“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.