Chapter 23 Selma #2
Desperately her eyes darted over the bars and the demons outside in an attempt to find some way she could get to them, only to freeze to the spot when a black gaze locked on hers.
“Kain?”
She was vaguely aware of her mouth hanging open through the shock and continued throbbing in her nipples, clit, and throat. The crowd moved, continuing to block her full view of the owner of those black eyes, and even as she was afraid to believe, hope sprouted somewhere deep within.
Hope. She didn’t have the mental capacity to try to reason the cause of this emotion, but she recognized it as she scurried along the bars in an attempt to catch an unobstructed glimpse of the demon’s face.
“Kain!”
More words were being slung at her, but she drowned them out. They didn’t seem to care that she wasn’t responding to them; they were only preoccupied with how her scent and body affected them as they attempted to sway her in their direction.
“Everyone, return to your seats. It’s time to begin the auction.”
At Maell’s command the crowd withdrew like an ebbing tide.
Selma bit down on her already bloody lip, trying her best to stay focused when her body started trembling with need for the males to return with their addictive scent, but it was useless.
With a quiet sob she slid to the floor, her desperation to see if Kain was truly there suppressed by muted despair.
“My brothers,” Maell boomed somewhere past the hot pulse coursing through her body. “You have seen the Pure Breeder and smelled her readiness, and have been able to judge if she is a suitable match to carry your offspring. If you desire to partake in the bidding to claim her, you may remain.
“Remember the responsibility that lays on the shoulders of a Pure Breeder’s mate—her survival and comfort will be your main priority, even to the extent of abandoning your territory, should the need arise.
Nothing will be more important than procreating to aid in our battle against the traitorous females and the gods by strengthening our ranks.
“Any who do not wish to make such a sacrifice for this Breeder may leave now.”
Silence carried the echo of his words across the arena. Not one demon moved.
“Very well. Remember—killing is strictly forbidden, and if you place the winning bid, you must reactivate the Breeder’s ring before claiming her.” Once more he gestured toward Selma with a sweeping arc of his left arm. “Brothers… the auction has begun!”
Killing? Why on Earth would killing be part of an auction? Selma frowned, worry mixing with the hazed lust.
“Ten million dollars!”
The shout from the benches came from a blond demon five rows up who got to his feet with a slow, deliberate flexing of his bare chest.
Selma was nearly shocked out of her hormonal daze.
Ten million dollars? She stared open-mouthed at the male as he walked down the stairs with a saunter that subtly highlighted his perfect body control.
When he made it to the sawdust he turned to face the benches, resting his massive hands on his hips covered in tight leather pants.
It was the position of someone issuing a challenge.
“Fifteen!” Someone yelled from the benches.
The Lord who’d greeted her when she stumbled through the door—the auctioneer—nodded at the first bidder. “Do you wish to concede, raise your bid, or fight the challenger?”
The blond turned his head and smiled wickedly, his flaming green eyes catching hers for the briefest moment. “I believe the little Breeder would appreciate a fight, Maell.”
Another male stood up from one of the closer benches. He looked severe and determined as he made his way to the arena.
The moment his foot touched the sawdust, dark energy gathered in a swirling mass around the demon who’d first bid on her. With a flick of his arm it shot toward the newcomer.
The second bidder snarled and braced for the assault, raising his own dark magic to repel the attack.
The two men squared off, seemingly grabbing dark energy out of the air and hurling it at one another, leaving deep gashes bleeding onto the floor wherever it struck.
It finally ended when the blond launched himself at his opponent, and roaring like a wild beast, he pushed all the dark energy swirling around him at the other at the exact moment his fist connected with his jaw.
The newcomer didn’t block the attack swiftly enough, and when he toppled backwards, his shoulders hit the ground with a muted thump. Maell jumped in to place a strong hand on the blond demon’s shoulder just as he was about to press both hands against the fallen man’s throat.
“Eirath wins! The bid stands at ten million dollars.”
Both demons were growling, their eyes locked on each other as if they expected the other to jump at them while they slowly got to their feet.
Blood dripped from both of them, and there was no hint of Eirath’s casual arrogance when he finally took his gaze from his defeated opponent to look at her again.
His eyes were filled with something feral and terrifying, and though her clit spasmed longingly at the sight, cold terror made its way to her brain.
This was what she would be fucked by and bound to for the rest of her life—the monster underneath their disguise that clamored to possess and consume every ounce of her.
Not even her rampant lust could hide the truth of what lay hidden behind their strong muscles and addictive scent—not after seeing what was truly behind the mask.
“Twenty-five million dollars.”
