Chapter 33 Selma
Selma
The pleasant scent of male musk slowly penetrated her consciousness as sleep released its hold on her. She was warm and comfortable, and the feeling of hard, sculpted flesh by her side made her feel safe. Home.
Selma nuzzled in closer against her mate and was rewarded with a sleepy rumble that sounded just like it should, but also… not.
Before she’d managed to push away the haze of drowsiness, the big male by her side rolled over, letting a large hand stroke down over her hip and in between her thighs, then up against her clothed sex in an unmistakable suggestion.
A myriad of images and sensations coagulated in her mind in the span of a split-second—Marathin touching her, spreading her apart, trying to force his way inside of her.
“No!” She fought wildly against the questing hand, punching and kicking until the man in her bed rolled away with a startled grunt.
Relief mixed with flashes of a broken skull and brain matter splattered across the tarmac, and she only just managed to scramble to the edge of the bed before she vomited.
The rest of last night’s memories finally set in while she dry heaved. She was in Kain’s father’s home—not among enemies.
“Are you certain he’s dead?” Kesh’s voice was so gravelly with restrained fury it set the hairs at the back of her neck on edge.
Forcing a deep breath, she rubbed both hands against her eyes, slowly regaining control of herself.
What Marathin had tried to do to her last night hadn’t been much different from the first time he’d taken her against her will—except it had.
But what she’d done to him was so much worse, and so very satisfying.
Selma drew in another deep breath and lowered her hands, her frantic heartbeat calming as she replayed the grim satisfaction of murdering her molester until the horror released its grip on her body.
“Yeah. I’m certain.”
Kesh let out a breath behind her, and she got the fleeting impression that he was disappointed with that answer. He had likely been hoping to murder the offender himself.
She looked over her shoulder, and sure enough Kain’s handsome brother was frowning, an air of agitation rolling off him.
He seemed to pull it together when her gaze caught his, rolling his shoulders with a grimace. “All right. Well, if you’re done puking, we best get this over with. Do you have a preferred position?”
Selma blinked. “Position for what?”
Kesh arched an eyebrow at her, his expression suggesting he was starting to suspect she was clinically slow. “To be mounted.”
She stared at him, his words not quite making sense until she remembered his hand between her legs.
“Are you… Are you actually serious right now? You’re my mate’s brother, for fuck’s sake! I’m not sleeping with you, and if you try and force me, so help me I’ll end you!”
Perhaps it should have been fear that gripped her when she realized his intentions. He was so much bigger than Marathin and so much stronger. But the feeling of power still tickled in her palms, as if her body was reminding her that she would never have to submit against her will again.
Not that she knew how to access that bright energy, but the buzz in her hands seemed a promise that she would, should she ever need to.
The black-haired demon just stared at her. “You think I want to mate with you? It’s my duty, Breeder. This is why Kain sent you to me—so I can ensure yours and his child’s survival.”
Kain’s explanation when he’d driven them back from the sanctuary came back to her—about how her baby would drain her life essence if she wasn’t supplied with… an alternative. She grimaced.
“Look, I appreciate it, but I’m fine. We’re fine. Focus your efforts on bringing my mate back to me so he can take care of us.”
Kesh sighed, running his fingers through his dark hair. “Fine. But if you grow weak while we look for him, we’re doing this. Understood?”
Selma nodded once, having absolutely no intention of complying. But it was obvious her overprotective brother-in-law wasn’t dropping the issue without some concession. The sooner she got him off the idea she needed his magic semen, the sooner he’d refocus on getting Kain back.
“Why are you in my bed, anyway?” Selma glanced at his shirtless body. At least he seemed to be wearing his jeans from last night, and she was still in the torn clothing she’d worn when she collapsed in bed.
“It’s technically my bed. This is my old room. You were having nightmares and whimpering in your sleep, and you wouldn’t shut up until I climbed in and held you.”
Oh. The morning just kept getting better and better.
“Um, sorry.”
Kesh grunted dismissively. “It’s fine. Are you done sleeping? I’ll bring you down for breakfast after you’ve had a shower.”
