Page 44 of Prince of Demons
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.
