Page 17 of Heat Me

So, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, watching the mosaic of streetlights play across it. I felt trapped by my own principles, which, for some reason, I felt shouldn’t be crossed.

Someone else might’ve thought I was being ridiculous, but I knew I couldn’t have done it differently—not with someone like Damien.

I fell asleep with difficulty, every fiber of my being wanting to get up and go to his apartment. Only my sense of decency held me back.

UTTERLY HOPEFUL

I woke up with my head pounding and my throat dry—my need to see Damien was getting downright terrifying. My hands were trembling, and my heart was racing like I’d just sprinted a mile. Even a cold shower barely brought me back to my senses. My head was still spinning. What was happening to me?

This shit was really starting to feel like the legendary Pull that True Mates supposedly felt for each other. It wasn’t normal to be so fixated on someone! I’d never felt anything this intense with any of the guys I’d slept with before. This was something else entirely—my whole body felt strung out, like a guitar string pulled way too tight.

I tried distracting myself by going online to read more about this phenomenon. Turned out, the Pull greatly intensified after a few days. And Monday was the fourth day since I’d last seen Damien. Beyond that, it was supposed to get even worse physically: headaches, nausea, dizziness, spiking stress hormones. If it went on too long—say, ten more days—True Mates could even risk losing consciousness, falling into a coma, or… dying.

I stared at the screen, panic bubbling up, but at least there was one comfort: Damien had to be feeling this too. There was no way this was one-sided.

Or… was it?

My answer came soon enough.

While I was half-sitting and half-hanging off the side of my desk, my phone buzzed with a text notification. That little beep shot straight through me, setting my hands trembling even more. I scrambled to grab it and read the three words on the screen:

"Come ASAP!"

Fuck!

I shot up instantly, throwing on a T-shirt mid-run. I fired off a quick text to Mr. Ragu, telling him the situation I’d mentioned was confirmed, and I’d be offline for the next few days. I knew omega heats varied, usually lasting two to five days depending on stress, age, and hormone levels.

Heart pounding, I drove through the city like a maniac, probably breaking a few traffic laws, but I made it in record time—twelve minutes, way faster than before. I sprinted to Damien’s door and pounded on it, not letting up for a second.

Inside, I heard muffled voices—a heated argument I could make out with my heightened hearing.

"…are you crazy?"

"Get out of my way!"

"This is twisted! What’s your problem?"

"I changed my mind—now move!"

My anxiety spiked with every passing second.

"Like hell I’m letting him in—aaagh!"

A strange sound followed, then a man’s high-pitched scream. My pulse skyrocketed, and a tingling sensation in my neck glands told me my body was gearing up to fight. But just then, the door creaked open, and there he was: Damien, looking at me from behind his thick glasses.

The scent of his starting heat hit me like a freight train, sending shivers down my spine. I could even smell his slick.

Damien was only wearing a pale pink T-shirt, and the sight of him like that made my chest ache. It looked like he’d been fucking with someone else. But if that was the case, why had he changed his mind?

"Hey, Damien," I whispered, forcing my voice to sound calm.

I glanced past him and spotted a young alpha, probably around Damien’s age, lying on the floor and glaring up at me with pure fury. He was only in his boxers, and I couldn’t help but grimace. The thought of them hooking up stung, but I had no claim on Damien, so I kept my feelings in check.

"What do you want, loser? Get out," the alpha sneered.

"Well, I was invited," I shot back. "And I’m not going anywhere unless Damien says so."

The alpha growled and tried to push himself up, but he just slumped back down, shaking. I turned to Damien, raising an eyebrow.

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