Текст книги "Prince of Demons"

Автор книги: Nora Ash

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 24 страниц)

13

Kesh

He’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.”

14

Georgia

Training.

Not the least ominous sounding word when coming from an enormous demon who insisted on calling her Breeder.

Georgia picked at her breakfast, not in any rush to find out exactly what the brutish prince meant by that. It only served to irritate him more.

“Eat.”

She jolted at the snarled command, daring a look at the demon by her side. He was glaring down at her as if her very existence offended him on a personal level, arms folded across his massive chest. Despite his anger at her apologies, she had the distinct impression he was still offended by her lack of enthusiasm for the damn quiche.

“I’m eating, I’m eating.” She stabbed a piece of scrambled egg on her fork and popped it in her mouth with what she hoped was suitable appreciation. But when she put the fork down next to her plate while she chewed, the prince picked it back up, wrangled another forkful of egg, and, without ceremony, brought it to her mouth.

“Wh—” Georgia’s surprised protest broke off on a cough when he shoved the fork between her lips. She barely managed to chew before he forced another mouthful in. And another. Crisp slices of bacon followed the eggs, and then several olives, a buttered blueberry muffin, and a handful of grapes that he pushed against her lips one at a time, gaze heating when her tongue flicked against his fingertips.

The demon prince clearly had a feeding kink.

Great. Just great.

But still, it beat Jimmy. By a wide margin. At least for now.

Georgia slanted a glance up at the demon’s burning eyes as she chewed on yet another grape. His attempt at shaming her for offering to repay him the favor in the bathroom aside, his interest in her was obvious. She wasn’t here to do his laundry and vacuum his floors, and once whatever hellish training he had planned was complete, she doubted he’d hold himself back like he had up until now.

So she allowed him to feed her far past what was comfortable, keen on delaying the inevitable for as long as possible. Only when her stomach ached and the grape he pressed to her mouth made bile rise in her throat, did she finally put a shaky hand on his wrist.

“I can’t eat anymore.”

The prince frowned down at her. “You’ve hardly touched your food.”

Georgia glanced at the table and let out a weak laugh. “You’ve not dealt with humans much before, have you?”

“I’ve dealt with plenty.”

“Well, I don’t think you ever got around to feeding them. We have limits, you know? Physical restrictions? Less-but-more-frequently works better, if you’re not actively trying to rupture our stomachs.” She put a hand to her belly and groaned, regretting not stopping him sooner. Unless whatever training he had in mind consisted of a long nap while she digested the absurd quantities of breakfast he’d made her eat, being so full she could hardly move was unlikely to make the experience any more enjoyable.

The prince only frowned at her, clearly not convinced. “How are your energy levels?”

“Um…” Despite the urge for a nap, surprisingly good. Somewhere during the ridiculous breakfast, her muscles had stopped trembling, and she no longer felt like a mild gust of wind might make her collapse.

Georgia glanced up at the prince and briefly considering telling him she was still too weak for whatever horrors he had planned, but quickly remembered that apparently he could smell her lies. As much as she wasn’t looking forward to his training, pissing him off by lying first probably wasn’t going to improve the experience. “Better. Thank you.”

“Alright. Let’s go.” He got to his feet and flicked two fingers at her. When she obeyed, he began walking back down the hallway. Toward the bedroom.

The hope she’d harbored that his training would consist of sit-ups and cardio, already practically non-existent, hit the floorboards.

Kesh shouldered his way through the doorway and gestured with a nod of his chin. “Get on the bed.”

Georgia drew in a shaky breath and glanced from the bedding still tousled from when she’d gotten up this morning to the giant demon. “Um… what… what are you going to do?”

“First, I’ll mark you. Then I’ll train you.”

How delightfully nondescript.

She grimaced. “Will it… hurt?”

He huffed a breath through his nose. “If you were worried about pain, perhaps you should have asked this before you sold yourself for that useless brother of yours.”

Unexpected anger flared hotly in her gut, suppressing some of her anxiety. “He’s not useless. He’s kind and good-hearted and he didn’t deserve to die. I’d sacrifice myself a thousand times over for him.”

