Claiming Their Royal Mate: Part One by Andie Devaux

Author:Andie Devaux [Devaux, Andie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2014-09-06T22:00:00+00:00

* * *

She fell back from the doorway as Erick flew at Owen. Panic constricted her throat. Owen could handle himself, she didn’t doubt that, but his prime hadn’t come alone.

But the other men just stepped back, out of the way as the men sparred.

Erick got in the first strike, but Owen danced away from the next punch. Then he darted to one side and swung at Erick while his side was open. Erick’s expression didn’t reveal any pain.

She almost couldn’t follow their movements; they were that quick. Like the tigers Owen said shared their blood, they moved with a fierce grace.

They rarely hit one another, but the times they did were leaving their mark. Less than a minute of their eerily wordless sparring, blood and scrapes covered both of their faces, and she could only imagine what their ribs would look like when the bruises started to show. A crash when Owen landed on the coffee table. A loud thump when Owen threw Erick into his wall, leaving behind a large hole. But the only sound coming from them men was the occasional grunt when one got in a good hit. The sweet smell of sweat tinged with blood touched her nose.

How long would it go on? How long would Owen have to fight for her?

Her stomach churned at the thought. All of this was, in a weird way, her fault.

“Stop it!” she shouted.

Both men slowed, no longer striking, but not looking at her, either.

“This is so stupid. It doesn’t even matter who wins.”

That got their attention. Owen turned slightly to stare at her, careful to keep the other man in his peripheral vision.

“What is she talking about?” Erick ground out.

“Don’t ask him, asshole. I’m standing right here.” Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew poking the tiger wasn’t the best idea. The man was obviously violent, and even though he wasn’t as physically imposing as Owen—he was tall, but not quite so muscular—Erick made her gut clench in fear in a way that Owen never had. Somehow she knew, instinctively, that under normal circumstances, Erick was the more dangerous of the two.

But she was feeling pretty violent herself. Whatever ancient machismo BS they were engaged in—well, she wasn’t the shut up and do whatever the men tell her to type. Their fight had the seriousness of a death match, and she wasn’t about to find out definitively how it would end. Not if she could do something about it.

Finally, Erick’s gaze slid to her. A quick glance at the fang marks in her neck, and then his intense eyes were locked on hers. “What are you talking about, woman?”

She didn’t roll her eyes, but it was a close call. The man was ruggedly handsome, and quite honestly one of the sexiest men she’d ever seen close up—just like Owen, yet so different. He was a bit more grizzled—in a wild man sort of way—and a couple of years older. Charcoal hair brushed his neck. A Calvin Klein model would be thankful to be blessed with Erick’s face.

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