by Nora Ash
The irony of his assurance against being exploited by demons he found unworthy, considering what he’d said about selling her at an auction, was not lost on Selma, but she found it wisest not to comment.
“Is that why that group attacked the other girl?” she asked, thinking back to the miserable event that had led to her current predicament. “They wanted to breed her?”
“No, she was just a regular human.” He glanced down at her, clearly not happy about discussing matters that could be upsetting, but humoring her curiosity nonetheless. “With the lack of Breeders we occasionally find release with human women; we can sway their minds so they don’t resist too much, and forget any discomfort after.”
There was no hiding the shock of horror rushing through her system at his explanation. “That’s disgusting! Why the rape? Why not just... seduce women?”
“Some prefer that. Many enjoy the power play. The females usually do get pleasure regardless, of course; it is really more forced seduction than outright rape in most cases.”
Selma recalled the girl’s terrified eyes when she’d been pressed up against the metal wall, surrounded by disguised monsters. It’d seemed an awful lot like rape to her. “Why don’t you just be with your own females?” Surely they would be built to withstand the males’ ridged anatomy more easily than human women.
His handsome face turned grim. “We are at war; any female demon we impregnate will always choose to carry a daughter to increase their numbers. That’s why we need human Breeders—you will only give us sons.”
She blinked, not sure how much more information she could manage without having a complete freak-out, ruining her plan for keeping him soothed, so instead of asking more questions she simply buried her face against his chest and breathed deeply trying to use his pheromones to calm down.
“The scar on your calf,” he said, stroking fingers through her hair to aid her attempt at self-soothing. “The female responsible must have realized what you would become and decided to ensure we’d get one less chance at reproducing once you matured.”
She frowned, her mind whirling with memories despite his delicious scent. “If she knew, didn’t the other demons I stared at know too? Why didn’t you... take me in before?” She barely managed avoiding the word ‘kidnapped’.
“No civilized demon would touch a child. It’s in our best interest that our future mates have as natural an upbringing as possible with the ability you have. You make for much better mothers if we leave you with your parents to learn about family,” he said, smiling softly at her when she blinked at the odd concept of honor they seemed to uphold. At least, some of them. “Of course, not all abide by this rule, which is why you’ve had unpleasant experiences when younger, even from males.”
“They always went away after a while,” she said, thinking back to the terrifying times a monster had stalked her when she was a child. “Why?”
“The Lord of your area was informed, and the perpetrators executed. Even potential Breeders are not to be harassed in any way.”
The grim satisfaction of knowing that the worst of her childhood nightmares had been sentenced to death startled her; she’d never been a violent person, and wishing ill on anybody was far from her nature. But of course; these creatures had not exactly been kindhearted in any way.
The gentle squeeze as Marathín’s hand traveled down to her rear again told her that he’d picked up on her more aggressive emotions—and apparently appreciated them.
“I tracked down your old file—you were in the archives as a strong potential until you reportedly stopped seeing us at age 17.” He gave her a light pinch. “Little trickster. We would have taken you in on your 21st birthday if you hadn’t convinced everyone that you simply grew out of a mental instability. You would have been mated and likely on your second child by now.”
The unexpected warmth that spread from somewhere in her chest at the thought of babies—the hormones he’d spurred in her certainly weren’t subtle—gave her the window she’d been quietly waiting for. She sucked in a deep breath, partly to calm herself on his scent, partly to muster her courage.
“Marathín, I want to be yours.” She whispered it against his chest, but the stilling of his body told her that she had been heard.
A moment’s silence and then …
“I beg your pardon?” The drugged lethargy was wiped clean from his voice, but he didn’t manage to hide a sliver of shock, though he was clearly trying to regain the composed mask he’d let slip the moment they’d joined.
Selma breathed in deep and slow, focusing her mind on the pleasure he’d given her before peeking up at him. “I want to be yours,” she repeated.
He propped himself halfway up on his elbows, looking down at her with a frown. His nostrils twitched a little, as if he was trying to detect deceit. Fortunately, her scent was littered with sated pheromones and the soft hum of her body’s blissful submission to him.
“That’s not how it works, sweetheart.” His voice was soft, the regret evident even through the attempt at concealing his true emotions. “I’m no Lord—you are meant for someone higher up.”
“Please, no.” The shudder of disgust at the mere thought of being touched by someone else was genuine. “I know I was meant to be yours. I want you. Please don’t give me away; I couldn’t bear it.”
Amber eyes narrowed slightly. “And why is that, now?” He grabbed her chin with one hand, resting fully on the other elbow as he lifted her gaze to meet his. “Not hours ago you couldn’t get far enough away from me.”
“That was before...” She lowered her lashes, not wanting to accidentally give anything away under his scrutinizing gaze. “Before you showed me what it meant to belong to you. I don’t want anyone else to do those things to me... but... the way you made me feel was... I’ve never... It feels like I belong with you.” That part was true; her blissed-out hormones had been happily humming about submitting to the intimidating male and binding herself to him ever since he’d penetrated her the first time. She knew that that was purely due to the mark’s influence and it didn’t sway her deep-felt distrust of the man, but it did provide enough truth—and a happy thrum in her traitorous body at the thought of belonging to the beast that had ridden her to exhaustion—that he shouldn’t detect deceit in her.
