Page 96 of Prince of Demons
Georgia sat. There was no point in fighting, not about this. Possibly not about anything at all anymore.
She didn’t eat. Not until the prince sat down next to her, picked up a piece of bread between two fingers, and pushed it to her lips. “Open.”
She hesitated for a second, then obeyed. The food tasted like ash, and Aragalan’s satisfied expression, when his fingers brushed her lips and she began mechanically chewing, raised goosebumps of revulsion along her skin. And still, she ate.
Memories of the first time Kesh fed her tried to surface. She didn’t let them.
Mouthful after mouthful slid down her throat, tasteless and invasive.
“You’re beautiful like this,” Aragalan purred, his black eyes turning hooded as they greedily swept over her face and lingered on her mouth. He forced a green olive between her lips and rumbled something akin to a purr when she accepted it. “Submissive. My father tells me my mother took a few weeks before she surrendered fully, but that won’t be a problem with you, will it? Your weakness seems fused into your blood from birth, hmm?”
Georgia glared at him as he pressed another olive—black this time—to her mouth, but there was little fire left in her gaze. “That’s truly what you desire? A hollow shell by your side? Your mother birthed you, and yet you are content to see her like she’s nothing more than a meat puppet for your father to use? That’s all you want out of your wife? A mindless husk?”
“Wife.” The word came out on a mocking rumble. Aragalan swiped his thumb over her lips, then dropped his hand to her thigh, squeezing high. “A truly human concept. You will be my mate, little Breeder. Your sole purpose will be to spread your legs, to receive me, and to birth my heirs.”
He stroked his hand all the way down her leg, then back up under her skirt. His skin was scalding against hers, revulsion crawling up her thigh as he reached her panties and stroked his fingertips against the fabric. “Did you know getting fucked by a demon lord will kill a woman unless she’s a Pure Breeder? Or a demoness, of course. But they’re… not nearly as soft and pliant as human pussy.”
“I’d heard.” She managed to keep her voice steady and her gaze straight ahead, even as his fingers slipped underneath her panties and stroked through her cleft. Only when he found her clit and pressed in did he manage to wrest a shudder from her body.
She clenched her jaw when he began toying with the metal-encircled organ and tried to will her mind away from the screaming of unwilling nerves. Begging now, crying now, would only make it easier for him to snuff her spirit when the true horrors began.
“You will be happy to know, it doesn’t mean I’m inexperienced. My mother has trained me well. I won’t even need to activate your ring.” He plucked at the metal circle, making it scrape cruelly against her clit. “Not after the claiming ceremony. You will be fully conscious as I wring orgasm after orgasm from your quivering flesh until that soft little mind of yours simply… gives. Within a week, you’ll be on my lap, open and receptive to my every demand. Mine, and mine alone.”
Aragalan gave a soft chuckle before pressing his thumb firmly to the tip of her clit, ignoring her involuntary jump. “Well… until our sons are old enough to need training, of course. Then you will service them, too, until they win their own mates, like my mother did for me and my brothers. Isn’t that a beautiful thought, hmm? The circle of life and servitude you Breeders were born for, fulfilled to its fullest potential. Now, why don’t you close your eyes and relax, my pretty? Let’s get you nice and warm for your auction. The more times you come now, the less it’ll hurt when I claim you at your auction tonight.
The door clicked shut behind him, the sound far too soft for the violence it left behind. Georgia stayed where she was, sprawled across the couch like a discarded doll, breath shallow, muscles trembling from exhaustion and shame. Her skin was slick with sweat, the ghost of his hands still burning on her thighs, her throat, the curves of her breasts. The aching nub of her trapped clit. She couldn’t stop shaking. Couldn’t stop remembering.
The room was silent now. Rich with gold leaf and velvet and polished stone, as if opulence could disguise what it was: a cage.
She dragged in a breath that tasted of salt and fear. The prince’s parting words echoed—"you’ll be fetched soon"—and she hated how her heart stuttered at the sound of imagined footsteps. Next came the auction. And then…
Georgia closed her eyes against the truth, but it didn’t stop the knowledge of what came after the auction.
A shimmer broke the stillness—soft at first, like heat haze rising from scorched earth. Georgia froze, breath caught in her throat, muscles seized in terror. The servants. She wasn’t ready. She’d never be ready.
But it wasn’t the prince’s servants come to fetch her for auction.
The glow sharpened, gold bleeding into every shadow, until the room seemed to hum with it. And then—Georgia’s heart stuttered, confusion overtaking fear—Suzanne stood before her.
For a moment, Georgia could only stare. The goddess looked exactly as she had in Maine: barefoot, slight, an innocent child in face and stature.
The goddess smiled faintly, as if they were old friends sharing some harmless secret.
“Suzanne.” The name rasped out of her worn throat.
“Well,” the goddess said lightly, head tilting, “this is disappointing.”
Georgia forced herself upright, every muscle screaming in protest. She clutched the edge of the couch, naked, trembling, glare sharp beneath the weight of everything that had been done to her. “Disappointing?” she rasped. “Do you know what they’ll do to me? What they’re planning? Please, just help me get out.”
Suzanne regarded her like one might a smudged painting—once promising, now ruined. “I thought you’d help me,” she said, almost gently. “I thought you’d be like Selma. Powerful. Capable of bending demonic darkness toward the light. But Kesh didn’t claim you, so… I guess I was wrong. I’m afraid you’re of no use to my plans. Rescuing you now would just draw too much attention to what I’m doing. The demons can’t know, not until I’m ready. I’m sure you understand.”
Georgia’s breath shuddered. “Please. Please don’t let them do this to me. You’re a goddess. You could?—”
“I could,” Suzanne agreed, voice light as air. “But why would I? Saving you risks everything I’ve built. And you’ve already failed me.” She tilted her head, as if remembering something important. “The Stone of Power I gave you. I need it back, so I can give it to my next hopeful.”
“I—I don’t have it.” The words tumbled out of her mouth, stilted and frail as the callousness of the divine being in front of her sank deep. “I didn’t—it’s back in America.”
Suzanne rolled her eyes. “You don’t have it? You were gifted one of the most powerful artifacts on Earth, and you simply… didn’t think to hold on to it? Right. I guess the pieces of my mistake are certainly forming a picture, aren’t they? Well. I'd best be off. Stones to recover, evil power structures to destabilize. Good luck at your auction, Georgia.”
