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.