There was nothing more to say—nothing more he could say. In his eyes she saw the truth of his promise, and in his face, the strength he needed to keep his word.

Selma raised up on her toes so she could wrap her arms around his thick neck. Without a word, she kissed the man who’d finally set her free from a lifetime of fear. All that mattered was his love, because in that she had found her own power, along with the knowledge that even in the darkest of nights she would never again be alone.

Prince of Demons

Read the next book in the Demon’s Mark Series

Kesh fights for his family's claim to the throne - but when a wayward Breeder is thrust in his path, his priorities are forever altered.

KESH

“There’s a demon at the gates who insists on seeing you. Says it’s urgent.”

Kesh sighed deeply, pulling his attention from the war map he’d been trying to update with the latest news of their enemies’ movements.

“More urgent than stopping the Europeans from taking Maine?” Kesh asked, his voice deceptively gentle.

Mallorn, more than accustomed with his Lord’s ways, took a slight step back, bringing him out of arm’s reach. “I said you were busy. I more than hinted at what happened to the last underling who claimed an emergency and found you disagreed. He still insists.”

Kesh growled, scrunching the map in his fist as irritation flared hotly. “Do these fools not realize the importance of what we’re doing? How fucking close we are to annihilation? Why must they pester me with their petty squabbles? Who do I have to disembowel to get some peace?”

“Weight of the crown, I’m afraid,” Mallon said, infuriatingly uncowed by his Lord’s anger. “He’s waiting outside the throne room.”

Kesh shot him a glare and straightened up. “Fine. Send five troops to Maine. Tell our warriors I’m sorry I can’t help them take down the invaders—I have a fucking contract dispute to settle, or whatever the hell it is this time.”

The throne room still looked like the casino it’d been up until recently. His men had done a decent job at taking out the gambling tables and slot machines, but the bar still remained along the eastern wall, and the stains of alcohol and stench of desperation weren’t coming out of the carpet no matter how many times Mallorn had had it dry cleaned.

Kesh strode to the throne—and imposing chair bolted to the hastily constructed dais—and slung himself down, propping a foot on one armrest as he drummed his irritation into the other.