Selma spent the better part of the morning pacing the ground floor of the house while trying to keep hold of her patience.
Kesh had cleaned her vomit off the floor while she was showering and presented her with some overly elegant—and absurdly expensive—silk garments with the price tags still attached.
Then he’d proceeded to hover over her while she ate, insisting she pile on the cream cheese and sliced meats “for the baby.”
He was even worse than Kain, who at least hadn’t threatened to force feed her, and she was beginning to find his special brand of protectiveness more than a little aggravating.
Her mood wasn’t helped any further by the lack of apparent urgency in freeing Kain.
“You should sit down. You need to conserve your energy.”
Selma leveled a glare at the big man leaning against the door frame to the study, watching her with slightly narrowed eyes as if she was to blame for his need to keep her under constant watch.
“You do realize that this fetus was conceived like, five days ago at most, right?
“You do realize it’s a demon’s offspring who will suck you dry of energy if he needs to survive? You’re not carrying a human child. The more energy you expend, the sooner you’ll need semen.”
Well, wasn’t he just great at making her feel all at ease with being an expectant mother?
Just as she opened her mouth to hiss at him to back off, a large, dark form appeared behind him, and her jaw clamped shut at the sight of Kirigan.
She may have given him attitude the night before, but he still made her insides tight with fear.
There was just something utterly disturbing about him, from his dark gaze down to his unsettling aura.
“Don’t argue with the Breeder, Kesh.” Kirigan moved easily past his son and walked toward her, fixing his terrifying eyes on hers.
It was all she could do not to shrink back when he stopped right in front of her and placed a single finger under her chin to tilt her head up.
“There is spark left in this one still. Do not seek to quell it.”
Kesh seemed to materialize by her side out of thin air, looming over her shoulder as if to press his father back a little with his presence.
“Kain left her for me to protect. I will care for her as I see fit. Father.” The last word was tacked on in a somewhat more demure tone when Kirigan lifted his unsettling gaze from her to his son.
“Indeed you will.” The hot finger finally moved from her chin, and despite how annoyed she was with Kesh, she was pretty thankful for his protection at that moment.
When he placed a hand on her shoulder and gently pulled her back a step and out of his father’s dark aura, she breathed a shaky, and embarrassingly audible, sigh of relief.
“Any news of Kain?” she asked.
Kirigan pursed his lips and finally stepped away. He headed toward a small wooden table hosting several bottles of expensive-looking liquor.
“Yes. My connections have managed to locate him. He is being held in a secure location up in Manitoba—far into their territory. Extracting him will be… challenging.”
Selma stared from him to Kesh. Hope surged in her chest, but Kirigan’s pause made her guess there was more to it than what he let on. “Challenging?”
“Nothing for you to concern yourself with, my dear. We will find a way.” He poured a measure of whiskey and sipped it calmly before turning back around. “However, there is one thing I would discuss with you.
“It’s a curious thing, really. My connections also said that one of the Prince’s lackeys was killed the night they took my son.
Only he wasn’t killed by Kain. He was found several miles away, by the side of the road with scratch marks on his arms as if someone had tried to defend themselves against him. Someone small and weak.
“And, as if this wasn’t puzzling enough, his head was scattered across the road. As if it’d exploded. I believe you know him—Marathin. Marathin Hershey, your Procurer, according to the records.”
Oh.
Fuck.
Selma gave him a nervous glance before she steeled herself.
Somehow she doubted that even the demons trying to protect her would take kindly to knowing what kind of power had awoken in her after her run-in with Bealith.
Nor the demon world in general, judging by how they treated the women they called Breeders.
“Is that something you would happen to know anything about, little one?”
Kain’s preferred term of endearment for her spoken by this frightening creature startled her for a moment, but she still managed to stick out her chin in defiance.
“I have no idea what happened.”
Kirigan’s lips curled in the smallest hint of a smile. “Do not try to lie to a demon, Selma. You will rarely deceive them.”
Selma did her best to keep her gaze firm, though she pressed back into Kesh’s strong chest for support. “I’m not lying. I’m scared and worried about Kain.”