Page 47 of Prince of Demons (Demon’s Mark #2)

Georgia

K esh’s only response was to hold out his arm in silent invitation to join him.

It felt like a mockery of chivalry, the way his posture remained arrow straight and his face a blank slate as he waited to lead her to her Courting. Like he’d never touched her, never been inside of her. Never called her love.

The skirt of her dress swished as she crossed the room and, hesitating for only a moment, placed her hand on his offered arm.

For a long breath, he remained still, frozen with her hand resting against his leather arm guards. She dared a glance up and met his eyes. And for a moment… for a single split second, she could have sworn she saw… something in those black pools.

It was gone before she could decipher what it was. If it was even more than a figment of her imagination.

Without a word, Kesh began walking, leaving her to keep up with his long strides.

He led her down long corridors with worn, red carpet still present from the days when the casino’s upper floors functioned as a hotel.

Apart from taking out the slot machines on the lower floor, installing his imposing throne, and boarding up the windows, the prince really hadn’t done much to change its 90s-style free lobster buffet aesthetics.

As he pushed open the double doors leading to the stairs, a low murmur of voices drifted up from the throne room.

Her waiting suitors, no doubt.

“How many are there?” she asked, hesitating at the top of the stairs as she realized she’d never asked. Her previous courting had been just a handful of males. This… this sounded like a lot more.

“Just under fifty. Thirteen of whom were on the fence about whether to support us or the Europeans, until the chance at winning your favor arose.” He began descending the stairs, expecting her to follow.

She did, despite the knot of anxiety in her tensing with each step.

“Oh. Well… That’s good. Your brother must be pleased.”

“Yes. He must.”

He was such a fucking dick. Her cheeks pulled up in a mirthless smile.

What the hell was she doing, aching at every clipped word he offered?

He’d told her to grow a spine multiple times.

It was time to do just that, because this?

Fretting and worrying about a man who was happy to hand her off like a maiden of old in exchange for military support? This was beyond ridiculous.

“Right. Well, I guess we shouldn’t keep them waiting any longer.” She snatched her hand off his arm and brushed past him down the stairs, hiking up her skirts to allow for a fast descent.

Kesh made a displeased noise from behind her. She ignored him and continued to the bottom of the stairs and straight ahead, toward the double doors leading into the throne room.

“Georgia!”

Without looking back, she let her skirts drop and pushed both doors open with more force than needed.

They swung open with dramatic gusto.

There may have been just fewer than fifty demon lords present, but there were far more males in the large throne room. Servants, bodyguards… fucking goblet holders, for all she knew. Maybe three hundred, at her startled estimate.

Every single one of them turned to look at her, the murmur of voices dying to complete silence at her appearance.

There was a clench of terror at being their sole focus, a primal human need for self-preservation stirring somewhere deep down. The need of prey to flee and hide. She pushed it away with a force of will.

Women with spine didn’t cower.

“Hello, boys.” Georgia raised her chin and stepped forward, into the throng of demons.

They parted for her like the Red Sea, creating a clear path all the way to Kesh’s throne elevated on the dais straight ahead.

Well, why the hell not?

She sailed forward, chin up, spine straight, regal as fuck.

The only sounds that followed her were the swish of her dress and the clicking of her heels.

When she reached the dais, she hiked her skirts to ankle height and took the two low steps up, then turned around and sat down on Kesh's throne like she belonged there.

From her new perch, she had a clear line of vision to the open double doors she’d just marched through. Kesh now stood in them, taking up the entirety of the frame. His face looked like a thundercloud.

Sick satisfaction thrilled up her spine. With just the tiniest hint of a smirk, she leaned back on his throne and cocked one ankle on her knee in imitation of how he’d sat when she was first brought to him, broken and terrified. Spineless, as he’d called her.

Asshole.

Kesh’s nostrils pulled up at the unspoken provocation. Black eyes locked in hers, displeasure rolling off his wide frame in waves. Without a word, he stalked down the cleared path toward her with long, sure strides. Like a warship on smooth water.

