That Prince Is A Girl: The Vicious King’s Slave Mate Novel

Chapter 273: Opening the cottage door, he entered, a snarl ripping from him. Heavens, this scent.

Something ran toward him and slammed into his chest. Not something-someone. The owner of that heady scent.

"Must have you," he growled, the words torn from his throat. "Must take you."

The sweet body in his arms flinched as their bodies made contact. "King Daemonikai," she sobbed, her body clinging to him like a lifeline. "You are here… you are here." His beast roared in protest, pained and angry. His name was Herod, not Daemonikai! The fog of arousal lifted slightly, replaced by a wave of guilt and panic. Zounds, he should not be here.

"Emeriel," he groaned, his voice thick with shame. "Hell, I shouldn't be here."

She stared at him, eyes unfocused. "Lord H-Herod?"

"It's me, dear one."

A small sound of disappointment and pain escaped her before she clung to him again. "Please, just make it stop. I beg of you, just make it stop," she cried, her tears mingling with the sweat on her face.

"Emeriel…"

"Please, Lord Herod." Her eyes, red and swollen, filled with arousal, finally held recognition. "If you care for me at all… just make this agony stop."

Herod struggled to think through his rut. It was incredibly difficult. "I am not Daemonikai, little one," he choked out, his voice barely recognizable. "I am not the one your body needs."

"I don't care!" She writhed, rubbing her naked body against his, desperately seeking relief from the fire consuming her. "Just make it stop. It's too much! Too much… I can't handle this."

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Herod's resolve crumbled, and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer.

Emeriel cried out again, her body twisting, rejecting him, yet still desperate enough to accept his touch. "Yes…"

Herod's hand moved down, caressing her soaked privates. But Emeriel shoved him away.

"No! Don't touch me!" she yelled, scrambling away from him until her back hit the wall. Sliding down, she curled into a tight ball, rocking back and forth.

"No, no, no! Fe-feels wrong. So, so wr-wrong. I want my Beloved. I want my Beloved!" She wailed, bawling unrestrained.

It struck Herod like a knife to the gut. Rationally, he knew she wasn't rejecting him personally, but his beast-so close to the surface-felt only the sting of rejection.

While it raged like a crazed, wounded animal, the male fought against the pull of the rut. He would not take her. He wouldn't force her. He wasn't the one she needed, the one her body craved.

The battle inside him raged. A tug-of-war between his instincts and his conscience. It was like trying to breathe underwater, each gasp a struggle for survival.

Finally, with tremendous effort, he forced his legs to move. Herod stumbled out of the cottage, slamming the door behind him.

Gasping for air, he leaned against the wall, greedily filling his lungs with fresh air. His mind slowly began to clear. The scent of her still clung to him, but the distance provided a small measure of control.

Another scream ripped through the night, shattering the fragile peace he had found. Herod's heart clenched. No, she cannot go on like this.

Making a decision, he hurried back to his study.

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