CHAPTER THREE: Heat
1566 Words
Mira
Am I crazy?
...I guess we’ll find out, because why else would my brain be looping the same sin over and over—me, Damon Blackwood, and far too few clothes between us.
It had to be the hormones.
That’s what I told myself.
That’s the only explanation I had for why, out of the millions of perfectly harmless, non-life-ruining thoughts in existence, my mind kept circling back to him. Damon Blackwood. The Alpha of the South. The one whose voice could run shivers down my spine without even raising above a whisper. The one whose fingers hadn’t even touched bare skin—but still, my body swore it knew exactly how they’d feel dragging slow over my hip.
I shifted in my seat, my thighs pressing together under the lunch table, as if that could smother the restless hum in my bloodstream. This wasn’t normal. It wasn’t like I was in heat—my wolf was dormant, silent. But something deep in my chest and lower still was curling tight, making me warm in places that had no business feeling warm in the middle of a crowded dining hall.
“...Mira.”
My head snapped up.
“You’ve been zoning out for minutes again.” Sasha’s voice was calm, flat—like a scalpel gliding over skin before you realize it’s drawn blood. She didn’t even glance up from her laptop, fingers tapping a merciless rhythm on the keys. “You didn’t hear a single word I said, did you?”
Heat rushed to my cheeks. “Sorry. Just tired.”
“You’ve been tired since orientation.” Her tone was sharper now, her eyes finally flicking up to study me. “And flushed. And twitchy. Like you’re hiding something.”
Before I could answer, Zara leaned across the table with a wicked grin, tossing a curly fry into her mouth. “She’s not hiding anything. She’s horny.”
I choked on my drink. “Zara!”
“What?” she said innocently, licking salt off her fingers. “That’s your ‘I-just-thought-about-s*x-in-class’ face. I know it. Who is it? Please tell me it’s one of the Alphas.”
My stomach dropped. I froze.
Sasha’s brows rose slowly, her green eyes sharpening like glass. “You didn’t.”
“I didn’t do anything,” I said too fast. Too defensive.
Zara’s gasp was loud enough to draw looks from the next table. She leaned in, eyes wide and gleaming like a cat about to shred something expensive. “Wait—wait—wait—it’s Damon, isn’t it? Tell me it’s Damon. I saw him staring at you at the party like he wanted to eat you alive.”
My pulse spiked because she wasn’t wrong. The worst part? I wanted him to.
“It’s nothing,” I muttered, stabbing at my salad like it had personally offended me.
Sasha’s laptop closed with a soft snap. “Mira, we are literally surrounded by three of the most dangerous Alphas in the country. And you’re catching feelings?”
“She’s not catching feelings,” Zara sang, swirling her drink. “She’s catching heat. Big difference.”
But Sasha wasn’t smiling. “You know how they play. Especially Damon. His last fling couldn’t even finish the semester after he got bored.”
That should have been enough to scare me. It should have been enough to make me run so far Damon would forget my name.
But all I could think about was last night—how Damon had looked at me like I was something rare and fragile… and like he was the only one allowed to break it.
And I hated myself for the way my pulse sped up at the memory.
The way his mouth had tilted in a slow, knowing smile when I’d stormed away from him. Like he liked the chase. Like he wanted me to run, just so he could hunt me down.
And somewhere deep inside, under all the panic and logic, a traitorous part of me whispered… What if you stopped running?
“Mira.” Zara’s tone had shifted to a stage whisper. “Don’t look now, but we’ve got company.”
The air seemed to change around us, thinning until I had to work to pull in a full breath.
I turned.
Not Damon.
Ronan.
The Alpha of the West. Tall, broad-shouldered, with storm-colored eyes that didn’t blink often and a mouth that seemed permanently set in the kind of almost-smile that made you want to both lean closer and step back. He moved like he had all the time in the world—and like he’d take yours if he wanted it.
“What the hell—” Sasha muttered under her breath.
“Morning, ladies,” Ronan said smoothly, his voice like low thunder. “Mind if I steal Mira for a minute?”
Before I could even find words, Zara grinned. “Steal her? You might have to fight Damon first.”
Ronan’s gaze flicked to her—calm, assessing. Then his mouth curved just a little. “Then I’ll win.”
My pulse skipped. Sasha stiffened like she was calculating fifty possible ways this could end badly.
“I—uh—”
But my legs had already decided for me. I stood, my chair scraping the floor, and followed Ronan without another word.
Why? I didn’t know. Maybe because saying no felt impossible when those storm-gray eyes were fixed on me like that.
We walked across the quad in silence, Ronan’s long strides measured and unhurried. His hands stayed in his pockets, shoulders loose. He was all casual confidence, while I was hyper-aware of every step, of the space between us, of the way people’s eyes followed when they realized who I was walking with.
We stopped beneath the massive oak tree at the edge of campus. The air smelled faintly of autumn and damp leaves. Here, the noise of the dining hall and the chattering students faded until it felt like the whole world had narrowed down to just us.
“I wanted to check in,” Ronan said, tilting his head slightly. “After the party.”
“I’m fine,” I lied, crossing my arms.
“You sure?” His voice was patient, almost teasing. “You looked ready to faint when Damon touched your arm.”
I flinched. “That was nothing.”
His gaze sharpened, though his tone stayed easy. “Was it? Because word’s already traveling. People are saying Damon Blackwood is… obsessed with you.”
A cold shiver threaded through my spine.
“And,” Ronan added, leaning in just enough for his breath to warm my cheek, “Aiden’s been asking about you too.”
Three Alphas. All of them circling like they’d caught the same scent.
“What do they want from me?” The question slipped out before I could stop it. My voice was barely above a whisper.
Ronan’s lips curved slowly. “Isn’t it obvious?”
He lifted a hand, his knuckles brushing against my jaw in a gesture so soft it made my knees feel unreliable. Not rough. Not claiming. Just… tasting the idea of touching me.
“I think you already know what they want,” he murmured. “The real question is…” His gaze locked with mine, heavy and searching. “…what do you want, Mira?”
Something twisted low in my stomach. His voice curled around me like smoke, pulling images to the surface before I could shove them down—me, pressed against the library wall, Ronan’s mouth at my throat, Damon’s hand gripping my waist, Aiden’s shadowed eyes watching from just out of sight—
I sucked in a breath and stepped back, breaking the spell. “I don’t want anything.” The words came out sharper than I intended.
Ronan chuckled under his breath, not unkindly. “Keep telling yourself that.”
And then he turned, walking away as casually as he’d come, leaving me standing under the oak with my pulse thundering in my ears.
For a moment, I just stayed there, the autumn wind tugging at my hair, the heat in my veins refusing to fade.
Inside my chest, something had started to stir. A wild, restless thing I didn’t understand—but it was getting harder to pretend it wasn’t there.
I did want something.
Or someone.
And my instincts were screaming that they wanted me too.
But for what?
For how long?
And when they were done… what would be left of me?
- Writer