The new challenger strode down from the benches. He, too, was clad in leather pants, and his hair was long and wild. He didn’t even glance at her as he made his way to the arena, choosing instead to keep his gaze locked on Eirath.
Eirath charged at him the moment he entered the arena, dark magic bursting from both men as the fight began without delay.
This time it took what felt like twenty minutes before the scale tipped in anyone’s favor.
Both demons were snarling, their naked chests heaving from their exertion. Several cuts littered both men’s bodies from a mix of the dark magic as well blows from fists, elbows, knees, and feet that would have been deadly if they were human men.
It was during one short moment, when Eliath blinked to brush away the trail of blood from his split eyebrow, that the winner was decided. The long-haired demon leapt forward, and with a spinning kick powered by dark energy, knocked the blond to the floor with his heel.
“Loman wins!” Once more the Governor placed a restrictive hand on the winner’s shoulder, undoubtedly to ensure he obeyed the “no killing” rule.
Eirath picked himself off the floor. His face was a mask of anger behind the bruises and blood, but he exited the arena with his back straight without looking at the prize he’d lost.
The bidding continued, more often than not followed by a brutal fight, and the gruesome display tore at her soul in a way even the ring couldn’t hinder.
Though watching them tear each other apart made her sick to her stomach, it also helped her hold on to her sense of self through the onslaught of her baser needs.
She abhorred violence in any other capacity than self-defense, and nothing would ever change that.
After three hours the bids had reached a staggering ninety million dollars, and the fights had grown increasingly longer, and—if possible—more vicious. Maell had even had to use his own magic to physically separate contestants more than once.
“One hundred million!” a deep voice boomed through the arena.
Hushed murmurs followed when the owner of it strode down the stairs, his gaze firmly fixed on the current winner.
“Prince Naharan,” the Governor greeted him, bowing lightly. “You honor us and the Breeder with your presence. Menor, do you wish to fight His Highness, raise your bid, or concede?”
The demon who’d won the last five fights spat in the sawdust and cracked his neck. “Fight!”
Naharan raised an eyebrow. “That is a foolish choice, brother, but it is yours to make.” Dark magic crackled in the air around the Prince when he stepped into the ring.
Menor charged at him with a roar, raising his own magic.
The two collided with a shrill screech like metal being wrought out of shape.
Selma pressed her hands against her ears to block out the sound, and hid her eyes from the dark sparks igniting in the air around the two fighting males.
When she looked up again moments later, Menor was slumped on the ground and a chunk of his shoulder was missing.
She stared at the bloody mess for five horrific seconds before she realized that Naharan had ripped a piece of his flesh out—with his teeth.
The Prince’s lips and bared teeth were bloodied, but it didn’t seem to concern him in the slightest. He flexed his shoulders to limber them after the fight, giving the demons on the benches a challenging glare before he turned around to look at her while Governor Maell helped his defeated brother out of the arena.
Naharan was the first since Eirath to pay her direct attention. This time there was no immediate bid to challenge the demon currently eyeing her like she was a piece of meat, and Selma swallowed nervously as he drew closer to the bars.
Was this it? Would this brutish beast be the one to claim her?
He looked so savage it was hardly a stretch to envision his demonic form. His head was shaved, his eyes possessed of a feral fire that made fear squirm in her stomach. He was terrifying—even more-so than the other contestants who had fought to win her, though she couldn’t say why.
“You look so soft.” His voice was gravelly, still rough from his battle cries. “I will enjoy mating you.”
The demon rested a large palm against the cage, snarling when dark sparks burned his skin at the touch, but he kept it there anyway. “Right here, in front of everyone who wasn’t worthy enough to win you. You will be my prize, Breeder.”
At least he would touch her ring first until she lost the ability to feel anything but hunger for him. Selma closed her eyes, refusing to see the look of triumph on his face when the Governor declared him the winner. Of her. His prize.
“Three hundred million dollars.”
The voice cut through the arena, shattering the muted silence after the last fight.
Now the murmur that rose from the crowd was far from muted, and the prince hissed. She heard the swish of his pants as he spun around to meet the new opponent.
Even Maell seemed mildly astonished for a moment, but then gathered himself again. “The bid is at three hundred million! Your Highness, do you choose to concede, raise the bid, or—”
“Fight!” Naharan snarled. “And win.”
Selma opened her eyes again now that he wasn’t so close and glanced at the benches to see who’d made the bid. The numbers the challengers slung out had all been outlandish to her, but the leap to three hundred million was outrageous, even if what he sought to buy was her life.
The big male who moved down the stairs with an ease speaking of carefully controlled strength made her breath catch in her throat.
“Kain,” she whispered.
He was there. He’d come.
For her.