Текст книги "Prince of Demons"
Автор книги: Nora Ash
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The prince huffed what could have been a mirthless laugh, one corner of his sinful lips curving up a fraction of an inch. “You’re right. I don’t care. Keep being a doormat, Breeder. It’ll only make you easier to control for whichever demon claims you in the end.” He got to his feet and flicked two fingers at her—his command to follow.
“Where are we going?” God, how she wished her voice didn’t wobble.
Kesh glanced at her before he began walking out of the kitchen. Toward the bedroom.
“You sold yourself for a stranger, Breeder. You know where we’re going.”
She did. Nails digging into her palms, she followed him. Whatever humiliations he had in store for her, she’d chosen this willingly. For Suzanne.
At least there was some comfort in that.
21
Kesh
Georgia 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.
22
Georgia
Frowning, the demon prince looked down at himself. “That’s my dick.”
“That is not a… a penis!” Georgia sputtered, withdrawing several steps as she stared at the monstrosity between his powerful thighs.
From the smooth, blackish-red scales covering his body, a dark, tubular mass of flesh hung from where his man-parts should have been. But that? There was absolutely no way something that thick and… ridged was supposed to be used to make love. Even for a huge demon, that was going too far!
“Don’t tell me you’re a damn virgin,” the asshole demon said, having the audacity to sound exasperated. “Yes, it’s a dick. Would you like to get better acquainted, or can I get in the fucking tub?”
Georgia took another swift step backward, unable to look away from the ridiculous thing. It twitched at her attention. “No! No, get in the tub!” Jerking her attention away, she swiveled on her heel and darted for the bathroom.
Relief flooded through her when, only a moment later, the sound of water sloshing indicated that the prince had climbed into the bath. Thank God.
She rested a hand on the vanity, trying to collect herself. She’d been thankful for his insistence that she wouldn’t survive sex with him before, even if she hadn’t fully understood why. Now, however, she was infinitely more grateful he didn’t have plans to put that medieval torture device inside her.
But… did all demons have members like that? With her newfound knowledge of their reproductive organs, repeatedly being called a ‘Breeder’ painted an even grimmer picture of what was already an uncomfortable moniker.
Surely, they couldn’t all be like that? It would injure a human woman to take that, possibly even kill her. Lesser demons had to be more… reasonable. Probably not pleasant, but… manageable. Yes. That had to be the case.
An echo of the tormented cries of the poor women forced to serve in the demon whorehouse made her shudder and force her focus to gathering the bath supplies. At least she’d been spared that fate. There would only be one monster using her, not a legion.
The prince was in the tub when she returned to the bedroom, resting against the back of it. His long horns curved up behind him, obsidian black and strong. They were oddly beautiful in their animalistic quality and almost managed to make the sharper, scaled protrusions along his shoulders look natural—as if every jagged edge and rough texture on his body was perfectly blended to compliment his hulking frame.
Gathering her courage, she stepped up to the tub and pulled the nearby wooden stool to its side so she could sit. He’d given her the choice to back out of the bargain. She’d insisted because, so long as he held her fate in his hands, she needed a way to be able to sway him. Which meant keeping him open to the possibility of future bargains.
Which, in turn, meant making sure she gave him something he couldn’t easily get somewhere else.
Georgia dipped the sponge into the warm water by the demon’s side, then brought it to his wide shoulders, squeezing it out over the scales to wet his skin. When she dipped it again, she rubbed soap into the sponge, then began gently lathering his shoulder with soothing circles.
A low, involuntary groan rumbled out of the beast’s chest.
She dipped the sponge in the water again before returning to his shoulder, this time washing off the soap. He exhaled, low and deep. Strong muscles softened ever so slightly under her touch.
Georgia glanced up at his face, half expecting his usual glare, but he had his unsettling black eyes were closed, long eyelashes fanning his cheeks. She bit her lip to keep the small smirk there in check and kept her attention on bathing him. Turned out, not even big, grumpy demon lords could resist the magic of a sponge bath. From the way small tremors crossed his stark features now and then, he hadn’t expected her plan to bring him comfort to be quite this effective.
It was oddly… Endearing wasn’t the right word. Demons weren't incapable of being endearing. But there was something surprisingly… almost sweet about seeing a hulking, battle-hardened monster-like the prince relax under her touch.
Carefully, she washed the dried blood and dirt off his face, then turned to his long, matted hair.
The long, low rumble that escaped him when she dug her fingertips into his scalp had her unable to hold back a giggle.
Kesh cracked an eyelid, lips flattening disapprovingly. “What do you find so funny, Breeder?”
“Nothing,” she said, hastily reining the amusement back in, but the damage had been done.
His eyebrows pulled down in a frown, and she sensed his shoulders tensing.
That wouldn’t do. Not if she wanted him to realize just how beneficial bargaining with her could be for him, too.
Georgia speared her fingertips through his hair again and gently scraped her nails along his scalp as she massaged the shampoo deeper.
“Mmm… damn it all.” This time, it was a full moan. “What kind of fucking witchcraft is this?”
