by Nora Ash
“We’re almost there, my dear. You’ll get taken care of plenty, don’t you worry.” His voice sounded just a little strained as he twisted her around so she couldn’t nibble at his collar. “Everyone is beyond excited to see you. It’s been seven years since the last Pure Breeder was found, so absolutely every unmated Lord on the planet has made the journey here.”
Every unmated Lord? The image of Kain flashed on her mind, and she whimpered softly with want. But there was no reason for him to be there—she’d accepted that from very early on in her captivity, though it made her chest hurt to do so. Not only had he made it clear that he was not looking for a mate—he’d also given her up voluntarily, after promising he’d protect her.
She wasn’t even sure why she wanted him to be there.
“Shh now, don’t be sad. It pollutes your scent, and trust me—you don’t want 150 demon Lords getting all riled up thinking you’re anything but content.” The male who was escorting her paused in front of a set of wide double doors, tipping her chin up so he could catch her eyes. “Just think about how much pleasure you will get soon.” And with that, he bent his head and kissed her.
The sweet taste of male pheromones swathed in the seductive heat of his kind made her melt against him. Her mind went fuzzy as her pussy throbbed longingly.
It was over way too soon.
The demon pulled away, panting, and released his hold on her body so he could rub his forehead with both hands. “Blackened stars! How do the procurers do it?” he gasped.
Selma groaned, trying her best not to throw herself at him. She was sick and tired of being manipulated this way, but the cheap ploy had undoubtedly worked, because all she felt now was horny and frustrated.
The male seemed to gather himself and refocused on her, clearly holding his breath. Touching her as little as he possibly could he turned her around towards the door before opening it and practically shoving her through.
Bright spotlights shone down on her from high above, and Selma squinted against them as she tried to orient herself.
She was in a large, open room with sawdust on the floor, but she couldn’t see much for the light shining in her eyes.
“Ah, there she is. Selma, come here, precious one.”
A loud voice echoed through the room as if projected from a microphone.
Selma cowered at the sudden noise, her eyes darting from the door she’d been shoved through to the other side. Despite the forced lust placating her mind she still felt a wave of unease. Why couldn’t she see anything beyond the nearest few yards of sawdust? Who was talking to her? A nagging feeling of being watched made her frown and wrap her arms around her near-naked form, huddling up.
“There there, girl. You are perfectly safe. Come to me.” A large man appeared in front of her, framed by the blinding light. She couldn’t see his features clearly, even as he paused a few feet from her, but he projected a pulsing aura that she felt without difficulty. He was a Lord, no question about it.
He held out a hand to her, and she grabbed it on pure instinct, her frazzled mind expecting to be enveloped by the same sensation of safety as Kain’s presence had given her.
However, all she felt when his large hand closed around hers was sick desire—a dark need to be touched all over that unsettled her stomach even as slick moisture dripped down her thighs at the contact. No peace settled over her.
“That’s it,” the Lord cooed at her, seemingly content with her body’s instinctive response to his nearness. “Come to the middle of the arena with me so they can get a proper look at how beautiful you are.”
Selma stumbled after the demon as he led her across the sawdust. There was nothing she could do at this point but obey, and the tingling between her thighs made the urge to do so stronger for every moment she spent next to his warm body.
He stopped next to a cage only a few feet taller than her, and nodded at the open door. “Step in, little Breeder.”
She hesitated for a moment, but the thought of being locked behind bars seemed unusually appealing—according to the demon who’d led her here, 150 demon Lords were currently staring at her like she was a piece of meat. Despite her pussy’s wet pulsing she still had enough presence of mind to realize that she would be a lot better off securely locked away than out in the open, naked and oozing pheromones into the air.
The door closed shut with a metallic clank that echoed through the room once she was inside, and Selma felt rather than saw dark energy slither up along the bars and over the lock. Demonic magic, ensuring her safekeeping.
And just like that, the light dimmed.
Selma blinked, her pupils dilating slowly to adjust to the change. Slowly, dark shapes came into focus, and she couldn’t hold back a small gasp. She was in the center of an arena, and in a cone shape straight ahead of her sat a multitude of men on raised benches, all with their gazes firmly fixed on her.
It was a curious experience. While her first instinct was to cover her exposed breasts and sex with her hands, her body had an entirely more positive reaction to the attention. A hot spasm from her core made her gasp again, and then groan low in her throat when a rush of the liquid marking her readiness for mating gushed down her legs.
Murmurs rose from the crowd and several of the nameless faces moved restlessly. A dark force, faintly visible above the raised seats, started gathering, like a transparent cloud before thunderstorms.
“Yes, as you can see, she’s very, very eager to be claimed,” the Lord who’d greeted her said, gesturing towards her with a flourish of the hand he didn’t hold a microphone with. “She is twenty-seven years old, extremely fertile according to her procurer, and responds well to rough courting.”
