Primal Instinct

13-HEAT

Getting from Freight Tech to the estate felt like pushing through molasses.

I drove on autopilot, jaw locked, fingers white-knuckled around the steering wheel. Every bump in the road sent another shard of hurt through my chest. The heat under my skin had mutated; it was no longer just hunger, it was raw ache, like my body was punishing me for something I didn't understand.

He's your boss, I told myself. He can sleep with whoever he wants. You are not involved.

My body disagreed.

By the time I reached my suite, my clothes were sticking to my skin. I peeled off my blazer and tossed it somewhere, my breaths coming sharp and shallow. The room seemed to pulse, too bright and too dim at once.

I stumbled into the bathroom and flipped on the shower, letting cold water thunder into the tub. I didn't wait for it to settle, I stepped in, clothes and all. The shock of the icy spray stole my breath.

For a second, the pain eased.

Then the next wave came.

I folded, hands braced on the tile, forehead pressed to my forearm. A sound tore out of my chest that I didn't recognize as mine—a ragged, broken thing.

Images flickered behind my eyes—his hand on another woman's waist, his mouth near her ear, his body close. Every imagined touch landed in my bones like a brand. It felt real. Too real. Like it was being broadcast into my nervous system second by second.

"Stop," I choked. "Please, just stop."

It didn't. The betrayal pain rolled in waves, one after another, shredding what was left of my composure. Underneath it, the heat roared back to life, furious now, clawing for something it couldn't reach.

I don't know how long I stayed like that. Long enough for my wrinkled fingers to go numb. Long enough for my teeth to chatter even though I still felt like I was on fire. When my vision started to gray out at the edges, I forced myself to shut off the water and crawl out.

I needed help.

My gaze landed on the welcome packet Damien had mentioned my first night, still neatly placed on the kitchen counter. I dragged myself to it, hands shaking as I flipped it open and scanned for his number. There was a simple line, For anything after hours: Damien Reddick. I hit the call button with clumsy fingers and pressed the phone to my ear.

He answered on the second ring, voice slightly breathless. "Yeah?"

"Damien." My voice came out shredded. "It's... Nahiry."

Instant alertness. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know." My throat tightened. "It hurts. Everything hurts. And I'm hot, and I can't— I don't know what's wrong with me."

There was silence. But I could hear him breathing, like he'd brought the phone closer to his mouth. "Where are you?" he asked.

"In my... room, in 12."

"I'm on my way. Don't open the door for anyone else, you understand?"

I wasn't sure I could open it at all, but I nodded anyway. "Okay."

The line clicked dead. It felt like only seconds before there was a knock at my door, followed by the soft beep of a keycard.

"Nai?" Damien's voice. Cautious. That easy warmth I'd come to like from him sharpened at the edges.

I was on the couch, knees drawn up, hair damp, sweat clinging to my skin despite the cold shower. I wasn't sure when I'd moved from the bathroom. The room smelled like... me. Too strongly. Sweet and sharp and wrong.

The door opened. Damien stepped inside, then stopped dead. For a moment, he just stood there, the air around him tightening. His nostrils flared. His eyes darkened, pupils expanding like black ink.

"Oh, hell," he breathed.

"What?" My voice shook. "Is there... Do I look that bad?"

He swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing. He didn't come closer. If anything, he took a half step back, fingers curling around the doorframe like he needed it to stay upright.

"This wasn't supposed to happen," he muttered.

"Damien." I tried to stand and failed, my legs trembling. "I called because you said if I needed anything—"

"You did the right thing." He lifted a hand, palm facing me, like I was a wild animal he didn't want to spook. "Just... stay right there, okay?"

He turned his head slightly, gaze unfocusing the way I'd seen Trenton's do once or twice. "I just told lyric to come," he said.

I blinked. "But you di—"

He cut me a glance. "We'll explain that later. Maybe. Just breathe, Nai. In and out. Don't move toward me."

That Stung. "Why? Do I smell that bad?"

He huffed out something that wasn't a laugh. "You have no idea how you smell right now."

Before I could decide whether to be offended or more terrified, the door opened again. Lyric slipped inside, braid swinging, eyes already wide. She stopped just like Damien had. Her expression went from worried to horrified to... resigned.

"Oh," she whispered. "Oh, no."

Her mother followed, composed even in haste, her presence instantly filling the room with a different kind of gravity. She inhaled once, eyes narrowing. "Full heat," she said. "And unmated." Her gaze sliced to Damien. "Out."

He flinched. "I'm fine."

"You're not," she said coldly. "And she isn't safe with you in here. Out. Now."