“It’s okay to enjoy touch,” she said softly, making sure to keep her fingers rubbing the same, enticing patterns through his strands. “To relax. I couldn’t hurt you even if I wanted to. The battle is over. You won. Let go of all that responsibility for a little while and let me take care of you.”
Kesh grumbled something under his breath, but his shoulders relaxed, and he sank deeper into the tub, eyes closing again.
“That’s it,” she murmured, keeping up the scalp massage until the prince had melted fully into the bath, his head leaning back against the rim, eyes closed. Throat bared. Vulnerable.
Well, as vulnerable as a huge, battle-hardened monster got. She was pretty sure she’d need to be hiding a very sharp machete up her sleeve to be able to do any damage to the prince, even in this state. But the sentiment was there.
“You don’t allow anyone to see you like this very often, do you?” she asked, still keeping her voice low and soothing to avoid riling him up again.
“Of course not. At the best of times, demons tend to slice the throats of anyone standing in their way to power, if given the chance. I’m a prince, and we’re at war.” Despite his terse words, his tone was almost drugged from relaxation.
“I bet your cortisol levels are sky high,” she said, frowning when she realized she didn’t know if demonic biology had human stress hormones. “Or… is that a good thing for you? Since some of you feed on misery…?”
Kesh scoffed, but didn’t deign to give her an answer.
Choosing to refocus on keeping him relaxed, she pushed her curiosity aside and scooped up a pail of water to pour over the prince’s head, making sure not to get any in his eyes. He released a soft exhale, and another when she ran her fingers through his strands to help rinse out the shampoo. It took five pails to get his hair clean—it was thick and long, and felt lush to the touch, if a little rough with enough split ends to suggest he didn’t take any care of it.
There hadn’t been any conditioner among the supplies in the bathroom, but a woman could improvise.
She popped the cork on the body oil and began massaging it into his lengths. The parched hair sucked it up in seconds.
“I thought royals were supposed to be pampered,” she mused.
Kesh snorted. “I’m sure the Europeans have plenty of little human servants enthralled for this purpose. We’ve been a bit too busy trying to survive to really establish the appropriate life of luxury just yet.”
“You don’t seem… keen. On the whole prince-thing,” she said as she moved the stool so she could resume washing his body. There were sprays of blood all over his chest, and she had to scrub a little harder with the sponge to get it off. He didn’t complain at the treatment, but his black eyes opened to watch her while she worked.
“It’s a responsibility I didn’t ask for.”
“But also power, I imagine? You said demons will slice the throats of anyone in their way to get to power.”
He tilted his head, his gaze turning sharper. “They will. And I cut the heads off many a man to get my brother on the throne. Power is… a double-edged sword. A necessary evil, if you will. Even you, little mouse… You strive for power over me, with your bargains and your gentle touches. Hoping to influence me to give you agency. You don’t have the strength to physically subjugate me, so you use other means. Your touch. Your scent. Even the timbre of your voice.
“We all need power, and we all have to face the consequences once we get it. For me, it’s the responsibility of the lives lost to this war. For you… Well, let’s hope you don’t succeed in your quest for power, little Breeder. For both our sakes.”
There was no mistaking the smolder in his black eyes.
Georgia grimaced and quickly lowered her gaze to his chest, refocusing on scrubbing the blood off his scaled skin. The blood and dirt were thick in the water, and she reached down to pull out the plug, making sure not to look further down as the tub emptied.
Power. If he thought servicing a male strong enough to crush her with a flex of his hands, while hoping he wouldn’t lose control and brutally rape her to death was power, then he really didn’t understand what it was like to be small and helpless. Not that he would. No. Someone as strong and physically dominant as the demon prince would never know what it was like to be truly powerless.
She refilled the tub, then dipped the sponge to his abs. They tensed under her touch.
“Does it not feel good here?” she asked, darting a look up at his face.
The intensified smolder in his eyes when she caught his gaze was all the answer he gave her, but it was plenty.
“Oh…” She cleared her throat, wishing she couldn’t feel the blood pool hotly in her cheeks. “Sorry.” She made to pull her hand away, to move on to washing his legs instead, but a large, clawed hand grabbed her by the wrist before she could clear the waterline. Keeping her gaze locked in his, the demon pulled her hand lower down, until the sponge made contact with something rigid and huge.
“You missed a spot.”
The growl in his voice made something clench low in her gut. Terror. Had to be terror.
“I…” She trailed off, biting her lip. She’d known what she was offering when she made her bargain for Suzanne. That he had a horrifying dick didn’t change what he valued in her.
Wordlessly, she relaxed her arm and let him guide the sponge down the full length of him.
He shuddered at the caress, another low growl escaping his throat before he released her wrist and leaned back. Black eyes still locked in hers.
Slowly, she rubbed the sponge back up the length of his cock, then down again, moving around the thick column of flesh to wash every part.
He shuddered in response, clawed hands tightening around the rim of the tub. When she gave the head a gentle stroke of the sponge, he bit his bottom lip and tilted his head back, a soft groan rumbling through his massive body.
