Page 92 of Hot Knot Summer
“Goodbye, Jess,” I laugh, hanging up before she can make any more outrageous demands.
I’m still smiling as I finish the last of the pancakes, licking syrup from my fingers. Talking to Jess always helps put things into perspective. Maybe she’s right, and I don’t need to overthink this. Maybe I can just... experience it. See where it leads.
But my body feels... different. There’s a lingering warmth under my skin, not the desperate fever of last night, but something subtler, waiting. The calm before the storm.
I need a shower, I decide. Maybe that will help clear my head.
I make it halfway to the bathroom when a sharp, twisting pain hits in my lower abdomen. I drop to my knees with a gasp. It’s followed immediately by a rush of heat so intense it feels like I’m being consumed from the inside out by flames.
“No,” I whimper, clutching the wall for support. “Not now. Not alone.”
But my body doesn’t care about convenient timing. The fever surges through me in waves, each more powerful than the last. Between my thighs, I’m suddenly soaking wet, slick coating my inner legs as my core pulses with urgency.
I try to stand, but another wave of pain and heatcrashes through me, driving me back to the floor. This isn’t like any heat I’ve experienced before. It’s faster, stronger, and overwhelming in its demands. And way too early.
With a monumental effort, I crawl to my bedroom, thinking my nest might provide some relief. But the carefully arranged blankets and pillows that usually soothe me feel wrong—sterile, empty, missing something essential.
Missing them.
“Fuck,” I groan, curling into a ball as another spike of pain lances through me. My hands shake as I press them against my stomach, trying to alleviate the cramping ache, but nothing helps.
On instinct, I drag myself back to River’s room, drawn by the lingering scent of him on his sheets. I collapse onto his bed, burying my face in his pillow and inhaling deeply. The familiar notes of cinnamon and brown sugar wrap around me, providing momentary relief from the white-hot need consuming me.
I roll across his bed, trying to surround myself with his scent, but it’s not enough. It’s a pale shadow of what I really need—him, his touch, his knot. My knees curl up to my chest as another wave of pain wracks me, a whimper escaping my clenched teeth.
This isn’t just desire or lust. It’s an agonizing emptiness, a void that demands to be filled. My body knows what it needs, and it’s not satisfied with substitutes or memories.
My phone. I need tocall them.
I reach for it with trembling fingers, nearly dropping it twice before managing to grip it properly. Just as I unlock the screen, it lights up with an incoming call.
Chad.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I mutter, tempted to ignore it, but the pain clouds my judgment, and I find myself swiping to answer. “What do you want?”
“Emma,” Chad’s voice, once so appealing, now grates on my nerves. “Finally. I’ve been trying to reach you for days.”
“What do you want?” I repeat, unable to keep a groan from escaping as another wave of heat rolls through me.
There’s a pause on the other end. “What’s wrong with you? You sound weird.”
“Nothing,” I grit out, sweat beading on my forehead as I fight to keep my voice steady. “If you don’t have anything important to say, I’m hanging up.”
“Shit,” he says suddenly, realization dawning. “Emma, are you in heat? Where the fuck are you? Want me to come help?”
The audacity of his offer sends a spike of anger through the haze of pain. “Fuck no,” I snarl. “Why would you say that when you’re with Megan, you asshole?”
“Megan’s not what you think,” he says defensively. “Look, we had a thing, but it’s over. She turned out to be... complicated.”
“Complicated,” I repeat flatly. “Is that what we’re calling it now? You rejected me during my heat, told me my scent was ‘wrong,’ then hooked up with my so-called friend behind my back. But sure, she’s the complicated one.”
“I made a mistake, okay?” He sounds frustrated now. “People make mistakes. I just... I don’t know, I panicked. Your scent changed, and I freaked out. But I’ve been thinking about it, and I think I overreacted.”
“How magnanimous of you,” I say, sarcasm dripping from every syllable.
“Can we just talk?” he pleads, ignoring the barb. “Please? At least let me know you’re safe during your heat. Like the old times. They were good times, right?”
For a brief, weak moment, I remember how it used to be. Chad taking care of me during my heats, attentive and passionate in a way he rarely was otherwise. But then I remember his coldness before he dumped me, how he’d turned away from me with a grimace, claiming my scent had changed, become unappealing.
