Chapter 44: The Heat
The fever started in the marrow of my bones.
It was not the slow and creeping warmth of a summer afternoon. It was a violent arson. It started deep in my lower abdomen and spread outward like a shockwave of liquid fire. My skin felt too tight for my body. My nerves screamed with a sensitivity that made the brush of my own hair against my shoulder feel like sandpaper.
I lay on the cold stone floor of the trophy room. I pressed my cheek against the granite hearth. I prayed the ice in the stone would leach the heat from my blood.
It did not work.
The biological imperative of the Lycan race was absolute. It did not care about logic or war or grief. It only cared about procreation. The trauma of the last forty-eight hours had shocked my system into a desperate need to
