Page 2 of Stream Heat
Something about his voice sent an unexpected shiver down my spine. I brushed it off as annoyance and focused on the game, but my hands felt suddenly clammy on my mouse.
You okay, Queen?
My chat picked up on something, maybe a flicker in my expression.
"I'm fine," I said dismissively, wiping sweat from my forehead. Was it hot in here? I reached for my water bottle, accidentally knocking over my pill container. "Shit."
I quickly scooped the two small white tablets that spilled back into their case before the camera could catch them clearly. Just vitamins, as far as anyone watching knew. Just normal supplements for a normal Beta streamer with normal Beta biology. Definitely.
"Butterfingers much?" Ash's deep voice cut through my headset.
"Bite me, Grave," I muttered, popping one of the pills and washing it down. The familiar bitter taste lingered on my tongue, a small price to pay for the career I'd built.
"Gladly," he shot back, and again that strange shiver ran through me.
What the hell was wrong with me today? I never reacted to Alpha baiting. That was my whole brand, the sharp-tongued Beta who could hang with the Alphas without all the messy designation bullshit. The streamer who succeeded on skill, not biology.
"Focus up, boys," I said, forcing steel back into my voice. "Final round, and I'd hate for your viewers to see you get completely embarrassed."
The match intensified, my team pushing forward with coordinated precision. I was in the zone, my commentary flowing with practiced ease.
"And that's how you clear a point, children. Take notes, Pack Wrecked. This is what actual strategy looks like, not just Alpha hormones and posturing."
The sponsor notification popped up in my stream overlay, RazorTech Gaming, my biggest contract, highlighting their new peripheral line. Perfect timing during peak viewership. Their rep would be pleased. I gave my sponsor face along with a fifteen-second flawless read with eye contact, half-smile, the glimmer of teeth, all before snapping back to the match.
Another wave of heat washed over me, stronger this time. My shirt clung uncomfortably to my back. The lights in my streaming room suddenly seemed too bright, the sounds in my headset too loud. I was aware, acutely, of the way my heart hammered just a little too hard.
Queen, you're looking flushed. You sick?
"Just hot from carrying this entire match," I deflected, but my voice sounded strange even to my own ears, higher, tighter.
Reid's character appeared in my sights, and I lined up the shot that would clinch our victory. My finger tensed on the mouse button, but something was wrong. My vision blurred slightly, the screen swimming before me.
"Is it hot in here?" I murmured, not meaning to say it aloud.
"What's that, Queen?" Reid asked, his voice suddenly sharp with attention.
I missed the shot, a clean, easy headshot that I would normally nail in my sleep.
"Nothing," I snapped, embarrassed by the mistake. "Just wondering if your massive ego is generating excess heat through my screen."
But the sensation was getting worse. My skin felt hypersensitive; the fabric of my hoodie suddenly unbearable against my arms. Sounds became amplified, the click of my keyboard like thunder, the voices in my headset vibrating through me in ways they never had before.
Is Quinn okay? Like for real.
She looks sick!
someone check on her
"Quinn." Reid's voice had changed completely and he used my last name, which let me know that he was definitely not playing around. Gone was the competitive edge, replaced with something that washed over me like a physical touch. The fact that he called me by my last name only made it worse. "Are you okay?"
"Don't be ridiculous," I hissed, but even as I spoke, another wave crashed through me. A desperate, clawing need building in my core. My thighs pressed together desperately. A slick warmth pooled where it shouldn’t. My vision swam. I could feel my pupils blow wide.
"I think we need to end the stream," Theo said, his usually chaotic energy suddenly focused and serious.
"I'm fine," I insisted, even as my hands trembled on the mouse. "Just feeling a little off."
The chat was moving too fast to read now:
