What the hell happening?
No.
I can't be going into heat.
Not now.
Not here.
I see the realization dawn in Leon's eyes, and panic sets in. I try to pull away, but my limbs feel like they’re made of lead.
I’m about to give him the slap he deserves so he gets his paws off me when Hank is suddenly there, his massive form stepping between me and Leon. "Is everything alright here?" he asks, his voice low and threatening.
I nod, not trusting myself to speak as I rub my arm where Leon’s hand seared my skin.
"I'm fine," I manage to say. "I have to go."
With one last look at Leon, I turn and run. I hear Hank's voice behind me, warning Leon not to follow, but I don't stop.
Can't stop.
I run until my lungs burn and my legs feel like jelly. I find myself in an alley, leaning against a brick wall as I try to catch my breath. The heat is building inside me, stronger and faster than I've ever experienced before.
What the fuck?
I'm back on the pills.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
It must be an effect of going off suppressants after such a long time.
Or seeinghimagain.
Admitting it makes me want to throw up, but there's still a part of me that thinks it belongs to him.
And if I knew where it was, I'd carve it the fuck out.
Last time, with this promising new pack, my heat was manageable, but out here?
Alone?
Panic claws at my throat. What am I going to do? I can't get home like this and risk taking public transit in heat. I definitely can't go back to the Scent Bar.
I'm not safe anywhere.
With shaking hands, I pull out my phone. I stare at the screen for a long moment, my mind racing. Then, before I can talk myself out of it, I dial Rhys's number, surprised when he picks up after the first ring.
"Ophelia? Is everything okay?"
His voice, calm and steady despite the edge of nervousness in his tone, sends a wave of relief through me. "Rhys," I gasp out. "I… I'm going into heat, somehow. Even though I took suppressants... I don't know what to do."
There's a pause, and when Rhys speaks again, his voice has changed.
It's deeper, more authoritative.
Pure alpha.
"Where are you?"