Something in him didn't like that. It flickered in his eyes, in the way his shoulders squared, but he obeyed. He backed toward the door, jaw clenched so tight I thought his teeth might crack.

He met my eyes once more before he left, something like apology flickering there. "You'll be okay," he said. "They've got you. Trent doesn't know she feels all this yet. Should I—"

"No," Lyric's mother snapped. "Not a word. Not until I say." He nodded then he was gone.

I let out a shaky breath. "Someone want to tell me what 'full heat' means? Because if this is a s*x joke, I'm not really too fond of being s*x drugged."

Lyric winced. "It's... not a joke or a drug."

Her mother moved closer, ignoring my attempt at humor. She pressed the back of her hand to my forehead, then my chest, over my wildly beating heart. Her touch was cool, steady.

"I had hoped the first episode was a fluke," she murmured. "But this? This is a cycle."

"A what?"

Her gaze met mine, dark and assessing. "Your body's calling a mate, child."

I laughed, high and hysterical. "You think I'm just some horny slut? No ma'am, I want an investigation into this."

Lyric and her mother shared a look that made my skin crawl.

"The tonic from last time," Lyric said quickly. "I'll get it."

"Get it," her mother agreed. "But it won't stop this. Not all the way. It will take the edge off so she doesn't burn out her heart."

Burn out my what? Another wave hit then—this one heavier, slower. It rolled through my pelvis like molten metal, my muscles clenching around absence, my breath hitching. I bit my lip to keep from crying out.

Shame flickered through me. I was hurting and turned on and confused in front of strangers, and the worst part was... I didn't care enough to stop. The need was too loud.

Lyric crouched in front of me, her hands on my knees. "Look at me, Nai. Breathe with me, okay? In for four, out for six."

I tried. In. Out. My chest still stuttered, but it was something.

"Tell me, did Trenton do this? I wouldn't put it past him." I asked through my teeth. "Because it started at work. It got worse when he—"

When he let another woman touch him.

Lyric's mouth tightened. "Yeah," she said softly. "That tracks. In a way, he did but so did you."

"What?"

Her mother sat beside me, smoothing a hand over my damp curls. "We assumed you were human," she said. "We still don't know exactly what you are. But whatever blood runs through you, it's reacting to the Alpha's bond. You are feeling what you shouldn't be able to feel."

"The... Alpha," I repeated dumbly. "You mean Trenton."

"You shouldn't say his name right now," Lyric said. "You're drawing him every time you think too loud."

I stared at them. "This is insane. You realize you all sound ridiculous with your Alpha, Gamma, code words, right?"

"Yes," Lyric's mother agreed calmly. "And yet, here we are."

Lyric's phone buzzed. She glanced at it, then at her mother. "He's asking where she is. I had HR tell him she left early."

"Stall him," her mother said. "She cannot see him tonight. If the heat has started, proximity will only make it worse."

Lyric closed her eyes briefly, like she was listening to something I couldn't hear. "I'll tell him I'm with her and she's sick. He won't like it."

"He doesn't have to like it," her mother said. "He just has to stay away from her. For now."

The next hours blurred.

They tried the tonic. It dulled the edge of the pain but didn't put out the fire. Cold compresses, open windows, cool baths. Lyric talked to me the whole time—about nothing, about silly things, about how she and Damien used to sneak out of the house as teenagers, anything to keep me anchored.

The heat that burned me didn't care. It surged and receded in waves, each one leaving me emptier and more desperate. My body kept reaching for something that wasn't there—arching, rubbing against the sheets, chasing friction without shame. I would come back to myself and realize what I was doing, blush hot, then another wave would crash and I wouldn't care.

Lyric never flinched. Her mother's expression stayed impassive, though something like pity softened her eyes.

At one point, when the fever had spiked so high the edges of the room went white, I realized I was moaning his name.

Lyric's hand tightened around mine. "Hey. No. Don't do that. Don't call him."

"I can't—" My breath hitched. "I can't stop it. He's in my head. In my chest."

Her mother's gaze sharpened. "It's too strong," she murmured. "And she's feeling it alone."

They stepped aside for a brief, hushed conversation they thought I couldn't hear.

"This shouldn't be possible," Lyric hissed. "She's human. She has to be."

"Humans don't survive this level of bond," her mother said. "Not unless..."

"Unless what?"

"Unless her blood is something else entirely." A pause. "I'll speak to the elders. And your father. But for now, we focus on keeping her heart from breaking—literally and otherwise."

"And him?" Lyric asked.

"We keep this from him," her mother said. "If he knows she's feeling the full effects, we don't know what he'll do. And if the prophecy is true—"

Lyric grimaced. "Then the bond will break more than his rules."