The entire space smelled of her distinct electricity, processed grains, and unknown chemical components.
And there in the middle of it lay Dorie.
Mid-crawl and completely naked. Her hand outstretched in the direction of Fenrir Prime’s door. The chamber she’d shared with him for all but this variant’s cycle. Even the ones where she made him sleep on the floor before the start of her heat.
Aengus’s core flame guttered, and his male works abruptly dropped with a painful burst from the webbing that covered his lower belly.
All of their male works would have descended. Their prime had revised her heat to emit in stronger waves over the cycles—a biological klaxon. After Dorie 386, they never again wanted to be unaware that their mate was in heat.
Aengus cut their prime a sideways look, remembering what he’d said about killing her before the rise of the full moons and she went into heat.
Would he truly end her life?
Or had it already been done for him, by his own biological design?
This was the moment of decision.
And yet, Fenrir Prime remained frozen where he stood. His entire flame burned so white it nearly hurt to look upon him. Not rage. Not murderous intent. A pain beyond both that Aengus had no classification for.
“Come,” Diarmuid said, taking the first steps forward past their unmoving prime.
Aengus joined his fellow variant, concerned she might be worse than passed out from her unmet heat.
However, she was neither.
Her head lifted as they neared, and she once again reached out. Straining her hand toward them, her face contorted in pain, confusion, and most of all, plaintive need.
“I don’t…” she croaked. “I don’t understand.”
Moons
Why me?
Now I knew.
One moment, I was getting the full story of how I’d come to receive a special invitation to be pushed into a lake. And the next, I was storming out of the room of the guy who called himself Fenrir Prime.
I knew my temper was a problem. I’d probably still be snug in my Toronto mini-studio right now if I hadn’t blown up at my bosses for giving in to President Nightwolf’s demand for a public apology and retraction of my story.
But that self-control stuff was all done.
Kiwi’s voice had completely disappeared.
Bloody February…
My da…
The prophecy…
Sadie’s hands on my back…
Getting pushed into that lake.
It had all been Knifey McFenrir. Every single lifetime.
Luckily, the room’s doors opened for me or I would have just lost it. Pulled the knife out of my pocket and used it on everyone.
As it was, I didn’t even have to break my stride as I tore out into a circular gallery with high ceilings and an emerald-green mosaic floor.
