"I know, baby. I know." Neither of acknowledged how the endearment had slipped from between his lips so casually.
He carried me into the suite's living area, setting me gently on the couch. "Your fever's too high. We need to bring it down."
"Pills aren't working."
"Not pills. Ice. Cold water. Medical intervention." He disappeared into the kitchen, and I heard him filling something with ice.
Sex, I slowly rubbed at the back of my neck. The word had been left unsaid between us.
My eyes drifted to the window and I could see it was white outside.
Nothing else, just a wall of white surrounding the hotel.
Trapped.
I tried to curl into myself, but another wave hit, and I couldn't stop the cry that tore from my throat. My body was betraying me, producing so much slick that my shorts weresoaked through. This was so fucking embarrassing that I wanted to slip through the floor of the hotel suite.
Knox returned with a few fluffy white towels, ice packs, and a bowl of cold water. His jaw was clenched so tight I could see the muscle jumping, and his hands shook slightly as he knelt beside the couch.
"I'm going to put these on your pulse points," he said, voice carefully controlled. "It'll help with the fever."
The first touch of ice against my wrist made me hiss, but then the cold started to cut through the heat, providing tiny moments of relief. He pressed another to my neck, and I nearly sobbed with gratitude.
"Thank you," I whispered.
"Don't thank me yet." He soaked a cloth in cold water, wringing it out before pressing it to my forehead. "This is going to get worse before it gets better."
He was right. Every place he touched, even through the cold compress, sent electricity through my body. My scent was getting stronger, I could tell by the way his breathing changed, the way his pupils dilated until his eyes were almost black.
"You should go," I managed. "This isn’t something you should have to deal with.”
"I'm not leaving you like this." He moved the compress to my cheeks, my chest, anywhere skin was exposed and burning. "I've seen heat fever before. It can be dangerous."
"How many Omegas have you…" I cut myself off, not wanting to know.
"None," he said quietly. "But I've been reading about it. Researching it more in depth."
"Why?"
His hand stilled for a moment. "You know why."
Another wave crashed through me, and I arched off the couch, a scream building in my throat. Knox caught my hands as I clawed at my own skin, trying to relieve the pressure.
"Don't," he said, holding my wrists gently but firmly. "You'll hurt yourself."
"It already hurts!" Tears were starting to roll down my cheeks. "God, Knox, make it stop. Please, I can't…I can’t fucking take it anymore.”
"Shh." He pulled me against his chest, and the full contact made me sob harder. He smelled so good, so right. Pine and smoke and Alpha strength that my body recognized as safety, as home, as mine. "I've got you."
"You don't understand," I gasped against his shirt. "It's never been like this. It's like my body is trying to turn itself inside out."
"That's because you're fighting it." His hand stroked down my back, and even that innocent touch made me shudder. "Fighting what your body wants."
"What it wants is wrong."
"Is it?" His voice had become so strained. "Because from where I'm sitting, your body knows exactly what it needs."
I pulled back to look at him. Sweat was beading on his forehead, his whole body rigid with restraint.