Something must have resonated with him, because he lay back down with a sigh, wrapping both arms tightly around her. “It’s the hormones,” he mumbled, though his voice was wistful. “It will pass in some hours.”
Her heart picked up speed some; he believed her! She had a chance at getting away! With a soft noise of denial she rubbed her nose against the few dark curls on his chest, placing pecks along the way. She felt him shiver and smiled; she certainly wasn’t the only slave to whatever voodoo nonsense the brand had done to her hormones.
“I don’t think it is. I... desired you before, as well. I was just so frightened of everything. I still am.” There was no point in denying it—he’d be able to sense the underlying fear. “But mostly, I’m scared you’ll give me away.”
“You speak beautiful words, my sweet. Words I desire.” He let a hand stroke down her back, trailing the fingers along her spine. “Though, even if they are truthful, there is the matter of my standing. Keeping a Breeder from the Lords is treason, and then there is my allegiance to my kin; it is infinitely more important to secure a Lord’s offspring than my own.”
“But I want your children, not some Lord’s.” She dared another look up at him, trying to convey the longing from the baser parts of her body through her eyes. “Please Marathín. Is there no way? Would they have to know that I am a... a pure Breeder? You didn’t, before you examined me, right?”
The demon lifted his head again, propping himself up on his elbows once more to return her gaze. His face was pensive as the silence stretched between them for several minutes.
“There are... ways,” he finally said, eyes not leaving her face. “Favors, I can call in, should I need to. Though, do yo
u understand what you are asking, my beautiful? If I were to do this, you would be mine for a lifetime—a lifetime that would be extended well beyond normal human years. And I... I would be committing treason—a crime punishable by death. Should it ever get out, my life would be forfeit and you would be auctioned off and separated from any children born to me.”
It was impossible not to feel the weight of his words, even though she had no intentions of staying with him long enough to conceive children. A small flicker of guilt for deceiving him when he was willing to risk his life for her was quickly squashed. He had kidnapped and manipulated her, and intended on keeping her in a life of sexual slavery; he did not deserve her pity.
“I will do whatever I have to, to stay with you.” She lifted a hand and stroked his hair where the horns had been. “Anything and everything.”
Something flickered at the back of his eyes, something uncomfortably similar to the sinister looks he’d given her before their mating. “Anything?”
Swallowing once, she nodded. There was no point in denying any promises, if they could help her escape, but that look was enough to remind her that, behind the blissful afterglow, he was a demon, with all that that might entail.
“Very well.” He sat up slowly, making her twist and straighten until she knelt over his lap with his arms loosely around her waist. “I will give us both the night to think this through. If, in the morning, when the hormones have lifted, you still feel this way, I will make... arrangements.”
“Thank you.” The tears rimming her eyes when she leaned her head against his shoulder were real; she would be free soon.
Soft lips ghosted against her messy hair. “Your relief warms me, my sweet.”
She smiled and pecked his shoulder in response, but before she could voice a reply her gaze was caught by his softened cock as it rested against her pubic mound where she was straddling him. Even in its flaccid state it looked disproportionately large, and the ridges she hadn’t seen before he had buried himself in her seemed intimidatingly prominent.
With a somewhat shaky hand she reached down and let a finger follow the bumps around the rim of the head. How had she not been torn in half by this… this thing?
“Don’t do that.” The rumbling voice carried a husky tune as he grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand away. “You are not ready to be mated again just yet, and I don’t want to risk hurting you.”
His words, and the suddenly stirring thing against her groin, made her aware of the dull ache between her legs. Up until now she hadn’t noticed it thanks to the happy hum of pacifying hormones rushing through her bloodstream, but with the reminder of just how tasking it’d been to take him came an agonized protest from her still-tender pussy at the thought of a repeat.
“Don’t wipe my seed away before the morning—it will help soothe any lingering discomfort.” Marathín grabbed her by the hips and, without any signs of strain, lifted her up while rising to his own feet. “It is late and you need rest, my sweet. We will talk again tomorrow.”
Selma nodded silently, accepting the discarded clothes he’d picked up from the floor before handing them to her. She leaned against the nearby wall for support, as her legs and stiff abdomen were rather unhelpful, and got dressed just in time to turn around and see Marathín give up on zipping his pants.
He caught her looking and smiled teasingly, brushing a hand over his now button-less shirt and half-closed pants. “It is my own fault for stirring a Breeder without having a change of clothes available.”
She flushed at the memory of ripping at him like a banshee, but her self-conscious thoughts were interrupted when he pulled her in for a deep kiss. The heat from him sparked the setting endorphins and she melted into his embrace with a soft whimper. Demon or not, he felt like nothing else ever had before.
“Even if you wake up and regret your words tonight, I will always be grateful, little Breeder,” he whispered when they separated again.
“I won’t regret them.” She grabbed his large hands. “I am yours.”
