Page 97 of Prince of Demons
The soft light folded in on itself and she was gone.
Georgia was alone.
A tremor worked its way up her spine as she stared at the place the goddess had stood.
When the door to the opulent suite opened some ten minutes later, and the servants arrived to lead her to her auction, she followed them without a word.
48
Georgia
When the King arrived in front of the large, opulent doors shielding the auction hall from view, the servants had already attached a gold chain to lead her by.
Gold encircled her wrists in ornate shackles and her neck in a collar inlaid with shimmering rubies, but the leash was attached where they expected her true submission.
“You look like a picture-perfect mate already. My son is a lucky man.” The King let his gaze sweep over her, lingering on her bare breasts and sex before he plucked the chain from his servant and gave it a light tug. The motion traveled through the leash to the ring fixed between her legs, pulling her clit taut. Sharp, deep sensation seared through her pelvis, low and brutal. Georgia swallowed a hiss, refusing to give him the satisfaction.
“Come along then, Breeder.” The doors ahead of them began to open. The hall beyond was bright with firelight, a circular room with an arena in the center and seats rising around its perimeter, like an amphitheater of old. The King tugged on her leash again, harder this time.
Georgia didn’t manage to stem a small cry this time. She stumbled after him, powerless against the pull of the ring. As she would be for the rest of her life.
The chain pulled again. Georgia winced and followed, bare feet skimming polished stone, the clink of her shackles swallowed by the rising sound ahead.
When they crossed the threshold, the noise hit her like heat.
A roar.
Dozens of demon lords filled the coliseum stands, their voices thick with hunger and triumph. Not reverence. Conquest.
The King raised the chain slightly as he guided her forward, making sure she stayed a step behind him like a prized beast on display. Every movement of the leash sang along the nerve in her clit, sending sharp reminders of where she was, what she was.
They crossed the center of the arena floor. The lords above leaned forward in their seats, hungry-eyed, leering.
She didn’t meet any of their gazes. Her chin stayed up, but her insides curled tight.
On the far side, steps of white marble curved upward. The King took them without pause, tugging her behind, until they reached a raised platform with gilded railings and a single, low pedestal.
He tugged on the chain, guiding her up on the pedestal with the deep, sharp humiliation of the ring forcing her to flinch and adjust until she stood like he wanted her—arms behind her back, chest thrust forward, legs apart. Naked and visible to every eye in the coliseum.
The King waited for silence to fall over the gathered demons, as every eye fell on her body, displayed like meat on the platform. Then he stepped forward, his voice carried, rich and clear and perfectly amplified without need of a microphone.
“Brethren. Loyal subjects. Warriors of our future.” He paused, letting the crowd’s energy still before continuing. “Today, we mark a turning point. The Americans—our wayward kin, drunk on chaos and weakness—believed they could keep the rarest prize our kind knows to themselves.”
A soft hum rolled through the room. Georgia kept her gaze fixed on the far wall.
“They thought her their salvation. Their rebellion’s seed—a vessel to sire a new generation of traitors. But in the end…” He reached behind him and gave the chain a casual tug, making Georgia raise up on her toes with a whimper. The crowd laughed. “In the end, they saw reason. They understood they could not stand against us. That to do so, would be to perish.”
He let the leash fall slack again.
“This Breeder is a symbol of their weakness. Their defeat. With the surrender of a Pure mate, I announce the end of the war with our traitorous cousins in the West. There is once again only one true court, and I will remember each of you here today. You who remained steadfast. You who did not waver.”
He turned slightly, gesturing toward Georgia with an open palm. “And now, as promised—your reward.
“You all know the rules,” the King said, letting his gaze sweep the crowd. “We begin with a display of wealth. A show of what each of you believes she’s worth to your bloodline—what monetary value you place on the fruit of her womb.”
A ripple of sound—low, eager—passed through the arena.
“Once the first bid has been placed, it may be challenged, either by currency or by a show of strength.” He turned then, pausing to let his gaze wander up Georgia’s trembling form. “A challenger may choose to fight the current bid holder instead of increasing the monetary value. Blood, spilled for the right to breed her. A worthy cost.”
