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Cathy

I hear his voice as if from a distance. See his face set in an expression of determination. His jaw firms. A nerve ticks at his temple.

His chest planes ripple under his dark skin, and all I can think of is going to him, dragging my fingernails over his chest and marking him. Then, throwing myself at him and asking him to take me over and over again until I reach that space where all that remains is that bare essence of my soul—a naked need, a burning desire to be part of something.

To be joined to him in a way that I have never been to anyone else and never will be again. And that thought is a shock.

But is it, is it really? When I’d known from the time I’d set foot in this palace that there would be only one logical conclusion. That I was going to be taken and knotted, and not by any leader, but by the most powerful of all of them. And inside I’d been ready. More than ready. Maybe it was that genetic superior

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