Georgia stared mutely at him as he added a few lines to the contract she’d signed, waving over Lewin to add his initials below the crimson words that sold her as a whore for demons.

She’d been seven years old when Larry was born, and from the moment she lay eyes on his squinty little face, she’d known it was her job to protect him. Always. And she had. Her mom had even trusted her with some of the night feedings, the diaper changes—and rocking him to sleep when he was fussy, because no one else could calm him as quickly as she could.

A few years later, when Mike left and their mother retreated to her bedroom to grieve, Georgia was the one to cook dinner and make sure there were clean clothes. Once she got her license, she took him to school and lacrosse practice, and when Mike got married and had kids with his new wife, she was the only one who got to see how much that hurt her baby brother. She’d rocked him like she'd done when he was a baby, and he’d told her she was all the family he needed.

If this creep of a demon gave her a way of saving his life… It shouldn’t matter what she’d have to pay.

Irral returned moments later, a roll of bills in one hand and the other closed into a tight fist. He lobbed the bills at Lewin and handed whatever was in his other hand to Jimmy before he looked at her.

Georgia blinked. If she wasn’t mistaken, there was reverence in his black eyes.

“Nice.” Lewin flicked a thumb through the wad of cash and nodded at Jimmy. “See ya around, Jimmy. Breeder.”

Georgia glared at him as he exited the room with a joyful whistle, but he didn’t so much as glance her way. To him, she was truly nothing but a piece of meat to be bargained or… or eaten.

“What’re you gonna do with her, boss?” Irral asked, and when she looked back at him, he was still staring at her as if she were some kind of prophet reborn.

Jimmy sighed and pushed away from the table, getting to his feet. “Well, she’ll need to be ringed before we put her to work. A crying Breeder’s gonna be a turnoff for some of the clientele.”

“Boss… Are you sure you want to whore her?” Much to her astonishment, Loyt sounded more than a little reluctant. “She’s supposed to be… sacred.”

Sacred? Georgia looked at the big brute. The grim look on his demonic features made her heart skip a beat. If he thought she was sacred⁠—

“Please. There’s nothing sacred about Breeders. So they can push out horned babies, big whoop. Don’t tell me you two knuckleheads are gonna be a problem just because her pussy smells good, hmm? You’d make shitty fathers anyway, so don’t be getting any ideas with my merchandise.” Jimmy gave them both a stern stare.

“Of course not,” Irral said quickly.

And the sliver of hope that either bodyguard might help her escape turned to ash when Loyt shrugged and added, “Just thought you’d like to consider what’ll happen if someone runs their mouth in the wrong place. But I’m sure you’ve got a plan for what to do if the Prince shows up after hearing a rumor that we’re keeping a Breeder on the premises.”

Jimmy scoffed. “The Prince is busy with the war. If he heard about her, he won’t be hauling his ass off the battlefield to rescue one pathetic little Breeder. But he won’t hear anything. I’ll draw up a contract for anyone who wishes to buy a round on her. She’s staying a secret—no one will be able to breathe a word of her existence without turning inside out. Now stop fretting like a couple of old maids and get her to the prep room. The sooner she gets done, the sooner she starts earning her keep.”

“As you wish.” Irral grabbed her above the elbow, his scaly hand like an iron band around her muscles. She flinched away from him on instinct, but Loyt crowded her in on the other side, blocking her off. He didn’t touch her, but he didn’t need to. His nearness was enough to remind her that she would not be able to run from this.

Not that she could, even if she’d had the chance. Not before Larry was okay.

Georgia didn’t struggle as they pulled her through the door and into another room filled with file cabinets and what looked like a safe, then out another door and into a narrow corridor made up of stud walls. The sound of female cries still echoed from further back in the warehouse, but she pushed them to the background until all she could hear was her own harsh breathing and the rush of blood in her ears.

Whatever happened next, she would get through it. For Larry.

The demons only stopped after dragging her through a steel door and into a room clad in metal rather than drywall. Unlike the corridors and Jimmy’s office, it had a ceiling, and when the door closed behind them, the sounds of sobbing women abruptly cut off.

“Get her on the bench,” Jimmy ordered, moving from behind them toward the middle of the room, pausing next to what looked like a medical examination couch—complete with stirrups and buckled leather straps on both ends.

“You can’t be serious.” The protest left her on a wheezing exhale. Her lungs constricted painfully, making it hard to breathe. It didn’t get any easier when she forced her eyes from the bench to the rest of the room. An array of devices hung on the wall and lay spread out on a wooden tabletop pushed up against the far corner. They looked like something out of a medieval dungeon. Of the especially awful variety.

“It’ll be over soon,” Irral murmured, the softness of his voice a sharp counterpoint to his grip on her arm. He pulled her forward, and when her legs refused to move on their own and she stumbled, lifted her with a grip on both her biceps and carried her the final few steps.

“No.” The word escaped before she could fully form the denial in her mind. “I don’t want this. Not… not this.”

“I thought you wanted your brother to live?” There was a taunt in Jimmy’s voice. He gestured to the two other demons, then turned to the table in the corner. “Besides, this is a great honor. Only my most valuable whores get ringed—and they have to work long and hard to earn it. You, my golden goose, get one from first fuck. Sure, there’ll be a little pain now, a little humiliation, but I suspect you’ll be grateful soon enough. Horny demons can get a little, shall we say, enthusiastic. I’m given to understand that bedding one can be rather unpleasant without a ring.”

She did want Larry to live. More than anything.

But when Irral held her still so Loyt could pull off her jeans and underwear, and they then lifted her onto the bench, there was nothing she could do to keep back the tears.

She stared straight up into the ceiling, blurred by her tears, and the single lightbulb illuminating the room while they tied her wrists above her head and forced her legs wide. The stirrups pushed into her insteps as they restrained her ankles. When they tightened the leather straps around her thighs, she bit down on her cheek until she tasted blood.

For Larry. For Larry, for Larry, for Larry.

“Fuck, Jimmy, she’s crying,” Loyt growled. He reached for her just-bound wrist as if to undo the strap, but flexed his clawed digits above the leather instead. “This ain’t right.”

“Of course she’s crying,” Jimmy sighed. “She sold her cunt. Don’t tell me you’re growing a conscience, just because the little twat’s a Breeder. The last whore you broke in sobbed like a baby while you were on her—didn’t seem to give you any pause then, hmm?”

“Jimmy, come on, man.” Irral made an agitated gesture at her teary face. “We’re not like you. We can’t fucking help it. She’s a Breeder. If she cries, we’re fucking hardwired to stop it!”

“Satan’s tits,” Jimmy growled. He returned from the table, entering her field of vision as he stepped between her and Irral. “That’s what I get for surrounding myself with primitive idiots. Get out. Go put your dicks in a bucket of ice water if your pea-sized brains need the blood supply. She’ll be ringed and begging for it soon enough, and if you two breathe another protest, you won’t get a single go on her. Understood? You want a taste of Breeder cunt, you get the hell out. Now.”