Panting, Kain leaned against the ruined wall. He knew how scared Selma would be during the few lucid moments they’d allow her to have. She’d risked everything to avoid this exact fate—the fate Kain had promised he would protect her from.

He still remembered her cries for him as they took her away. Why did she have to be a fucking Pure Breeder?

A snarl made its way up his throat as he recalled those cursed words leaving her lips. She’d pleaded to stay by his side, promised she’d no longer run. He knew they’d been lies spurred by her desperation to avoid an auction, much like she’d lied to him in her failure to mention what she truly was.

Kain understood why she’d lied—he’d been a tool she could use to ensure her freedom, but she would’ve been dumb to entrust him with that particular secret. He was a demon Lord, after all. She wasn’t going to risk him going back on his word, tying her to his side with a mate claim despite his promise to set her free.

No, the anger churning in his gut wasn’t because she’d lied. But acknowledging the true cause…

He grimaced and fisted his hands tightly as a wave of intense longing rolled through him powerful enough to make his body shake. Every cell in his body had craved her with an intensity like hellfire from the first moment he laid eyes on her, had craved to fuck her, protect her… claim her. And it’d been bearable while he’d believed he never could, that forcing his cock inside of her would cause his innate magic to turn her to ash and bloody pulp in his grip.

But now…

He glared at the letter beckoning him to come bid on the pretty girl he’d promised to keep safe, the yearning deep in his gut making it impossible to ignore how much he wanted to win her. Possess her.

He was furious with her for being a Pure Breeder, not for lying about it. When she’d just been a regular Breeder on the run, he could pretend like the longing for her from the very core of his being stemmed purely from hormones and that there was nothing he could do about it.

Now he was forced to acknowledge that she could be his. He could win her. Claim her. Possess her. And by all the stars in the sky, he fucking wanted to.

Which was the problem.

He’d sworn to never, ever claim a mate—just the thought of tying a Breeder to his side made him ill. It was all primitive urges, something he’d made sure would never dictate his life until Selma waltzed into his territory.

Selma. Just her fucking name made him shiver with need.