He smiled softly. “I hope you are, but we will see. You are still high on hormones. Come, my sweet; let us get you back.”
They walked slowly through the corridors to her room, Marathín’s strong arm never wavering from her shoulders as he supported her shaky form. The strain from the mating made walking laborious, and thoughts of how she was going to escape when she could barely walk the five minutes to her room made her grit her teeth in frustration. The night was young, though; she would have time to rest before she ran, and that was if he left her door unlocked tonight. She might have to wait until the following night, after she’d convinced him that she truly did want to be his.
When they finally reached her room she was more than ready to lie down and sleep.
Marathín opened her door and, after pecking the top of her head, ushered her inside as if he had walked her home after a date. “You look about ready to pass out, sweetheart. Go rest. The nurse will bring you up for the scheduled appointment tomorrow, where we will determine what happens next. I will see you then.”
“How?” she blurted out, looking up at the tall demon through the doorway. “How will you decide if it is just hormones that make me want you?”
He paused for a moment, one large hand resting on the doorknob. “I will fuck you again. Only this time, I will not touch your mark. If you submit willingly and with pleasure, I will trust that your words are not colored by hormonal interference. I know that a mating unassisted by the mark’s influence will be rough on you this early on, but if I am to commit treason I cannot take any chances. I trust you understand?”
She didn’t know how she managed to nod, but she did, and he gave her a final smile in response.
“Goodnight, Selma.”
The thud of the door closing was followed by a heavy click as he locked it from the outside, the sharp sound of her fate being sealed cutting through her stupor.
If she didn’t find pleasure without the mark’s influence, she would get ripped apart by his brutal anatomy.
* * *
Hunted
Hunted
Despite the worry roiling in her stomach she’d slept soundly through the night, her exhausted body overriding her mind’s anxiety. Apparently, getting fucked into a stupor did wonders for your REM cycle.
Selma stared blankly up at the ceiling as last night’s endeavor replayed in her mind, the moment the dreamless sleep fully released her from its grip had dread clawing its way back into her conscience when she remembered what was expected of her today. What he expected.
She would have to submit her body and pray he wouldn’t damage her; pray her already battered pussy would somehow be able to find enough pleasure in being ridden without the drug-like haze of the mark to spark the hormones he needed to scent to trust her.
Groaning from the pain shooting through every stiff muscle she struggled to sit up—the ‘checkup’ she’d been booked for was shortly after breakfast, and she needed to shower and somehow calm down before the nurse came with her meal.
She shoved the duvet aside and, wincing, swung her legs over the side of the bed. White streaks of dried semen had crusted on her inner thighs, and she had no doubt that the rest of her appearance would cause an even remotely caring member of staff to ask several questions. Selma shuddered at the thought, the demon’s words ringing clear in her memory. He would silence anyone who thought to intervene, and she couldn’t bear the thought of some innocent person dying for showing concern for her well-being.
So, she had to continue playing the game she’d set in motion.
Carefully, she shifted her weight to her feet and pushed off the bed. Her muscles protested violently, and she groaned in agony at the effort to keep up straight. However, the place that should have hurt the most—her violated core—seemed... perfectly fine. The muscles were tired, she could tell from the lax feeling, but there was no pain.
Gingerly, she squeezed her pelvic muscles to test the waters further, but they re
acted as they should, albeit slower than normal.
Huh. The semen he’d told her not to rinse off before bed must’ve really been healing. Just poor luck that it didn’t do anything for the rest of her battered body.
Staggering, her stiff muscles protesting every step, she made her way to the bathroom and managed to get out of the shirt and panties she’d slept in before stepping under the blessedly warm spray of the shower.
The relief to her aching form was instant, and she moaned with pleasure as the hot water worked on her stiffened limbs and back, washing the dried-up evidence of Dr. Hershey’s indiscretions off in the process.
She stood there until a firm knock rapped against the bathroom door, and Nurse Marie entered with no further warning.
The friendly woman rounded on her, a minor frown on her face as she ensured that her patient was not in the process of self-harming in any way.
“How long have you been in there, child? Your skin is starting to prune up.”
Child. Selma estimated that they were about the same age, but being a patient at a mental institution tended to strip you of any authority. She turned off the spray and attempted a smile.
“Oh, too long I’m sure. I always liked my hot showers. I’ll be out in a minute.”
The other woman stayed put, staring at her naked body. “How did you get those?”
Selma looked down, following the nurse’s gaze, and blanched. On each hip nearly-black finger shaped outlines from where Marathín had held her when he took her from behind bruised her pale skin.
“Er …” She quickly grabbed the towel from the hook next to the shower and wrapped it around herself. “I think I got them from... from the attack.”
Marie’s kind eyes narrowed. “No, you didn’t; you did not have them when you arrived here—they would have been noted in your chart. Where did you get them from, Selma? Has someone hurt you?”
“No!” It came out too quickly, and she could see the blooming concern spreading on the nurse’s face. Damn it. She needed her to stop the questions now, to make absolutely certain that she did not risk being silenced by the zealous demon.