Selma closed her eyes and gripped at the bars while she tried to control her abdomen’s shuddering spasms as it responded to the many males in her presence. All big, strong, powerful … She groaned again and bit her lip until it bled. Her mind wasn’t fully gone with the cursed desire yet, and she couldn’t bear being fully lucid while her body forced her to get on her hands and knees and present her flushed opening to the many spectators. She was still not a slave, still in charge of her own will … at least for a little while longer.
“Those of you who wish to have a closer look at the young lady can approach now, before we begin the bidding.”
The instant racket of feet moving down wooden steps made Selma jolt backwards, eyes wide.
They approached in a mob, the many faces nearing her cage too much to take in all at once. Despite the increasingly persistent throbbing between her thighs, she could hardly breathe from anxiety when they all surrounded her cage, blocking her view with bulky muscle and absurdly wide shoulders. Each and every one of them was as huge and overpowering as Kain.
“Shh, look up, honey.”
“Little princess.”
“Such a pretty girl.”
“Lovely Breeder.”
“Supreme.”
“So beautiful.”
Words cooed at her from all directions, undoubtedly meant to soothe and flatter. Selma groaned, her mind finally hazing over when the wave of male musk embraced her fully.
She wanted—needed—them. It didn’t matter that they’d tear her apart—she needed the strength of their bodies and intoxicating scent, needed to be consumed by everything they were and everything they could offer. Now.
Staggering, she got to her feet and fell against the nearest bars, eager to feel their heated touch on her bare skin, but when the demons there tried to press their hands into the cage to oblige, black sparks flashed between the bars. Snarls erupted from the Lords close enough to get hit, but they didn’t withdraw.
“Please,” she gasped, pressing her own hands against the cool metal. No sparks flew at her touch, but she couldn’t penetrate the magic either. “I need ….”
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 in hers.
“Kain?”
She was vaguely aware of her mouth hanging open, even through the shock and continued throbbing in her nipples, abdomen 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 and reason the cause of this emotion, but she recognized it as she scurried along the bars in a desperate 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, 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 the voice being broadcast over the microphone’s command the crowd slowly 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 of the cage, her desperation to see if he was truly there suppressed by the urge to be close to them—any of them.
“My Brothers,” the voice boomed somewhere past the hot pulse coursing through her body.
“You have seen the Pure Breeder and smelled her pheromones, 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 it be needed. Nothing will be more important than procreating, to aid in our battle against the traitorous females and the Gods by strengthening our ranks.” The Lord next to her cage paused for emphasis.
“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 have the winning bid you must reactivate the Breeder’s mark before claiming her.” Once more, he gestured towards 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, sudden 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 bared chest.
Selma was nearly shocked out of the hormonal daze. Ten million dollars? She stared, gob smacked, 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. 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 halfway and smiled wickedly, his flaming green eyes catching hers for the briefest moment. “I believe the little Breeder would appreciate a fight, Beron.”
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 forward, towards the newcomer.
The second bidder snarled and braced for the assault, raising his own dark magic to expel the attack.
Selma sat frozen at the bottom of the cage. She’d known about their magic since seeing Dr. Hershey attack Marie and the officer, but never had she seen, or even imagined, that it could be anything like this.
The two men squared off, seemingly grabbing dark energy out of the air and hurling it at each other, leaving deep gashes bleeding crimson blood 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. Beron 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 10 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 left 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 pussy spasmed longingly at the sight of whatever it was, 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 hormones could hide the truth of what was hidden behind their strong muscles and addictive pheromones—not after seeing what was truly behind the mask.
“Twenty five million dollars.”
The new challenger strode down from the benches. He, too, was 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 the blond Eirath.
Eirath charged at him the moment he was inside 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 the the 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 one short moment, when Eliath blinked to brush away the trail of blood from his split eyebrow, that the winner was finally decided.The long haired demon leapt forward and, with a spinning kick powered by dark energy, knocked the blond to the floor with the heel of his foot.
“Loman wins!” Once more, the auctioneer placed a constricting hand on the winner’s shoulder, undoubtedly to ensure that the ‘no killing’ rule was adhered to.
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 back at the prize he’d lost.
The bidding continued, more often than not followed by a brutal fight.
Selma lost track of the number of bidders fairly swiftly. The more violence she saw, the more her pussy pulsed with the need to be mounted, as if all the testosterone in the air was working with the mark to turn her into nothing but a warm, willing body for their perverted use.
However, the gruesome display tore at her soul in a way even the mark couldn’t hinder, and 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 no amount of pheromones would ever change that.
After three hours the bids had reached a staggering ninety million dollars, and the fights were increasingly longer and—if possible—more vicious, with Beron having 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 stair, his g
aze firmly fixed on the current winner.
“Prince Naharan,” the auctioneer greeted, bowing lightly. “You honor us, and the Breeder, with your presence. Menor, do you wish to fight His Highness, raise the 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 screeching sound, 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 Beron helped his defeated Brother out of the arena.
He was the first since Eirath to pay her direct attention, since there had been no pause in the bids since. This time, there was no immediate bid to challenge the demon currently eying her up 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 had that feral fire that made her core weep with need and fear squirm in her stomach. He terrified her, but so had every single other contestant who’d fought for the right to seed her.
