Osharus, the Crown Prince of the Northern Tides, was trapped in a hell of his own biology. He had come to the surface for a vital trade summit, but his timing had been a fatal error.
The "Deep Heat"—a rare, decade-long cycle of primal reproductive drive—had hit him with the force of a hurricane. To the human world, he was a titan of industry, but right now, his human skin felt like a cage.
His muscles were coiled like steel springs, and his eyes had turned a molten, glowing gold that pierced the darkness of the suite. He had stripped off his suit, his bare chest heaving as he fought the urge to shift into his true form. The heat made him ravenous, his instincts screaming for a mate to anchor his soul.
When the door opened and a scent flooded the room, his control snapped. It wasn't just the scent of a woman; it was the scent of lilies, moonlight, and a vulnerability that called to his predatory nature.
Aniera whimpered, her hands searching for a wall to steady herself. Instead, she was suddenly seized by hands that were larger and hotter than any human’s should be. She let out a cry of shock as she was hoisted into the air, her back hitting the cold mahogany of the door.
