Page 54 of Prince of Demons (Demon’s Mark #2)

Georgia

T he royal palace was quiet.

Not the kind of quiet that comforted. The kind that made it hard to breathe. The velvet runner underfoot swallowing the sound of their steps, as though sound wasn’t allowed in this place.

Georgia walked between her kidnappers. Aragalan on her right. Mallorn on her left.

She kept her eyes on the floor. The hallway stretched ahead, a gallows walk, an endless runway of opulence and excess. The contrast to Kesh’s casino was stark enough to register through her numb horror as she was marched through the palace.

Somewhere over the Atlantic, once the realization finally set in that there was no way out, her mind had slipped from raw terror into the kind of cold, creeping dread that settled in bone. No more bargains to be made, and no rescues to be had. Kesh wasn’t coming to get her.

Her heart gave a dull throb deep behind her ribs.

How she was still capable of feeling something as ridiculous as heartbreak amid the despair, she didn’t know.

Mallorn had fooled her so easily, because he’d known exactly where to twist the knife: he’d fed her stupid heart hope, and she’d leaped at the chance to believe that Kesh loved her after all, despite all the proof to the contrary.

But now?

Even if he did care, he wasn’t going to save her. Not this time. She was deep in enemy territory, and the cost of retrieving her was not justifiable to a prince with subjects and territory to protect.

She wasn’t worth the price.

“I can still smell it,” Aragalan’s voice was almost soft; a velvet caress laced with poison. He didn’t look at her, but his hand constricted slightly around her upper arm. “The sadness. The fear. I believe I have made myself clear that I do not tolerate pheromone manipulation, Breeder.”

“I can’t control my smell.” In the past, she would have apologized, cowered. That girl would have done everything in her power to diffuse his anger, to make herself as small a target as she could.

That girl, who still thought there might be way to lessen the horrors that lay ahead, was dead.

“In that case, I’ll make sure you stop stinking of fear myself.

There are ways, even if I can’t yet twist that pretty little ring Jimmy said you’ve been fitted with,” the prince said, almost lightly.

“We’ll make sure you enter your auction with the sweet smell of submission staining your skin instead. ”

Georgia didn’t respond, couldn’t. What was there to say? No pleas would spare her, so she said nothing.

They stopped in front of a set of towering double doors, carved from some ancient black wood and inlaid with a sigil she didn’t recognize. Two guards stood on either side, unmoving, weapons held at rest.

Aragalan let go of her arm and turned slightly toward Mallorn. “You’ll be introduced,” he said to Mallorn, still without looking at Georgia. “Father will recognize your part in securing a Pure. That kind of loyalty does not go unrewarded.”

Mallorn gave a short nod, nothing more.

Aragalan didn’t wait for a response. “Stand aside,” he said to the guards.

They obeyed immediately, stepping back in perfect sync.

The doors opened without a sound.

The room inside was vast, but not grand. Dim, quiet. No court. No ceremony. The king was seated behind a desk of black stone, but Georgia barely registered him. Her gaze was drawn to the woman on his lap.

She was naked. Still. Her body draped across his thighs with practiced ease, as if she’d spent centuries being positioned exactly like this.

His hand moved gently between her legs, toying with the gleaming band of metal encircling a swollen red clit, elongated from years of misuse, but the woman's face didn’t so much as twitch.

Her eyes were open, but vacant—so utterly hollow it made Georgia's stomach turn.

There was no rage in her expression. No resistance. No shame.

Just the kind of silence that came after a mind broke and never came back.

Georgia froze, breath locked behind her ribs.

“Father. Mother. I bring good tidings from the Americas.” Aragalan’s voice was smooth. “The Pure Breeder was successfully secured.”

Mother.

This… this was the King’s mate.

A Breeder. Like her.

Georgia’s stomach twisted. Her lungs felt too tight to draw breath. Her legs wanted to move—forward, backward, anything to get away—but she stayed rooted. There was nowhere to go, and nothing to do but stay and look upon the future that awaited her.

Kesh’s anguished voice, as he told the story of his mother taking her own life, echoed back to her with blinding clarity.

This was why, she realized as she looked at the King’s mate’s vacant eyes.

To escape, because death was the kinder choice than what it truly meant to be mated to a creature of pure darkness.

The King didn’t look up. He continued working his fingers between his mate’s legs, idle and absent, as if she were no more than a fidget toy. She didn’t move. “How was the crossing?”

“Uneventful,” Aragalan replied, his posture loose, casual. “Our new allies ensured a smooth transfer.”

“Excellent.” The King finally lifted his gaze to Mallorn. “And this is the one responsible for extracting our golden goose?”

