The door shut with a clank that echoed through the room once she was inside, and Selma felt rather than saw dark energy slither along the bars and over the lock—demonic magic ensuring her safekeeping.

And just like that, the light dimmed.

Selma blinked, her pupils dilating to adjust to the change. Slowly dark shapes came into focus, and she couldn’t hold back a small gasp. In a cone shape straight ahead of her sat a multitude of men on raised benches, all their gazes firmly fixed on her.

It was a curious experience. While her first instinct was to cover her exposed breasts and sex with her hands, her body had a more positive reaction to the attention. A hot spasm from her core made her gasp again, then groan low in her throat when a rush of the liquid marking her readiness gushed down her legs.

Murmurs rose from the crowd, and several of the nameless faces moved restlessly. A dark force, faintly visible above the raised seats, started gathering like a thunderhead.

“Yes, as you can see, she’s very, very eager to be claimed.” Maell grinned, gesturing toward her with a flourish of one hand. “As your invitation stated, she is twenty-seven years old, extremely fertile according to her Procurer, and responds well to rough courting.”

Selma closed her eyes and gripped at the bars while she tried to control her abdomen’s shuddering at the many males in her presence.

“Those of you who wish to have a closer look at the young lady can approach now before we begin the bidding.”

The instant racket of feet moving down wooden steps made Selma jolt backwards, eyes wide. They approached in a mob, the many faces nearing her cage too much to take in all at once. Despite the increasingly persistent throbbing between her thighs, she could hardly breathe from anxiety when they all surrounded her cage, blocking her view with bulky muscle and absurdly wide shoulders. Each and every one of them was as huge and overpowering as Kain.

“Shh, look up, honey.”

“Little princess.”

“Such a pretty girl.”

“Lovely Breeder.”

“Supreme.”

“So beautiful.”

Words cooed at her from all directions, undoubtedly meant to soothe and flatter. Selma whimpered and sunk into a ball on the floor in the middle of the cage as an impenetrable onslaught of pheromones assaulted her mind.

She wanted—needed—them. It didn’t matter that they’d tear her apart; she needed the strength of their bodies and intoxicating scents, needed to be consumed by everything they were and everything they could offer. Now.

Selma staggered to her feet again and fell against the nearest bars, desperate for their heated touch on her bare skin, but when the demons tried to press their hands into the cage to oblige, black sparks flashed between the bars. Snarls erupted from the Lords close enough to get hit, but they didn’t withdraw.