Breeder for the Demon King

"Wherever creatures like you come from," he mused, his tone impossibly smooth, danger wrapped in honey, "it does not matter."

A pause. A slow blink.

"As long as you are female… you are welcome."

Evangeline felt her stomach twist.

She wasn't sure if it was from rage or fear.

Azriel tilted his head slightly, as if studying a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit. His expression remained unreadable, but his gaze—his gaze was devouring.

"We need women to breed."

A sharp intake of breath from Sereia.

Anakin lunged forward.

His hand barely made it to his knife before a demon struck.

The flat of a black blade slammed against Anakin's throat, stopping him mid-motion. The impact was brutal, sending him stumbling backward with a harsh, choked sound, his jaw clenching as he glared murderously at his captor.

Evangeline's breath caught.

The demon beside Anakin pressed the blade harder against his skin in a silent warning.