“Hold on tight. It’s a long drive,” he grunted, and she wrapped her arms around his T-shirt-clad midriff.
He seemed about as approachable as Kain had the morning after their first meeting, but despite her instinctive wariness of a demon his size and less-than-talkative nature, she felt substantially safer on the back of his bike than she had on the car ride here.
If he was Kain’s brother, he would most definitely help get her mate back—and make Naharan pay.
They rode for hours.
When Kesh finally pulled up to a large estate, Selma’s entire body was stiff from the ride, and despite her worry for Kain and the trauma she’d endured from Marathin, she found it hard to stay awake.
Yet she peeked up from behind Kesh’s wide back when he stopped in front of the iron gates flanked by armed men. They were somewhere in the countryside, in which state she didn’t know, but the security seemed as vigorous as it had been at Kain’s casino. Apparently all demon Lords were anal about surveillance.
“Alert Kirigan of my arrival,” Kesh said to the guard.
“Yes, sir,” the guard replied as the gate swung open to allow them entry. He glanced curiously in her direction before Kesh kicked the bike back into gear and they roared up the long driveway to the manor house.
“Who’s Kirigan?” she asked once they’d stopped again. “Your second-in-command?”
“My father,” Kesh grunted before unceremoniously lifting her off the back of his bike.
Selma froze, staring up at the imposing house. Despite her fatigue and aching joints, she suddenly felt rather hesitant at the prospect of walking inside.
Kain’s father… What little she had heard of him had been enough to scare her, and meeting him like this, without the protection of her mate? It was more than a little daunting.
“So Kain told you about him?”
She looked up at her companion. The slight flare of his nostrils gave away what he’d picked up on—the smell of her fear.
“A little,” she croaked.
Kesh grimaced and placed a hand on her shoulder, gripping her gently through the much-too-large leather jacket. “He won’t harm you, Breeder. And we need his help. Come—after you provide what details you can, you will be cared for.”
There wasn’t really anything else to do. Kain needed help, and this seemed the only way to get it.
With the constant presence of Kesh’s large hand on her shoulder, as if he thought she needed the support, Selma climbed the stairs to the grand doorway where yet another man stood guard.
“Does your dad expect an attack?” she asked when the armed male sent her a curious look.
“Who knows?” the demon Lord behind her grumbled. “Most Lords keep their private domain well-protected.”
The guard opened the door for them without comment, even though he looked like he was bursting to ask about the Breeder being hauled into the estate.
Selma saw his nostrils twitch in her direction when they passed over the threshold and managed to smother an eyeroll. Smelling like catnip for demons was starting to lose its novelty.
Inside, the house was every bit as manor-like as the exterior. Selma looked around the grand hall they’d stepped into with raised eyebrows. ”Did you and Kain grow up here?”
“Yeah.” Kesh gave the exquisite paintings on the far wall a disgusted look. “Grossly pompous, isn’t it?”
There wasn’t a lot she could say to that. She’d grown up in a lower middle-class household, and the only things they’d had on the walls were her drawings and various art projects as she was growing up. This level of wealth was far beyond anything she could relate to.
Of course, the fact that Kain could pay what he had for her just by “shifting some assets around” should really have warned her of the kind of home he’d grown up in.
Kesh led her down a marble-floored hallway and into what looked like an old-fashioned library or drawing room. Floor-to-ceiling bookcases in dark wood lined the walls, and a chesterfield sofa with matching armchairs sat by one of the two large windows that probably offered a lovely view of the grounds in the daytime.
By a large fireplace stood a tall, broad-shouldered man with a crystal tumbler full of amber liquid. He was wearing a loose shirt and black pants, and his naked feet suggested he’d gotten out of bed to meet them.
“Father,” Kesh greeted him, “I’m afraid we have a problem.”
“Of course we have a problem,” Kirigan said. His voice was dark and rich, and it reminded her painfully of Kain’s. His hair was black as Kesh’s, but she could see the resemblance to both of them in his angular features and soft lips.
