Claiming Their Royal Mate: Part One Read Free

her sit. But she couldn’t sit—pressure seemed to only make it worse. So she lay down instead. The world was surreal, and Owen’s scent seemed to inundate the couch—a deep, masculine scent that teased her desire. A murmured voice caressed her ears and she realized he was on the phone.
    What had he said—full heat? She had no clue what that could be. Was he calling an ambulance? She might be ill. She certainly didn’t feel right, although she didn’t feel sick, either. Could she have been poisoned? The pipes in the apartment building had to be old as dirt, probably filled with lead. Maybe she’d been drugged. But she hadn’t left her apartment all day, so how was that possible? Time-released Ecstasy wasn’t a thing, as far as she knew. It felt as though something—something outside of herself, outside of her control—was assaulting her.
    “I’m going to try to help you,” Owen said, his voice strained.
    Daniella opened her eyes and blinked against the brightness. She hadn’t noticed him approaching.
    “Need you,” she managed.
    “I know, kitten. I can’t give you that. But I can help you. Maybe make it not hurt so much. But to do that I have to touch you.” His voice deepened and her sex throbbed in response. “Do you want me to help you?”
    “Please,” she said, her voice a whisper.
    He tugged on the belt of her robe, and then slid it open with a hiss. Only vaguely did she realize she was naked in front of her annoying neighbor. Her former friend. Full breasts jutting out, her nipples were hard as rocks, as if they begged for his attention. And her core ached, electricity springing from it as if his gaze alone excited whatever it was inside of her that needed quenching.
    “Goddamn, you’re beautiful,” he said, reverently.
    He took one of her nipples into his mouth and suckled. She moaned and slid her fingers through his hair, pulling at it. Begging him silently to do more. Faster. More pressure.
    He responded by moving to her other nipple and sucking harder. He bit down softly as his hand slid down to cup her sex, pressing only the slightest bit against her hard nub.
    “Owen,” she cried out, not even recognizing her own voice. She came immediately, a flash of colors and light crisscrossing her vision.
    He growled in response and rubbed her softly with his palm, pulling small aftershocks from her.
    “That won’t be enough,” he muttered, as if to himself. But he pulled the sides of her robe back over her, hiding her body from his view. He didn’t get up from where he crouched by her on the couch, but he settled his hands on either side of her.
    He was right. It wasn’t enough. Already she could feel the hunger just sated building again. But she could think better. Not clearly, by any means, but any ability to think was an improvement.
    “Owen, what’s happening? Please, tell me.” Her pride bristled at the pleading tone in her voice. But she needed to know, and now. Because the desire was already pooling between her legs and crawling along her skin.
    His expression was hard, as if he would refuse her again. But when his gaze locked onto hers, his face softened. “You’re not a normal woman, Daniella. When you hit maturity, your first heat began. Only sex with one of your own can sate the lust.”
    “One of my own? I don’t understand. And what do you mean, maturity? This only started a couple of weeks ago, and I’m well into maturity.”
    “It doesn’t hit like clockwork, at an exact age. But generally between nineteen and twenty-two, our women start going into heat. It’s not usually a problem, because we live in a community. There are men around to…take care of things, when the heat hits. But you’re different, Daniella. You weren’t raised with us.”
    “I was adopted,” she murmured, mind racing. It was getting harder to think again. She squirmed, but the pressure only grew. “I’m twenty-three.”
    “You’re a little older than normal. But like I said, it’s not