“Then what do you care if there’s pain?” There was a taunt to the prince’s voice, but also… something else. Irritation? Anger? It made her skin prick with primal awareness, her anxiety pushing to the forefront again at the sound of it.

“If he’s worth your body, your life, then surely he must be worth some pain, hmm? A bit of humiliation.” The prince snapped his fingers. “So get. On. The. Bed.”

He was right. Even when she’d thought she sold her body so Lewin could harvest her juices, she hadn’t expected a pleasant experience. This dark monster might be a better fate than the brothel she’d been facing before one of Jimmy’s goons grew a conscience, but he was still the Prince of Demons. Even if he’d been surprisingly gentle with her so far, she wouldn't soon forget how he’d crushed that poor man’s skull to replenish his own energy. By comparison, a little pain and humiliation wasn’t the end of the world.

Steeling herself, Georgia climbed onto the bed and lay down on her back. He hadn’t asked her to strip out of the silky dress, but the flowy garment wasn’t much help in protecting her modesty. The skirt bunched up around her thighs, and she felt the sear of the demon’s gaze on her skin as he moved closer.

Whatever branding meant, he’d healed Larry. It was worth it.

“You’re shaking.” His deep voice didn’t betray any emotion, and when she cut her eyes up to his terrifying face, the expression on it was impassive.

Georgia clutched her hands in the bedding, trying to anchor her trembling muscles. “Sorry.”

The demon blew out a breath and sank down on the foot-end of the bed, a single fingertip skimming over her bare ankle. “Are you always so sorry, little lamb? When you lay down your life for another, when you don’t do what you’re told… When you tremble and fear for your pretty little cunt, the first thing that comes to mind for you is to apologize?”

His heated touch traveled higher up her shin, rendering her tongue dry and her skin pebbled with nervous goosebumps. His voice was soft, but there was a quiet, lethal quality to it that set her on edge as much as his touch and the ominously lacking explanation of what he was planning on doing to her.

“I… we made a deal. You kept your end of the bargain, and I promised… compliance,” she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut when his hand moved to her knee and warm anticipation spread up her thighs. Perhaps if her body didn’t remember the two times he’d touched her there already, it would have been nothing but dread. But even as her mind turned over the words ‘branding’ and ‘training’ with frantic repetition, the slow slide of his hand, ever upward, sent a thrill of excitement along her skin. The utter and complete mortification made her clutch harder at the sheets. He was a prince among the darkest monsters to haunt the Earth—and his merest touch made her clit swell against its metal confines, eager for pleasure that should have disgusted her.

Only it didn’t.

Deep down, she knew that even his demonic face would do nothing to tamp the increasing burn in her blood as his fingers finally reached the hem of her skirt and pushed up underneath it—but so long as she kept her eyes shut, she wouldn’t have to acknowledge it.

Something is seriously wrong with you, Georgie.

“Oh!” The first stroke of his knuckle over her lower lips sent a lightning bolt up her spine that had her breath exploding out of her chest.

A deep, rich growl vibrated through the air, pebbling her nipples.

“You’re wet.” There was more than a hint of accusation in the Prince’s voice—but not nearly enough to drown out the heat. It crawled up her thighs and sank into the bones of her pelvis, cementing the shameful truth of his words.

“S-sorry.”

He huffed an irritated sound and then rubbed his thumb up the length of her slit to find her exposed clit. When he brushed the pad over the sensitive flesh, the crackle of sensation—too sharp, too intense—made her jerk and suck in a sharp breath.

The prince pinned her in place with a large, heavy hand pressed firmly to her abdomen, low enough to not agitate her still-full belly. “Oh, no. You promised compliance, remember? So you will comply.”

His snarled command shouldn’t have made her pussy clench—it really, really shouldn’t.

Her body didn’t give a single fuck.

The next brush of his thumb over her clit was still much too intense, but behind the screaming of nerves, something dark and needy rose. She was entirely helpless, entirely at his mercy—forced to take the stimulation to her exposed little clit, no matter how much it might hurt. That thought should have filled her with terror—and it did—but not nearly enough to drown out the tidal wave of lust that rose from the deepest parts of her mind in response.

“Oh my God! Harder! Please—please, more!”