Page 62 of The Demon Prince

She couldn’t wait.

Her cheeks and ears burned so hot with embarrassment she wasn’t sure if they would ever turn back to the same color they had been before. What had she been thinking? What was she doing?

This was a deal. Nothing more. She was supposed to come here, offer him her blood, and then go back home to her tiny little room in that boarding house where no one cared what she was doing.

Katherine wasn’t the kind of person who got to have the attention of a demon king. She was born to poor parents and knew her place in this realm. No one crawled out of poverty by handing themselves over to a king like him.

What they did was become a whore. And clearly, he’d expected that from her.

Not that it was a problem. She wouldn’t have begrudged any woman who had offered herself to him. Katherine would have probably cheered for them, done her job to thank them and look after them once they returned to the almshouse for her stitches but... but...

Slamming her bedroom door shut, she slid down it until her butt hit the ground. Her bad hip screamed with the effort of it, stretched straight out on the ground and slightly at the wrong angle.

She cared for him, she realized. A lot. Enough so that the idea of him wanting to buy her body along with her blood? It hurt. So much more than she’d expected it to because she wanted him to see her as the woman she was.

No one else had ever seen her like he did. They looked at her limp and knew her story. They knew who she was, where she’d come from, and everything that had happened to her.

And then they would look at her with pity. Gods, she hated that expression on people’s faces. She hated how they offered to help her, like they didn’t think she could take care of herself. Like the injury that slowed her down had ruined her life.

He didn’t look at her like that.

Maybe Gluttony was blind to it. She’d gotten better at hiding the limp, but it didn’t mean she... ah. This was all so jumbled and she was such an idiot.

Now she’d kissed the man. Maybe he would expect more from her, and she hadn’t been so certain that she wanted to give him more. At least, not now. In the moment? Oh, she would have spread her legs, pain be damned, just to find out what that massive cock would feel like as he slid inside her. All the way in.

Deep.

Hard.

She thudded her head against the door and sighed. Now was not the time for such thoughts. She needed to get her head back on straight. She needed to remember that this was a job. Sacrifice herself for the greater good. Do something other than be the cripple the town thought they owed.

She just wanted... wanted...

The door shuddered with a forceful knock. Her first instinct was to press herself firmly against the door and shout, “Go away, Gluttony! I don’t want to talk right now!”

No other sound came from the opposite side of the door. Just silence. It took her a long time before she finally got the courage to roll onto her hands and knees, then push herself upright.

She could do this. She could face him and not turn into a puddle of goo. Or yank him into her bedroom and insist that he finish what he had started.

But when she opened the door, there wasn’t anyone there. Just a small golden tray with plenty of bandages and a new jar of balm. One she had forgotten to bring back from the almshouse.

A dark mist emerged from underneath the tray, although she had to admit that Spite looked a little gray right now.

“Oh, it’s you,” she said quietly, gathering both the tray and the spirit up. “What are you doing here?”

“I never left.”

“I haven’t seen you in a week, though.” She closed the door behind her with the good side of her hip and then limped over to the bed. She put everything down and then unwound the bandages. “Are you well?”

“Am I what?” It stared at her, and she wondered if anyone had ever asked if it was well. “Why do you want to know?”

“Well, I’m making friends with spirits now.” She patted the little spirit on top of its head before handing it the mirror that had been hidden underneath the bandages. “Hold this, would you?”

The spirit was quiet as it propped up the mirror. Katherine took her time winding it around her neck, making sure she applied a thick layer of the healing balm before tying it off. It looked like a macabre necklace, especially with the blood still smeared around her mouth.

Sighing, she tried not to look at herself for too long.

Spite peered around the mirror, a little dark face appearing in the mist. “Did you mean that?”

---