She dipped the sponge in the water again before returning to his shoulder, this time washing off the soap. He exhaled, low and deep. Strong muscles softened ever so slightly under her touch.

Georgia glanced up at his face, half expecting his usual glare, but he had his unsettling black eyes were closed, long eyelashes fanning his cheeks. She bit her lip to keep the small smirk there in check and kept her attention on bathing him. Turned out, not even big, grumpy demon lords could resist the magic of a sponge bath. From the way small tremors crossed his stark features now and then, he hadn’t expected her plan to bring him comfort to be quite this effective.

It was oddly… Endearing wasn’t the right word. Demons weren't incapable of being endearing. But there was something surprisingly… almost sweet about seeing a hulking, battle-hardened monster-like the prince relax under her touch.

Carefully, she washed the dried blood and dirt off his face, then turned to his long, matted hair.

The long, low rumble that escaped him when she dug her fingertips into his scalp had her unable to hold back a giggle.

Kesh cracked an eyelid, lips flattening disapprovingly. “What do you find so funny, Breeder?”

“Nothing,” she said, hastily reining the amusement back in, but the damage had been done.

His eyebrows pulled down in a frown, and she sensed his shoulders tensing.

That wouldn’t do. Not if she wanted him to realize just how beneficial bargaining with her could be for him, too.

Georgia speared her fingertips through his hair again and gently scraped her nails along his scalp as she massaged the shampoo deeper.

“Mmm… damn it all.” This time, it was a full moan. “What kind of fucking witchcraft is this?”

“It’s okay to enjoy touch,” she said softly, making sure to keep her fingers rubbing the same, enticing patterns through his strands. “To relax. I couldn’t hurt you even if I wanted to. The battle is over. You won. Let go of all that responsibility for a little while and let me take care of you.”

Kesh grumbled something under his breath, but his shoulders relaxed, and he sank deeper into the tub, eyes closing again.

“That’s it,” she murmured, keeping up the scalp massage until the prince had melted fully into the bath, his head leaning back against the rim, eyes closed. Throat bared. Vulnerable.

Well, as vulnerable as a huge, battle-hardened monster got. She was pretty sure she’d need to be hiding a very sharp machete up her sleeve to be able to do any damage to the prince, even in this state. But the sentiment was there.

“You don’t allow anyone to see you like this very often, do you?” she asked, still keeping her voice low and soothing to avoid riling him up again.

“Of course not. At the best of times, demons tend to slice the throats of anyone standing in their way to power, if given the chance. I’m a prince, and we’re at war.” Despite his terse words, his tone was almost drugged from relaxation.

“I bet your cortisol levels are sky high,” she said, frowning when she realized she didn’t know if demonic biology had human stress hormones. “Or… is that a good thing for you? Since some of you feed on misery…?”

Kesh scoffed, but didn’t deign to give her an answer.

Choosing to refocus on keeping him relaxed, she pushed her curiosity aside and scooped up a pail of water to pour over the prince’s head, making sure not to get any in his eyes. He released a soft exhale, and another when she ran her fingers through his strands to help rinse out the shampoo. It took five pails to get his hair clean—it was thick and long, and felt lush to the touch, if a little rough with enough split ends to suggest he didn’t take any care of it.

There hadn’t been any conditioner among the supplies in the bathroom, but a woman could improvise.

She popped the cork on the body oil and began massaging it into his lengths. The parched hair sucked it up in seconds.

“I thought royals were supposed to be pampered,” she mused.

Kesh snorted. “I’m sure the Europeans have plenty of little human servants enthralled for this purpose. We’ve been a bit too busy trying to survive to really establish the appropriate life of luxury just yet.”

“You don’t seem… keen. On the whole prince-thing,” she said as she moved the stool so she could resume washing his body. There were sprays of blood all over his chest, and she had to scrub a little harder with the sponge to get it off. He didn’t complain at the treatment, but his black eyes opened to watch her while she worked.

“It’s a responsibility I didn’t ask for.”

“But also power, I imagine? You said demons will slice the throats of anyone in their way to get to power.”

He tilted his head, his gaze turning sharper. “They will. And I cut the heads off many a man to get my brother on the throne. Power is… a double-edged sword. A necessary evil, if you will. Even you, little mouse… You strive for power over me, with your bargains and your gentle touches. Hoping to influence me to give you agency. You don’t have the strength to physically subjugate me, so you use other means. Your touch. Your scent. Even the timbre of your voice.

“We all need power, and we all have to face the consequences once we get it. For me, it’s the responsibility of the lives lost to this war. For you… Well, let’s hope you don’t succeed in your quest for power, little Breeder. For both our sakes.”

There was no mistaking the smolder in his black eyes.

Georgia grimaced and quickly lowered her gaze to his chest, refocusing on scrubbing the blood off his scaled skin. The blood and dirt were thick in the water, and she reached down to pull out the plug, making sure not to look further down as the tub emptied.

Power. If he thought servicing a male strong enough to crush her with a flex of his hands, while hoping he wouldn’t lose control and brutally rape her to death was power, then he really didn’t understand what it was like to be small and helpless. Not that he would. No. Someone as strong and physically dominant as the demon prince would never know what it was like to be truly powerless.

She refilled the tub, then dipped the sponge to his abs. They tensed under her touch.

“Does it not feel good here?” she asked, darting a look up at his face.

The intensified smolder in his eyes when she caught his gaze was all the answer he gave her, but it was plenty.

“Oh…” She cleared her throat, wishing she couldn’t feel the blood pool hotly in her cheeks. “Sorry.” She made to pull her hand away, to move on to washing his legs instead, but a large, clawed hand grabbed her by the wrist before she could clear the waterline. Keeping her gaze locked in his, the demon pulled her hand lower down, until the sponge made contact with something rigid and huge.

“You missed a spot.”

The growl in his voice made something clench low in her gut. Terror. Had to be terror.

“I…” She trailed off, biting her lip. She’d known what she was offering when she made her bargain for Suzanne. That he had a horrifying dick didn’t change what he valued in her.

Wordlessly, she relaxed her arm and let him guide the sponge down the full length of him.

He shuddered at the caress, another low growl escaping his throat before he released her wrist and leaned back. Black eyes still locked in hers.

Slowly, she rubbed the sponge back up the length of his cock, then down again, moving around the thick column of flesh to wash every part.

He shuddered in response, clawed hands tightening around the rim of the tub. When she gave the head a gentle stroke of the sponge, he bit his bottom lip and tilted his head back, a soft groan rumbling through his massive body.

Power.

The word rang through her mind again as she looked up at the monster so entirely enthralled by her touch, even muted by the sponge. Perhaps…. Perhaps he hadn’t been entirely wrong, after all. There was a strange rush of power at having this hulking monster of a male trembling with a simple touch. A dark dichotomy between her life ending in his hands if she broke through his ability to control himself, and the knowledge that perhaps she could push the Prince of Demons to his breaking point. She had that power.