Aiden whispered something in his native tongue and lifted his head slightly, breaking the contact. Freya felt warm liquid run down her throat to her breast.

Aiden's tongue followed the path, sweeping across the creamy swell of her breast. He caught at her small waist, aware suddenly of the way his body raged at him for release. He had to claim her for his mate. His body demanded, burned.

Freya caught at his shirt to keep from falling. He swore softly, eloquently, a mixture of two languages, furious with himself as he cradled her in his arms protectively.

"I'm sorry, Aiden." She was appalled, frightened at her weakness. The room...