Page 93 of Prince of Demons
Georgia didn’t respond, couldn’t. What was there to say? No pleas would spare her, so she said nothing.
They stopped in front of a set of towering double doors, carved from some ancient black wood and inlaid with a sigil she didn’t recognize. Two guards stood on either side, unmoving, weapons held at rest.
Aragalan let go of her arm and turned slightly toward Mallorn. “You’ll be introduced,” he said to Mallorn, still without looking at Georgia. “Father will recognize your part in securing a Pure. That kind of loyalty does not go unrewarded.”
Mallorn gave a short nod, nothing more.
Aragalan didn’t wait for a response. “Stand aside,” he said to the guards.
They obeyed immediately, stepping back in perfect sync.
The doors opened without a sound.
The room inside was vast, but not grand. Dim, quiet. No court. No ceremony. The king was seated behind a desk of black stone, but Georgia barely registered him. Her gaze was drawn to the woman on his lap.
She was naked. Still. Her body draped across his thighs with practiced ease, as if she’d spent centuries being positioned exactly like this. His hand moved gently between her legs, toying with the gleaming band of metal encircling a swollen red clit, elongated from years of misuse, but the woman's face didn’t so much as twitch. Her eyes were open, but vacant—so utterly hollow it made Georgia's stomach turn.
There was no rage in her expression. No resistance. No shame.
Just the kind of silence that came after a mind broke and never came back.
Georgia froze, breath locked behind her ribs.
“Father. Mother. I bring good tidings from the Americas.” Aragalan’s voice was smooth. “The Pure Breeder was successfully secured.”
Mother.
This… this was the King’s mate.
A Breeder. Like her.
Georgia’s stomach twisted. Her lungs felt too tight to draw breath. Her legs wanted to move—forward, backward, anything to get away—but she stayed rooted. There was nowhere to go, and nothing to do but stay and look upon the future that awaited her.
Kesh’s anguished voice, as he told the story of his mother taking her own life, echoed back to her with blinding clarity. This was why, she realized as she looked at the King’s mate’s vacant eyes. To escape, because death was the kinder choice than what it truly meant to be mated to a creature of pure darkness.
The King didn’t look up. He continued working his fingers between his mate’s legs, idle and absent, as if she were no more than a fidget toy. She didn’t move. “How was the crossing?”
“Uneventful,” Aragalan replied, his posture loose, casual. “Our new allies ensured a smooth transfer.”
“Excellent.” The King finally lifted his gaze to Mallorn. “And this is the one responsible for extracting our golden goose?”
“Yes,” Aragalan said. “He served as Second to the imposter prince, but found his allegiance… shifted, once he realized the true deceit his former master is capable of, even toward a loyal servant.”
“Ah. Yes. Their entire bloodline is incapable of loyalty. You will find I have no such confusion. You have brought us a Pure, and your reward will be as promised: the next non-Pure Breeder we source will be gifted to you. As a thank you for your invaluable assistance.” The King’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Assuming, of course, you remain loyal.”
Mallorn gave another nod. “Of course, Your Majesty.”
The King leaned back slightly, fingers retreating from his mate’s clit at last, resting instead on her thigh. “And the other one?” he asked, eyes flicking back to Aragalan. “The one who’s already shipped his whores to Monti and given the palace guards a free night as a welcome bonus... Jimmy, was it? Where is he?”
Aragalan’s jaw twitched with faint distaste. “He made his own travel arrangements. There were some last-minute financial arrangements he wanted to square off with the father before taking his exit, but I suspect he won’t want to linger longer than necessary. According to Mallorn here, Kesh was…attached to the Breeder. No doubt he’ll be looking for her with some intent. Which reminds me—we need to do a pregnancy test on her before the auction. I’m not interested in raising a spawn from the traitors’ bloodline.”
The King waved a hand dismissively. “There’s no way of knowing if she’s carrying until the fetus disables her blinding mark, and the auction is tonight. When you win her, if she sees through the disguise within 2 weeks, we’ll test for paternity, once she’s given birth. If it’s not yours, kill it and breed her again.”
Bright fear struck through her numb horror at the casual cruelty. No. No, that was too much. Even for these creatures. Surely no, they couldn’t, they wouldn’t?—
Her eyes fell on the King’s mate, still draped over his lap. Her body and blank face had the same ageless appearance as her captor, but the signs of wear were unmistakable: stretch marks from births—multiple, from the looks of it—bruises on her hips blooming in shades of fresh purple to faded yellow, and puffy nipples from too much attention. Mercifully, her sex was currently shielded from view by her thighs, but it was more than obvious that here she would be a vessel only. And they would treat any baby she may have conceived with Kesh with even less regard than they would her. Of course a child produced from her womb, not of their lineage, would be considered nothing but a faulty product.
“Mallorn, please.” Her voice came out as a strained whisper, fear for a child she that may not even exist overriding her numb acceptance that there was no way out.
