Page 86 of The Princess's Chosen

"Princess, what's going on?"

I shivered and rolled, a small agonized whimper escaping my aching jaw.

Aric pulled the covers back, silhouetted by sunlight that made me hiss, blindingly bright. My eyes watered, and I twisted my neck until my muscles burned, burying my face in the mattress.

"Fuck. What is this? Hunger?" Aric asked.

"No, it's…different," I managed.

His hand settled on my back, and my skin trembled as if it were trying to crawl away from the touch. There was a spark of magic that made me squeak with pain, and Aric gasped and yanked his hand back. A moment later, the pain faded, just a little fraction.

"It's the Hunger," Aric bit out.

I shook my head and faced him again, blinking against the strain of light until a broad body appeared and pulled the curtains shut. "It's not. It's like anger, but worse," I said, even as my lungs tried to strangle the words.

"That may be, but your body is catching my magic like a fish hook," Aric said, shifting closer but not trying to touch me again. "You haven't touched any of us, have you?"

"There were bigger issues to deal with than mefuckingyou," I snapped.

"You seem to be forgetting that you are different, Bryony! You have Chosen now, your Hunger is awake. If it makes demands, you must meet them," Aric said.

"And if its demand is for blood?" I cried, my body starting to jerk with rising sobs.

Aric sighed and reached a hand up to brush his hair away from his face. "I see. All right, we'll sort this out, princess. So you have an appetite for violence, probably from the sudden threat of Emory?"

Aric made it sound so logical as if I were only one of Owen's creatures but with a strange and explicit diet.

"Aric," I whined.

"You can't cure hunger by starving it, Bryony," Aric said, softening. "Let me help. Or rather… How do you feel when you see Owen? Or I can track one of the others down?"

I folded my lips between my teeth and looked up over Aric's shoulder to where Owen stood by the door, worry clear in his gaze. I groaned as my body seized and seemed to lift me from the bed, a battle waging in my bones as I fought the urge to lunge for Owen where he stood. I knew what would happen too when I caught him, and Owen had already had to suffer demands from the Hunger too often. It didn't seem quite fair to put him through it again after Camellia, especially not when I was so…outside of myself, as I had been with Daniel.

"I'm afraid I'll hurt him," I breathed.

"Mistress, you could never," Owen gasped, frowning and stepping forward before pausing at Aric's raised hand.

"Why not you?" I asked Aric, frowning.

"I noticed it last night as you slept. It's like you're eating magic up. I'm not sure how that will turn out for me," Aric said, shrugging. "You didn't answer me though. How does it feel when you look at him?"

I groaned and wrapped my arms around my legs. "Like I want to run a sword through everyone and everything between us."

"Oh, Mistress," Owen said softly, sympathy and sweetness all perfectly mixed on his face.

Aric smirked and reached out to me, before stopping himself, his fingers clenching. "I've been doing some reading on the Hunger in the library, Bryony. I think this will help. Your power is reacting defensively, protectively even. We just need to remind it you are safe, that those you care for are safe, make it docile again. Quit biting your lip like that, you'll make yourself bleed."

I forced out a long breath and looked at Owen again. He was so strong. He'd been through so much already with me, and he took every inch of it in stride. Maybe I did want to touch him, I just wasn't sure if it was passion or violence or both. Cosmo and Wendell would try to soothe me, Thao would antagonize me into a temper, but Owen would ride the moment out with me for good or ill.

I stretched my hand out to him, and Aric sighed and slipped off the bed, making room for Owen who came to my side readily. His hand was giant in mine, and I tugged him closer, the scrabbling beast inside me climbing up to claw and bite andclaimhim. Mine. My Chosen, mylove.

Owen was quick, gripping tighter to my hand and pushing it far back behind my head into the pillows. I groaned and twisted as he bowed over me, my free fist rising to grasp at his chest. It too was caught in his grip and then pressed to the bed, stretching me so that I couldn't arch up.

Owen's face hovered over mine as I tried to hold in the growl of frustration scratching my throat. His eyes flicked back and forth over my face, lips turned down as he studied me.

"Are you sure?" he asked. "I don't want to hurt her either."

Instead of the animal inside me roaring at being captured, I knew the moment it began to settle, still scratching, but patient.

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