Mated To The Wrong Royal

"Don't you feel it?" he whispers, his strong, veiny hands cradling her face with tender intensity. "When our eyes lock like this—that spark, that pull—it's undeniable, mate. You belong to me."

Amaya's breath catches. Her body freezes, trapped by the magnetic force of his gaze. She's powerless to speak, to move, to do anything but silently beg for mercy from this devastatingly beautiful man and the inferno he ignites within her.

Without hesitation, he draws her flush against him, his control crumbling. His lips claim hers in a kiss that's desperate and consuming—his wolf demanding what it's owed. He's run out of patience, run out of reasons to deny the primal need to make her irrevocably his.