TENNA.
The room went dead silent.
I stared at Dr. Reeves. She stared back with professional sympathy that somehow made it worse.
"Heat," I repeated. The word felt foreign coming from me. "I'm going into heat."
"Yes, Luna."
I knew about heats.
Every female wolf knew the basics—monthly cycles that made you desperate for your mate, biology taking over rational thought, seven days of intensity that left you exhausted and satisfied.
My mom had explained it to me when I was fourteen, clinical and matter-of-fact like she explained everything else.
But knowing about something and experiencing it were two very different things.
"I didn't think it would happen this fast," I said. "The bond only snapped on Christmas. I thought I'd have more time before—"
"Typically, yes," Dr. Reeves said.