“Yes,” Aragalan said. “He served as Second to the imposter prince, but found his allegiance… shifted , once he realized the true deceit his former master is capable of, even toward a loyal servant.”

“Ah. Yes. Their entire bloodline is incapable of loyalty. You will find I have no such confusion. You have brought us a Pure, and your reward will be as promised: the next non-Pure Breeder we source will be gifted to you. As a thank you for your invaluable assistance.” The King’s smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“Assuming, of course, you remain loyal.”

Mallorn gave another nod. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

The King leaned back slightly, fingers retreating from his mate’s clit at last, resting instead on her thigh.

“And the other one?” he asked, eyes flicking back to Aragalan.

“The one who’s already shipped his whores to Monti and given the palace guards a free night as a welcome bonus. .. Jimmy, was it? Where is he?”

Aragalan’s jaw twitched with faint distaste.

“He made his own travel arrangements. There were some last-minute financial arrangements he wanted to square off with the father before taking his exit, but I suspect he won’t want to linger longer than necessary.

According to Mallorn here, Kesh was… attached to the Breeder.

No doubt he’ll be looking for her with some intent.

Which reminds me—we need to do a pregnancy test on her before the auction.

I’m not interested in raising a spawn from the traitors’ bloodline. ”

The King waved a hand dismissively. “There’s no way of knowing if she’s carrying until the fetus disables her blinding mark, and the auction is tonight.

When you win her, if she sees through the disguise within 2 weeks, we’ll test for paternity, once she’s given birth.

If it’s not yours, kill it and breed her again. ”

Bright fear struck through her numb horror at the casual cruelty. No. No, that was too much. Even for these creatures. Surely no, they couldn’t, they wouldn’t?—

Her eyes fell on the King’s mate, still draped over his lap.

Her body and blank face had the same ageless appearance as her captor, but the signs of wear were unmistakable: stretch marks from births—multiple, from the looks of it—bruises on her hips blooming in shades of fresh purple to faded yellow, and puffy nipples from too much attention.

Mercifully, her sex was currently shielded from view by her thighs, but it was more than obvious that here she would be a vessel only.

And they would treat any baby she may have conceived with Kesh with even less regard than they would her.

Of course a child produced from her womb, not of their lineage, would be considered nothing but a faulty product.

“Mallorn, please.” Her voice came out as a strained whisper, fear for a child she that may not even exist overriding her numb acceptance that there was no way out.

He ignored her. They all did.

Georgia choked back the sob threatening to spill out and pressed her hands to her lower abdomen, not to shield a fetus that might not even be there, but to hold in the gut-splitting terror. “Mallorn… you can’t let them do this. Please. Please.”

No one so much as looked in her direction.

“We have much to prepare for tonight,” the King continued, as if she hadn’t even spoken.

“Show our new friend to his suite, then prepare the Breeder for her auction. We can’t have her reeking of fear when our allies come to make their bids—we need them in a good mood to ensure they take the other news…

with the correct understanding. If their attention is on the possibility of a submissive little mate, the peace treaty I’ve brokered with Kirigan should sound… more like victory than compromise.”

Kirigan?

No. That couldn’t be right.

She must have misheard. Misunderstood. The name echoed again—clear, deliberate—and the cold started at her fingertips this time, creeping up her arms like frostbite.

Not Mallorn.

Not Jimmy.

Kesh’s father.

“I still don’t understand why he would offer this deal,” Aragalan said, gaze sliding to Mallorn.

“Offering the Breeder, agreeing to limit Kain’s territory to North America.

They have one of our Stones of Power, the other is gone…

We’ve lost two lords in direct combat to the younger son.

Without this auction, if we didn’t secure a victory within the year, our support might have begun to slowly dwindle.

So what incentive did he have to suggest giving us not only a ceasefire, but a Pure Breeder as well? ”

“He offered for the same reasons I accepted. Kirigan is only a few centuries younger than I,” the King said, turning his black eyes to the broken woman on his lap.

“I fought him at your mother’s auction, and even then, no lack of cunning, merely his youth that ensured my victory.

Had he been older at the time, stronger…

he might have taken her. He is… clever. The costs on both sides are already racking up, and no matter who wins in the end, this conflict depletes our numbers.

“The gods are watching us. Waiting. The second they see their chance, they will strike.

Whoever is left standing will be wiped out.

So, in the end, this is better for us all.

Especially for you. Now go—take your mate-to-be to recover from the journey.

She will need all her strength for tonight.

Her submission underneath you after you win will be a beautiful seal to our new peace treaty.

Georgia barely registered the large hand curling around her arm and pulling her out the door. Acid shock churned through her system as the full scale reality of what he was saying sank in.

Kirigan hadn’t brokered peace with diplomacy.

He’d traded her for it.