Valarina smiled, but only sadness radiated from her eyes. “They won’t let you die. You’re too valuable. Submit to them, little sister. There are other ways to fight. But first, you must make it through today with your sanity?—”
The striking of a gong resonated through the hallway from beyond the metal doors, silencing her.
“It’s time,” she whispered. She gave Selma’s shoulders a squeeze and stepped back as the doors swung open. “Go.”
Selma drew in another shuddering breath and turned toward the bright lights shining from within. She was too weak to run, but she thought of refusing to enter of her own will. Let them force her in—let them know she didn’t want any part of this sick show.
“It’s better if you go,” Valarina said softly.
She was right. Selma closed her eyes for a moment, mustering the strength she needed. She was about to experience every indignity a woman could. At least she could spare herself the humiliation of getting dragged in kicking and screaming.
Her thighs rubbed against the tight ring, making her bite her lip as she stepped past the threshold. Sawdust prickled underfoot. She sensed she was in a large arena, that outside the cone of light there was a vast space, but it was too bright for her to see anything but the floor.
“Ah, there she is. Selma, come here, precious one.”
A murmur rose from somewhere farther away like the rumbling of distant thunder.
She gritted her teeth and wrapped her arms around her body, shielding it when the sensation of too many eyes became too much to bear.
“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 she recognized Maell’s voice.
He held out a hand to her and she grabbed it on pure instinct, her body recognizing his potential to sate her despite her loathing at the sight of him.
“That’s it,” the Governor cooed, seemingly content with her body’s 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.
Fight them later, Valarina had said. She wondered if Maell knew his cowed mate was capable of such rebellious thoughts.
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 Maell, more than one hundred and fifty demon Lords were currently staring at her like she was a piece of meat. Despite everything, she still had enough presence of mind to realize she would be a lot better off securely locked away than out in the open, naked and oozing pheromones.
The door shut with a clank that echoed through the room once she was inside, and Selma felt rather than saw dark energy slither along the bars and over the lock—demonic magic ensuring her safekeeping.
And just like that, the light dimmed.
Selma blinked, her pupils dilating to adjust to the change. Slowly dark shapes came into focus, and she couldn’t hold back a small gasp. In a cone shape straight ahead of her sat a multitude of men on raised benches, all 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 a more positive reaction to the attention. A hot spasm from her core made her gasp again, then groan low in her throat when a rush of the liquid marking her readiness 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 thunderhead.
“Yes, as you can see, she’s very, very eager to be claimed.” Maell grinned, gesturing toward her with a flourish of one hand. “As your invitation stated, 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 at the many males in her presence.
“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.”