Power.
The word rang through her mind again as she looked up at the monster so entirely enthralled by her touch, even muted by the sponge. Perhaps…. Perhaps he hadn’t been entirely wrong, after all. There was a strange rush of power at having this hulking monster of a male trembling with a simple touch. A dark dichotomy between her life ending in his hands if she broke through his ability to control himself, and the knowledge that perhaps she could push the Prince of Demons to his breaking point. She had that power.
Slowly, carefully, she rubbed the sponge along his cock—up and down, up and down. He hissed every time she brushed against those scary-looking ridges along the rim of the head, as if they were so sensitive he could barely stand it.
Curiosity finally won out. Georgia dipped her gaze to the thick column of flesh rising from between his powerful thighs. It was an angry red, aggressively textured, and just… absurd. Gently, she traced a finger along the coronal ridges, drawing a full-body tremble from the demon.
“They’re… softer than I thought they’d be,” she murmured, emboldened by finally having some semblance of control. “Cartilage? Not bone.”
“Yes.” His voice was a low, raspy rumble. “It’s for dominance, not injury.”
“But you would still kill me if we…?” She put the sponge aside and pressed a fingertip into the valley between two ridges, testing the flexibility in the tissue. Despite the uneven texture of his skin, it was still silky soft under her touch.
Kesh growled at the pressure, eyes narrowing—but he didn’t stop her from continuing. “Yes. I would. But not because of the ridges. I’m a lord. My magic is… potent. When I couple with a female, I can’t hold it back, and a human woman can’t withstand its untempered touch within her. You would rip apart from the inside, leaving nothing but a pile of guts and ashes.”
Georgia froze, her attention shifting abruptly to his face at the mention of ‘guts and ashes’. “Um… How do you…? Has that… happened before?”
“It has.” His lip quirked at the look of horror spreading across her face. “Barbaric, isn’t it? Tell me, Breeder, what are you imagining right now? My roar of pleasure as my unwilling victim dies beneath me? The terror and agony for her before I finally snuffed her life?”
That was exactly what she was picturing. Suddenly having zero interest in touching his dick, she pulled her hand away. “Is that not… accurate?”
“Does it matter? You’re a Breeder—no matter how many times you sell your body to me, I’ll never desecrate it. You’re too valuable to end your life screaming on my cock.”
“Of course it matters.” Despite the terror clenching her esophagus, a spark of anger rose at the thought of what he’d done. “You seem incapable of understanding that I care about other people. And… and if you did that… if you…”
“If I raped someone? Multiple someones? Would that be worse than what you already know me to be? You’ve been on your knees before, begging me to spare a woman’s life.” He stared her down, something almost like accusation in his black eyes. As if her horror… offended him.
Georgia set her jaw and shifted her weight on the stool, away from him. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because there isn’t a max level of awful you can reach! That man you killed… at least it was to feed yourself. But to hear that you’ve raped women? Knowing they’d die horribly? You’re no better than the asshole who wanted to sell me in his brothel!” She wasn’t sure why that realization stung like a betrayal. She’d known him to be a monster from first sight, and when he’d killed that poor guy in the bathroom and tried to kill the woman, too, she’d seen exactly how he saw humans: as resources to use. And still, somehow, she’d still felt… not safe with him. But not truly terrified, either. Not like she had at the brothel, because… Because she’d believed him when he’d said he didn’t rape the women he took to his home, and she’d nurtured a sheer, desperate hope that he wasn’t all the way evil. That, however bleak the circumstances, he was proof that her future mate might also be capable of some decency.
He let out a laugh, low and bitter. “Oh, so there are gradients? If I need sustenance, your squishy little Breeder heart can find forgiveness for my atrocities, but if my cravings are for pleasure, for comfort, you’d judge me for indulging?”
“Yes!” she spat. “One is for survival, the other… the other you could ask a woman to give. Or does it have to be forced for you to enjoy it?”
Kesh exhaled slowly, his eyes locked with hers, smoldering with desire again—as if her anger excited the beast within him. “No. It doesn’t. But I don’t have to ask, either, do I, Breeder? Not when I have a mouthy little female at hand who so eagerly traded her services for the night.”
“I suppose desperation to save a child’s life is what a rapey monster would class as ‘eagerness’,” she bit.
A snarl ripped from the prince’s throat. He stood, so abruptly the water sloshed over the edge of the tub, and yanked her up by an iron grip on her arms.
Georgia yipped, terror overriding her anger as he lifted her into the tub and then off her feet, bringing her all the way up to his face. She struggled against his hold, pushing against his massive chest, but he didn’t so much as flinch.
His lip peeled back from his teeth, revealing his sharp fangs, and the look of utter fury in those black vortex eyes shot tendrils of ice to her tailbone. “You want to be a martyr, Breeder? You want me to play the role of the big, bad monster foaming at the mouth to violate you? Fine. I’ll make you the victim you so desperately want to be.”
