Kirigan hadn’t brokered peace with diplomacy.

He’d traded her for it.

46

Kirigan

Kirigan had liked the city, once upon a time. The noise and human decay had proven decadent hunting grounds and, as all demons, he’d been happy to indulge.

Nowadays, it was all static. Relentless impressions against his fraying mind.

He didn’t sit as he stared out the window at the bustling life outside, at the humans going about their lives. He hadn’t sat for hours. Not because he was tense. He didn’t feel tension. He simply didn’t trust what might surface if he allowed his body to relax. Right now, there was no room for the madness. No room to lose his grip on the carefully laid dominoes, lest one fall over too soon and spoil the picture.

Governor Maell entered behind him. No fanfare. They hadn’t bothered with that in centuries.

Kirigan didn’t look over. “I’ve heard what I needed to.”

Maell stepped further into the room. “They’re unified. Lords who haven’t been able to share a battlefield now trade intelligence. Half the court is tapping surveillance webs that haven’t been touched in years. Even the Lord of Nevada is in.”

Kirigan’s jaw flexed once. His gaze tracked a mother pushing a stroller on the pavement below, unaware she was passing so close to a demonic court.

Maell poured a drink from the dusty cart by the wall. “The Breeder was a catalyst. They’ll follow Kain blindly now. Whoever took her did more for your son’s consolidation of power than a decade of rule.”

Kirigan kept still. The darkness tightened around his spine. “Convenient.”

Maell watched him over the rim of the glass. “Yes. Almost suspiciously so.”

The mother disappeared around a corner. Kirigan finally turned around to look at the governor. Flat. Unblinking.

Maell didn’t press it, only leaned back against the edge of the bar cart. “I suppose, even if she were to turn up somewhere… unfortunate, say, mated to one of our enemies… she would be out of reach for good. This would likely keep them united under Kain’s rule. He did offer her to them, after all. If someone managed to sneak her out under their collective noses, Kesh can’t very well be blamed for losing her.”

Kirigan didn’t respond. The silence sank between them. Then his phone buzzed. The screen lit up.

Kain.

He extended a hand. “Leave me.”

Maell didn’t argue. He studied him for half a second too long, then slipped from the room.

Kirigan answered, pressing the phone to his ear. “Kain. You have heard—the Pure Breeder has been⁠—”

“Kesh is gone.”

Kirigan’s breath stilled.

Kain’s voice was taut, clipped. “He’s already in the air. Headed for Rome. He took a jet, shot me a text from over the Atlantic. The Europeans have her. They’re gonna auction her tonight. I called, told him to wait, to let us plan… He said ‘no’, then hung up. Hasn’t picked up since.”

A silence settled. The kind that didn’t hum, didn’t echo—just expanded.

Something unfamiliar tightened in Kirigan's chest.

He hadn’t planned for this.

He’d expected Kesh to be furious, for his instincts to send him into a frenzy. But once the trail turned cold and his hormones had burned out, He would return to his duties.

The carefully aligned dominoes hadn’t been laid out with this outcome as a possibility. For his son to act as if the Breeder was…

No. It couldn’t be love. That would make the risk incalculable. That would mean… he’d gambled his youngest son’s life in exchange for his eldest’s.

“He’s going to get himself killed,” Kain continued, voice rougher now. “I’m going to get him, before it’s too late. I need you to take over all official duties until I’m back. Tomren will help with all administrative tasks. I’ve already briefed him⁠—”

“No.” His voice cut through with enough snap to make Kain stop talking. No. No, no, no. The tightness in his chest clenched at his lungs, and something cold crept up from his tailbone. Not one son’s life gambled. Both. “You can’t⁠—”

“I’m coming with you." It was Selma's voice now, coming from close to Kain. "If you go alone, you’ll die, too, and I’m not about to let that happen. Besides, I owe Kesh for helping me save you last year. So yes, I’m going. You need me, you need my magic, and you need my Stone of Power.” Her voice was bright and razor-sharp, and had a tone of ruthless commitment Kirigan had heard before.

“Selma—” Kain began.

“Enough.” Kirigan barked. “You will both stay where you are. I will retrieve Kesh. Alive. You have my word. Do not follow. Do not abandon your responsibilities here—or your child. I will fix this.”

“Kiri—”

He hung up before Selma could finish her protest.

He would. Fix it. The mistake of not accounting for the true strength of Kesh’s attachment to the Breeder was his.

The dominoes were already falling. But he’d lay down another path—bend the line back, if he had to. He wasn’t about to let either of his sons die for his miscalculation.

47

Georgia

The door shut behind the prince with a soft click. He’d brought her to an opulent suite, with gold and marble on every surface, and a view of the ancient city through the large windows that would have stolen her breath during any other circumstance.

“Come, Breeder. Eat. You will need your strength tonight.” The demon led her by his grip on her arm to an overstuffed sofa, where a platter of food was laid out on the glass-and-marble coffee table in front of it. Piles of sliced meat, bowls of olives, loaves of honey-smeared bread. None of it did anything but turn her stomach.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Unfortunate that you will still need to eat,” he said, with no inflection of regret. “Sit.”

She considered refusing. Her eyes slid from the platter of food to the prince, who was simply watching her—waiting for the rebellion.

Georgia sat. There was no point in fighting, not about this. Possibly not about anything at all anymore.

She didn’t eat. Not until the prince sat down next to her, picked up a piece of bread between two fingers, and pushed it to her lips. “Open.”

She hesitated for a second, then obeyed. The food tasted like ash, and Aragalan’s satisfied expression, when his fingers brushed her lips and she began mechanically chewing, raised goosebumps of revulsion along her skin. And still, she ate.

Memories of the first time Kesh fed her tried to surface. She didn’t let them.

Mouthful after mouthful slid down her throat, tasteless and invasive.

“You’re beautiful like this,” Aragalan purred, his black eyes turning hooded as they greedily swept over her face and lingered on her mouth. He forced a green olive between her lips and rumbled something akin to a purr when she accepted it. “Submissive. My father tells me my mother took a few weeks before she surrendered fully, but that won’t be a problem with you, will it? Your weakness seems fused into your blood from birth, hmm?”

Georgia glared at him as he pressed another olive—black this time—to her mouth, but there was little fire left in her gaze. “That’s truly what you desire? A hollow shell by your side? Your mother birthed you, and yet you are content to see her like she’s nothing more than a meat puppet for your father to use? That’s all you want out of your wife? A mindless husk?”

“Wife.” The word came out on a mocking rumble. Aragalan swiped his thumb over her lips, then dropped his hand to her thigh, squeezing high. “A truly human concept. You will be my mate, little Breeder. Your sole purpose will be to spread your legs, to receive me, and to birth my heirs.”