I woke in bed, flopping over and tossing the pelt off my bare body.
“Sage?” Thorbjorn was a shadow falling across the bed. A rough hand laid over my brow. “You’re burning up.”
“I’m not ill.” I rubbed my eyes, a little dizzy. I drank the water he gave me. “This isn’t sickness. This is something else.” My body buzzed, restless. Beyond the door, the cool of the night beckoned me. Perhaps I could wander out there, and pace up and down in the clearing, like I did back at the abbey when my fever—
It struck me. The fever had come upon me. It did not leave me weak, but burning with desire, eager for a man’s touch. My friend Willow suffered every full moon, but I had only felt the hot, burning ache once in awhile.
“Come, sweet one.” Thorbjorn wiped down my face and hands with cool water. With
