Chapter 22 - Kain
Kain
Deceitful, traitorous, cunning little bitch!
Kain roared and punched yet another hole in his living room wall before tossing the letter to the floor. Governor Maell had sent out the invitation to her auction, and the arrival of it had sent his already spiraling mood into another fit of rage.
Ever since the Agents had taken Selma from his side, he’d been alternating between anger at her for lying to him and a nearly insurmountable desire to kick in the Governor’s door and rescue the cursed little Breeder so she would be safe.
He knew what had to happen to prepare a Breeder for auction, and the mere thought of it made bile rise in his throat.
Panting, Kain leaned against the ruined wall. He knew how scared Selma would be during the few lucid moments they’d allow her to have. She’d risked everything to avoid this exact fate—the fate Kain had promised he would protect her from.
He still remembered her cries for him as they took her away. Why did she have to be a fucking Pure Breeder?
A snarl made its way up his throat as he recalled those cursed words leaving her lips. She’d pleaded to stay by his side, promised she’d no longer run. He knew they’d been lies spurred by her desperation to avoid an auction, much like she’d lied to him in her failure to mention what she truly was.
Kain understood why she’d lied—he’d been a tool she could use to ensure her freedom, but she would’ve been dumb to entrust him with that particular secret.
He was a demon Lord, after all. She wasn’t going to risk him going back on his word, tying her to his side with a mate claim despite his promise to set her free.
No, the anger churning in his gut wasn’t because she’d lied. But acknowledging the true cause…
He grimaced and fisted his hands tightly as a wave of intense longing rolled through him powerful enough to make his body shake.
Every cell in his body had craved her with an intensity like hellfire from the first moment he laid eyes on her, had craved to fuck her, protect her…
claim her. And it’d been bearable while he’d believed he never could, that forcing his cock inside of her would cause his innate magic to turn her to ash and bloody pulp in his grip.
But now…
He glared at the letter beckoning him to come bid on the pretty girl he’d promised to keep safe, the yearning deep in his gut making it impossible to ignore how much he wanted to win her. Possess her.
He was furious with her for being a Pure Breeder, not for lying about it. When she’d just been a regular Breeder on the run, he could pretend like the longing for her from the very core of his being stemmed purely from hormones and that there was nothing he could do about it.
Now he was forced to acknowledge that she could be his. He could win her. Claim her. Possess her. And by all the stars in the sky, he fucking wanted to.
Which was the problem.
He’d sworn to never, ever claim a mate—just the thought of tying a Breeder to his side made him ill. It was all primitive urges, something he’d made sure would never dictate his life until Selma waltzed into his territory.
Selma. Just her fucking name made him shiver with need.
It was more than just the instinct to claim and protect.
Her gentle spirit, the way she’d obviously ached for his loss when he told her about his mother…
Something in those chocolate brown eyes spoke to him more than he would ever willingly admit.
Even the way she’d back-talked him like no one else ever dared had increased his fondness for the girl.
Just the thought of having her by his side loosened the tight coil in his chest that’d been there as far back as he could remember.
But she didn’t want to be mated to a demon. She was desperate to be free, exactly like his mother had been, and he would rather die than go through a loss like that again.
He couldn’t claim her, even if he got the fuck over himself.
A soft knock on the door pulled his thoughts back to the present.
“What?” he snarled at the wood bearing his claw marks. Not one of his underlings had dared to disturb him since he returned, his dark mood hanging over his entire territory like a black cloud.
“Let me in, Kain.”
Thomren. No one else would dare to address him so informally, let alone make demands of him.
“No locks are stopping you from entering,” he growled, the challenge dripping off every word.
Thomren heaved a sigh, but instead of responding, he pushed the door handle down and slowly peeked in at the destruction in Kain’s office. “Oh, my.”
Kain glared at him. “What do you want?”
His second nodded at the crumpled letter on the floor. “To talk to you about that. I know the auction invitations went out.”
“Out of respect for the pregnant Breeder you have at home, I will say this once: Get. Out.” Kain flexed his hands, tempering the dark surge of anger simmering to be let out.
Thomren sighed again, his lips flattening to a thin line. “If you must take your anger out on me—if that’s what it’ll take to hear me—then so be it. I serve you, but you are also my friend. You need to go to this auction.”
“You know I can’t,” he growled. “You of all people know.”
Thomren nodded. “I know why you swore you wouldn’t claim a Breeder, but this girl…
Kain, you haven’t been right since you came home without her.
Everyone can see it, and we need you here.
The females are on the warpath and your head isn’t in the game.
Without you, the northern border is vulnerable. ”
Kain snarled, slamming his palm against the doorframe right by Thomren’s head. The rush of rage at a challenge to his leadership was a soothing balm that momentarily distracted him from his misery.
“You presume to tell me I’m failing my obligations to my territory? To my face?!”
“Aren’t you?” Thomren visibly steeled himself as Kain’s lip drew up in warning, but he still continued. “When did you last patrol anything but the area near the warehouse where we found her? The females aren’t dumb enough to go back there. We need you north—umph!”
His voice died on a grunt as Kain grabbed him by the collar, pulled him into the room, and slammed him against the nearest wall.
“Don’t you dare tell me how to run my territory! I am your Lord, and I govern these lands!” Darkness welled within him, flooding through the hand twisted in Thomren’s shirt and into the other man. Blood trickled from the lesser demon’s nostrils, ears, and the corners of his mouth.
“Kain,” Thomren grunted, placing a hand on his Lord’s chest. But instead of fighting to break the connection that was harming him, his touch was gentle. “I know your longing. I know what it’s doing to you. When I saw Meredith, I knew she was mine, and I bid more than I had to claim her.
“You gave me the remaining balance; you saved me from losing her when it came time to pay up. And that’s why I’m here. You need to claim that girl. For your territory, for your own sanity—but also for her.
“She’s the first Pure Breeder to be auctioned since your mother. Every unmated Lord is going to be at that auction—I’ve even heard rumors that Prince Naharan may bid this time. And if you don’t claim her… one of them will.”
“It won’t matter to her who claims her,” Kain hissed. “She hates us all the same.”
“Even if that’s true… it’ll matter to you, friend.” Thomren’s voice was strained, blood seeping faster from his orifices now. He wouldn’t remain conscious much longer.
With an effort of will, Kain stepped back, breaking the physical connection to his underling. “Go.”
Thomren staggered, clearly fighting to remain on his feet. He rubbed his throat with a shaky hand. “Kain—”
“Go! Before I change my mind.”
With a regretful look in his direction, Thomren finally stumbled out of the office, leaving him alone with his thoughts once more.
Kain pushed off the wall and began pacing the room, hoping to calm his throbbing head just a little. Somewhere past his fury, he recognized Thomren’s bravery—and his loyalty—for doing what he did, and that was the only reason he’d let him live despite his insubordinance.
Kain growled at the empty room as his friend’s words echoed in his mind. The Breeder would be auctioned no matter what he did now. In less than a week, Selma would be on her hands and knees underneath whichever Lord won her, and that Lord’s claim would be seared into her for eternity.
His knuckles itched with the urge to punch something—or someone.
Sure, he could go to the Governor’s manor and bid on the girl, but she would be just as miserable with him as she would with someone else.
She’d proven that when she’d lied to him about what she was.
She hadn’t trusted him—she’d manipulated him to escape.
And just the thought of being the cause of her pretty eyes dimming the way his mother’s had made his lungs constrict.
The letter lay innocently on the floor, tormenting him with its neatly curved writing. One week. One week, and she would belong to someone else.