“I can’t go with you until I know Larry will be okay. Perhaps after⁠—”

“Once he’s been healed, I won’t be able to get you out. The second the contract’s complete, Jimmy owns you. There is no escaping him after that. So we go—now—or you will have to stay here. Forever.” Irral held out his hand toward her, his frightening features softening into something like a plea. “Trust me when I tell you that no one is worth the fate that awaits your here, Breeder. Not even this brother of yours.”

Her pulse throbbed in her throat as she stared at his offered hand. She couldn’t choose her own life over her brother’s. It felt… so wrong to even contemplate it. But the horror creeping up her spine at the demon’s plea was hard to push down.

“Look, I am taking you to the Prince of Demons. He is the strongest of our kind on the Eastern Seaboard, and he will make sure you are protected. You can bargain with him for your sibling, if you must,” Irral said, urgency coloring his words. “But you cannot stay here. Come with me.”

6

Kesh

“There’s a demon at the gates who insists on seeing you. Says it’s urgent.”

Kesh sighed deeply, pulling his attention from the war map he’d been trying to update with the latest news of their enemies’ movements.

“More urgent than stopping the Europeans from taking Maine?” Kesh asked, his voice deceptively gentle.

Mallorn, accustomed to his lord’s ways, took a slight step back, bringing him out of arm’s reach. “I said you were busy. I more than hinted at what happened to the last underling who claimed an emergency and found you disagreed. He still insists.”

Kesh growled, scrunching the map in his fist as irritation flared hotly. “Do these fools not realize the importance of what we’re doing? How fucking close we are to annihilation? Why must they pester me with their petty squabbles? Who do I have to disembowel to get some peace?”

“Weight of the crown, I’m afraid,” Mallon said, infuriatingly uncowed by his lord’s anger. “He’s waiting outside the throne room.”

Kesh shot him a glare and straightened up. “Fine. Take five troops to Maine. Tell our warriors I’m sorry I can’t help take down the invaders—I have a fucking contract dispute to settle, or whatever the hell it is this time.”

The throne room still looked like the casino it had been up until recently. His men had done a decent job at taking out the gambling tables and slot machines, but the bar still remained along the eastern wall, and the stains of alcohol and stench of desperation weren’t coming out of the carpet no matter how many times Mallorn had had it dry cleaned.

Kesh strode to the throne—and imposing chair bolted to the hastily constructed dais—and slung himself down, propping a foot on one armrest as he drummed his irritation into the other.

This was the part of the job he hated the most. If he’d known how much time he’d have to spend playing referee for minor demons bitching about someone screwing them over in contract negotiations, or listen to some lord or another wax poetic about how he thought the Kingdom should be run—or, stars forbid, try to curry favor with the prince—there was no way Kesh would have helped his brother claim the Americas.

“Right. Send him in,” he growled, motioning for the man guarding the door to open it.

The guard obeyed, pulling the painted-over glass door open with more pomp and circumstance than the situation required. Kesh swallowed his annoyance—the guy was doing his job. Ceremony was part of the illusion needed to claim a kingdom.

The man who entered looked like your standard low demon, more muscle than true power. Not exactly known for their interest in contracts. And one hundred percent not capable of having the sort of problems that’d be worthy of Kesh’s attention.

“What do you want?” Kesh growled, staring holes through the demon’s skull as he imagined hanging him from the rafters by his tongue.

“I… I bring you a gift, your Highness.” The slight quake in his voice betrayed his unease at standing before the prince.

“A gift?” an outraged voice squawked. “What the hell do you mean, a gift?”

Kesh blinked, focusing on the human girl he’d barely noticed when the demon first entered. She was tall, for a human female, with unkempt dark hair, dark circles under her eyes and something between terror and fury plastered across her pale features.

“A gift?” he parroted, turning his attention back to the demon. “You demand an audience with the Prince of Demons to give me a human? Have you lost your mind?”

“She’s a Breeder, Highness,” the demon said. “I wouldn’t have disturbed you from your important work if she wasn’t in desperate need of your protection.”

Kesh blinked again, his gaze turning back to the female. “A Breeder?”

“Yes, my lord.” The demon pushed the girl forward, despite her obvious reluctance. “I… found her. She sees us for what we are.”

“And you didn’t keep her?” Kesh arched an eyebrow, but kept his gaze on the girl, who was staring back at him, chin thrust out in defiance despite her wide eyes betraying her terror.

“N-no, my lord. That would be treason. I would never⁠—”

Kesh silenced him with a raised hand. He knew the fucking laws—his brother had written them.

A Breeder.

He sent his Breeder sister-in-law a less than grateful thought. She might be the new queen, but she was also a gigantic pain in the ass. And the reason for the whole bloody war.

But of course, Selma was a Pure Breeder—the only human females capable of not only surviving sex with a demon lord, but also carrying his spawn. This sorry little thing might be exactly what he didn’t need to deal with right now, but at least she’d be out of his hands soon enough.

If she even was a Breeder.

“If you consider me worthy, Your Highness, I would be most grateful to be considered among her suitors,” the brawny demon said.

“I’m sure you would.” Kesh sighed deeply and scrubbed a hand over his face, wishing his idiot brother hadn’t rewritten the laws concerning Breeders, and motioned for her to step forward with a flick of two fingers. “Come on. Let’s have a look, then.”

The girl didn’t move—only kept her blue eyes locked on him, the stubborn set of her chin wobbling.

Kesh narrowed his eyes at her disobedience. He leaned forward on the throne and ground through gritted teeth, “Come. Here. Now.”

She stumbled a step forward, as if jerked along by a chain, and Kesh leaned back, his smoldering temper calming ever so slightly.

The girl paused for a second, but the command in his gaze made her continue forward and up the dais, one hesitant step at a time until she stood in front of him. Her body shook ever so slightly as she stared at him, and her fear wafted against his nostrils, stirring a delicate sensation of unrest in his gut.

Ugh. Not a promising start.

Kesh pushed his foot off the armrest and reached for the girl. She might be taller than most human females, but she still only came to around eye-height with him when he was seated.

Her eyes went impossibly wider at the approach of his hand, and she tried to jerk away with a startled squeak, but she wasn’t nearly fast enough. Kesh wrapped his fingers around her throat and brought her closer, ignoring her clawing to get out of his grip.

He pushed his index finger up, forcing the girl’s head up and to the side, and buried his nose in her exposed neck.

Instantly, his senses were alight with a wash of scents, smells of other demons, hospitals. Human decay and chemicals clawed at his throat. But behind that…

Kesh closed his eyes and drew in another deep breath, his skin prickling with the sensation of her hair brushing against his face. Her fear was the strongest of the scents that belonged to her and not other pollutants she’d come across. It was thick and acrid and made him growl before he could stop himself.