It was the most terrifying thing I’ve seen in real life. It was also the sexiest.
That man, the wild man, the alpha, pounds at my door.
“Good boy,” he says, the other part of him, the good man, pained and suffering. “Don’t let me in yet.”
He slams into the door and growls again. I hear two distinct thuds, his hands maybe, and then something else.
Wait.
Is that his cock thrusting against the door?
I clamp my hand to my mouth and freeze.
Oh shit.
I know what this is. I know what’s happened.
Branson’s in a rut.
Just my luck. My first heat. The middle of goddamn nowhere. An immense, powerful alpha with an immense, powerful dick—and I’ve somehow gone and put him into a rut.
Oh, my poor asshole.
The strange thing is, even as I think all that, I feel oddly proud. Oddly pleased. Complimented beyond words that little ole me has had this effect on an alpha like Branson.
It’s clearly the heat talking, but what can one do?
No, seriously, it’s a genuine question. What can one do?
I can’t think of anything, and being locked in this room, nest or no nest, with Branson banging on the door, is making me feel antsy.
I decide to avoid the issue by brushing my teeth and taking a nice cold shower. My legs tremble the entire time I’m in the cubicle, and by the time I’ve rinsed all the suds off, I can hardly stay upright. The leaden ache that’s plagued me for hours gnaws deeper now. Sharper. Hollowing me out so much that it’s impossible to experience it and be quiet at the same time.
I dry myself and wobble back to my nest, warbling pitifully. I lie down, naked, and try to make myself comfortable. I feel like I did last night, but ten times worse—I can’t find a comfortable position no matter what I do. The only thing that helps even a little is rocking my hips like a whore.
Time passes agonizingly slowly. Now and again, the pain is so severe that I cry out and Branson throws himself against the door, bellowing my name. Each time it happens, the sound affects me worse than it did before.
At last, there’s a lull. A brief moment of respite. The ache in my core eases, and for a second, I don’t even feel hot. I close my eyes and sigh in relief.
The next second, everything changes. An avalanche of pure, scorching heat crashes into me, hitting me from theback and the front, shooting up my spine and frying my brain. The pain is instant and everywhere. Deep and stabbing, splitting me in two.
I scream when it happens, and on the other side of the door, Branson roars.
It’s like everyone says: you’ll know when you know.
I didn’t know before. Now I do.
Whatever just happened in my body was different. Not a surge or a turn. Not an anomaly or the unknown. It was a wave. A distinctive wave. A wave with a trough and a clear crest.
A heat wave.
I clamber to my feet, stumbling to the door. The air around me is thick and hazy, tugging at my ankles, making it hard for me to walk. I hardly feel it. There’s only one thing on my mind.
My alpha.
I have to get to him.
I unlock the door, quivering from head to toe when I see him. He’s Branson, but not the Branson I know. He’s not Jensen’s brother, and he’s not the man who coaxed me into drinking electrolytes this morning. This Branson is an animal. He’s wild. His hair is a mess, and he’s wearing a tight white tank top that looks two sizes too small. Ink and muscle ripple when he moves and a low sound reverberatesfrom his chest. I don’t know this man, but I do. This is Branson from a different time and place. This is Branson who belongs outdoors.
