Page 63 of The Slave in A Princess Disguise

If not for his people and his promise to Vlad, Daemonikai would let the beast do whatever the hell it desired.

The guards snapped to attention as Daemonikai emerged from Vladya's bedchambers approaching Yaz.

"He ordered you not to follow?" Daemonikai asked, knowing that was the only possible reason this male would be here when Vladya was not.

Yaz nodded, his eyes downcast. "Yes, Your Grace. He's been gone since yesterday."

Daemonikai gave a curt nod. He had waited long enough, it was time to hunt.

He had a scent to track.

That nagging feeling rose again, but Daemonikai suppressed it as he left the fortress.

Emeriel’s screams began again.

Lord Herod could hear her crying, begging, and he hated it so much. She was in agony, and he despised how helpless he was to help her. But being far away from her was the best way to protect her.

Once he caught a whiff of her scent, Herod knew it would be over. He would go into a rut.

That's why he was in his room, pacing. His fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles ached, the floorboards creaking beneath his agitated strides.

"Somebody help! Please!" she cried, her voice raspy and raw. The sound of her shaking the cottage door rang in his ears.

Herod squeezed his eyes shut, his nails digging into his palm. He had to ignore it. He had to.

"I ca-can't... I can't take this," she sobbed. "It's too much, please...I feel like I'm dying."

Herod pressed his palms against his ears, desperate to block out the sound of her pain. But it was no use.

His beast sensed the agony of someone they cared for, and was annoyed and restless within him. The urge to investigate, to comfort, was almost overwhelming.

"Please! my king, I ne-need you!" she cried. "I need you s-so much...Where are you? Please, I'm dy-dying."

The door rattling had stopped, and Herod imagined her small body writhing in agony on the floor of the cottage. A pounding headache developed.

"Please, come before it gets me again. I ca-can't...I can't..." Panic entered her voice. "It's coming again—" A scream tore from her throat, cutting through the night air like a jagged blade.

Herod imagined her twitching from the pain, her eyes filled with terror. Vulnerable and defenseless.

Orin had been right. Emeriel's heat was merciless. Brutal in its intensity.

Sobs echoed through the night, each one a fresh wound to Herod's soul.

Herod could not take it any longer, he was close to breaking.

Desperate for a distraction, he crossed to the window and flung open the curtains. In the distance, the cottage stood bathed in moonlight, its doors firmly shut. Herod needed air, needed to escape the suffocating guilt crushing him. He threw open the window—

And her scent hit him with the force of a lightning strike. He had made a terrible mistake.

Herod’s muscles tensed, his body frozen in place. Her scent flooded his nostrils mixed with heady musk, amplified a thousandfold by her heat.

He registered distantly that he was growling. Raw need flooded his senses. Irresistible, uncontrollable.Want her, want her, want her!

His vision blurred, cock aching fiercely.Must have her. Must pin her down and take her.

Herod was barely aware of leaving his bedchambers and heading toward the cottage. His mind a fog of lust. He wanted, badly.

With every step he took toward that alluring scent, his want grew worse.

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