He didn’t stop until he was right in front of her.

Georgia tipped her head back to look up at him, but made no attempt to move out of his seat.

The silence in the throne room was deafening.

His eyes narrowed in warning.

She narrowed hers in response.

His lip curled up, bearing the faintest hint of what now looked like a blunt human fang at her, but before she could mimic the gesture, he grabbed her by the upper arms and hoisted her off the throne.

Georgia gave an indignant squeak, then a huff when he took his seat and placed her on his lap.

“I was sitting there.”

“You were. And now, I am.” His strong hand curled around her hip, holding her in place, before he directed his attention to the gathered demons.

“Forty-nine lords have been invited to court the most recent Pure Breeder to surface. Yet my throne room is packed with six times that number of males. If you are merely here to gawk at the girl, this is not the time nor the place. We’re at war.

My lords, please dismiss your entourages to the perimeter of the building.

If you wish to court the Breeder, you will do so alone. ”

Mutterings rose from the crowd, then a stream of demons began filing out through the double doors.

When movement finally stilled again, she could see guards stationed around the entire perimeter of the large hall.

Fifty men remained in front of the throne.

Like Kesh, all had that same air of barely concealed power thrumming under their skin.

Bar none, each of them had his gaze fixed on her.

Georgia lifted her chin higher. They may look like barely leashed predators in human disguise, but she wasn’t prey. They were here to win her favor, not tear her apart. Unlike the male whose lap she was perched on.

“Your Highness… The invitation stated there would not be an auction, but a courting of this lovely girl. Perhaps it would be prudent to explain what this will entail?” The one male in the center of the room whose eyes weren’t glued to her bowed his head respectfully at Kesh.

The prince exhaled an annoyed sigh. “What does it entails, Governor Maell? Do our most powerful, most clever lords really need instructions on how to win a woman’s favor?

It’s a courting. Present your case to her.

Tell her why she would be happy at your side, in whatever manner you see fit.

In the end, she will choose the man who most appeals to her.

The only rule is that you will not lie to her.

Whatever life you offer, you will be bound to provide.

Should you be proven to have lied in order to gain her favor, you will lose your right to her. Claiming mark or no.”

A murmur rose up among the gathered males. The shock was palpable in the room.

Something tried to soften behind Georgia’s ribs. Something ridiculous that she wanted no more part of. But still. This stipulation…

Even if he didn’t care about her in the way she’d been stupid enough to think for a few, precious moments, he did care enough to ensure she wouldn’t be tricked into a life she didn’t sign up for.

Yes, what a fucking hero he is.

The wave of irritation at her heart’s attempt to soften for the brute who’d broken it only a day before made her able to push down the small spike of gratitude.

“She will choose?” a large, red-haired male asked from the crowd. His handsome but brutal face was drawn in outrage. Georgia made a mental note to stay far away from him.

“You would break an established mating claim!?” another gasped.

“Yes, the Breeder will choose her mate from among you herself.” From behind the throne, Kesh’s father stepped forward to stand by their side.

Without conscious thought, Georgia shrank back against Kesh, her newfound no-more-fucks-to-give attitude not quite matching up to the eerie aura this particular demon gave off.

Kesh tightened his grip on her hip, a soft rumble escaping his throat. It cut off abruptly, and she got the distinct feeling the soothing sound in response to her unease had been as involuntary as her instinctive urge to seek his protection. He did, however, keep his tight grip on her hip.

If Kirigan noticed the effect he had on her, he didn’t pay it any mind.

“And yes. Your words to her today are a binding contract. You know the queen’s wishes—this is the compromise that was reached with her.

No one will break your sacred bond to your new mate if you ensure she is happy.

Which was already the sworn duty of any male who claims one of our desperately rare Breeders.

“We have lost too many mates to careless treatment over the years.

Yes, a broken mate bond is a fate that often leads to death.

