He was well aware that his instincts had cast him in the role as her mate and protector, for the moment ignoring the fact that she could never truly be his.

As he settled against her soft body, he couldn't bring himself to care.

6

Selma

When Selma woke up, she was toasty warm and buried in a very comfortable bed. Her brain was still dazed from the first proper sleep she’d had in over a month, only allowing her to sense that she was warm and safe.

She shifted with a pleased sigh, then realized the heavy weight which rested halfway on top of her firmly enough that she couldn't move, yet lightly enough to not crush her, was the reason she felt so warm.

Startled, she forced her eyelids open.

Bulky muscles covered in olive skin caged her from all sides. When she yelped, it constricted around her already pinned torso, gathering her closer to a massive male chest.

At the same time as his oddly familiar musk registered in her mind, memories from the night before flooded back—Memories of the female demons who had tortured and humiliated her, of the gut-wrenching need they’d forced on her, and of him: Lord Protector Kain, the demon who’d saved her.

He had taken her to his home, and… Truth be told, she wasn't entirely sure what he’d done, because while he’d sated her desperate need and taken his own pleasure from her, his approach had been far different than Marathin’s. In fact, he had seemed pretty unwilling to bed her…

Selma frowned into the mattress when she recalled what he’d said—that his magic would kill her.

The demon who’d captured her had told her about the demon Lords and their magic—of how it killed any but a few humans who were inexplicably immune to taking their dark energies inside. The so-called Pure Breeders.

Of which she was one.

But Kain… Kain didn’t know. And so long as she kept it that way, he might not try to lay claim to her like Marathin had.

She breathed deeply in an attempt at letting his soothing scent placate her waking brain. She was nowhere near as terrified as she should have been, waking up naked in the clutches of an enemy, most likely because his heady scent had been playing tricks with her mind while she slept.

She bit her lip, trying to shake her thoughts free of the drugged feelings of safety and complacency. He might seem kind and caring, but he was still one of them, and she would never again forget what they truly were: monsters only capable of kindness as an act of deceit.

She would have to bide her time and attempt to play him like she had the demon who had captured her. She’d escaped once before—she could do it again.