his arm out of reach. “She was. Draw me a bath. I smell like Eurotrash.” Without another look at the Breeder, he pulled off his arm guard, then began working on the other.

Hesitating, she asked, “Was? She died?”

“Yes, she died. She took her own life because no amount of gilding could make her accept her cage. Which is why, Georgia, I tell you to abandon your human notions of what your life is supposed to look like. If you accept the reality of what awaits you, and if I make sure you aren’t mated to a monster as brutal as my father, perhaps you won’t slice your wrists just to escape.

That is my job. That is my responsibility.

And yes, that is why I am careful with you.

Why a whole fucking war has to be put on the back burner so that I may prepare you to spread your legs without fear.

“You are incredibly valuable—we need your womb to strengthen our numbers, or we are fucked. The Europeans, the gods… If we don’t have the men to fight them, we will be exterminated.

” Angry, with only a diffuse sense of why, he finally managed to wrest the last arm guard off and tossed it on the floor.

“Now do you have any more questions before you fulfill the bargain you were so keen to strike? Please, don’t hold back;.

I’m fucking dying to sate your inane curiosity. ”

Only silence answered him. When he shot her a glare, she averted her gaze and finally moved toward the bathtub. Cowed by his burst of temper.

Good.

He stared at her back, silently daring her to turn around and continue testing her luck, but she didn’t. She pulled a stool to the side of the tub and kept her focus on the rising water, not daring to so much as look at him.

Why was she so fucking meek when it came to fighting her own battles? She’d run onto a battlefield to save that spawnling. She hadn’t hesitated to defy him then. But herself? There was no fire to be found when it came to protecting her own interests.

A fine quality in a Breeder—biological instincts to protect younglings; trained subservience to a dominating force. She’d make one of his men a perfect mate.

There was no reason whatsoever for the guilt-laced frustration simmering in his gut at the sight of her cowed posture.

Breeders and their fucking pheromones.

Determined to push down the idiotic response his wiring had to her, he kicked off his steel-enforced boots and pulled off his leather pants, intent on the bathtub.

She wanted to fulfill their deal so she could convince herself she’d be allowed to bargain herself, yet again, some other time?

Fine. He wasn’t about to feel fucking guilty for it.

“There’s a sponge, soap, and oils in the bathroom.”

"Right, I’ll just get—Oh, what the fuck, what… What is that?!”

The Breeder’s sudden, and borderline-hysterical, screech sent a wave of adrenaline through his body as his biology prepared to defend the terrified female. But when he jerked his head up to see what had scared her, her eyes were glued to his crotch.