But at least it will only be your death.

You will not end the life of a precious Breeder under your responsibility.

She would instead be allowed a new Courting, and hopefully given to a more worthy male, capable of keeping his vow to his mate's happiness. I would think none here would have any qualms about this stipulation? After all—the mothers of our species must be protected above all else.”

The man who had spoken first—Governor Maell—bowed his head. “Wise words. And wise of our queen to recognize the disconnect between our old customs and our Breeders’ needs.

“My mating took place centuries ago, when times were… different. But I can admit in hindsight, things would have been… smoother over the years, had my mate chosen me willingly. Considering the blessing our king and queen’s union has brought both them and us, it would be foolish to disregard the value of changing our practices, however challenging it may seem to realign our very nature, no? ”

There was another murmur of discontent among the gathered lords.

“That’s all well and good, but it doesn’t change the fact that she has spent days alone with the prince,” a man with long, black hair and a scar down his lip bit out, keen eyes remaining fixed on her, despite addressing Kirigan.

“Days where he will have influenced her, given her pleasure… He branded her, did he not? How is this… courting… anything but a pretense to sanction another Pure Breeder falling into your family’s hands? ”

This time, the murmurs rose to angry shouts of agreement.

“It’s unmatched corruption!”

“This is how you reward us for supporting your family’s claim to the Americas?”

“Silence!” Kesh’s voice boomed through the room, making Georgia jump.

The gathered lords quieted, but the tension in the room was nearly physical.

Lips pulled back in silent snarls, fists clenched.

A sharp, pungent stench touched her nostrils, like a watered-down version of the smell that had encapsulated the sleepy fishing village in Maine during the battle there.

The acrid spell of violent, dark magic, this time, waiting to be released.

“You abandoned the old king for his family’s treachery in attempting to steal an illegitimate mate to their bloodline.

If you are so easily convinced I would do the same, you have chosen your allegiances poorly.

” Every word out of Kesh’s mouth was tense, clipped.

“I will not court this Breeder. She will choose her mate without a bid from me.”

Icy talons pierced her gut as the hall erupted in calmer, though clearly surprised, murmurs. She straightened her spine until it hurt, letting anger wash away the throb of pain at his words.

“And what motivation does she have to choose anyone?” the redhead from before asked. “If the choice is purely the Breeder’s, what’s to stop her from simply staying here, unmated?”

Enough. Full stop. Enough.

“First of all, ‘the Breeder’ has a name. It’s Georgia.

Hi. That’s me.” She leveled the redhead with a stare.

“As for what guarantees you have that I won’t simply opt out of your little arranged wedding scenario—you’re looking at him.

Staying here would mean staying with this asshole.

So don’t you worry your pretty little head about it, ‘kay? I’d quite literally rather poke out my own eyes than spend any longer than I have to with your so-called prince.

I’m sure one of you can manage to scrape together some semblance of a decent personality and a non-rapey marriage prospect. ”

A low, dark rumble vibrated from Kesh’s chest into her—nearly imperceptible to her human hearing, but she felt it everywhere her body touched his. Every hair on her body stood on end in response to the primal threat of that sound, but it was a sick thrill, not fear, that shot up her spine.

His thick fingers dug into her hip, hard, and for a short second, she thought he’d yank her back against his chest. Punish her.

A long, tense moment passed as the gathered lords stared from her to Kesh in utter shock at her open disrespect of their volatile prince. Awaiting his reaction.

Slowly, finger by finger, he relaxed his grip on her hip, then leaned back against his throne in utter dismissal, allowing her to get up.

Good riddance.

Georgia got to her feet, lifted her chin, and surveyed the forty-nine men there to court her.

Even blind to their true nature as she was with the mark Kesh had given her, it was impossible to pretend they weren’t something other. The low hum of power in the room itched against her skin, and the way they watched her with singular, unified focus was as preternatural as it was unsettling.

But they were also her future.

Her choice.

“Well? Are you going to court me, or what?”