"Okay. Okay." I heard her moving, heard the rustle of fabric that was somehow deafening, heard her heartbeat—actually heard her heartbeat, steady and quick with worry. "I'm going to get Neal. Just stay here."
"No, I—" I stood up too fast. The room spun. I grabbed the wall to steady myself and felt the stone under my fingertips like it was carved into my palm. "I need to go to the Healing Center."
"You need to stay in bed."
"I need to see the see Cal and Stone."
I didn't know why. Couldn't explain it. But something was pulling me toward the east wing. An instinct I couldn't name and couldn't ignore.
Ivy argued, but I was already getting dressed. Every piece of clothing felt wrong—too tight, too rough, too present against my hypersensitive skin. I settled on the loosest shirt I owned and a pair of soft cotton pants, and even those felt like too much.
The walk across campus was a nightmare.
The morning was cold, but I could feel every shift in the breeze against my face. I could hear conversations from inside the buildings as I walked—not just murmurs, but actual words, clear as if the speakers were standing beside me.
And underneath it all, a warmth was building.
It had started last night, that pilot light in my belly. Now it was spreading. Not unpleasant—not yet—but impossible to ignore. A low, steady heat that pulsed in time with my heartbeat.
By the time I reached the Healing Center, I was sweating.
I pushed through the doors to the east wing and stopped.
Every head turned.
Gray was in the common area with Ben and two of the other ferals. They'd been sitting quietly, working on some kind of puzzle Neal had given them—but the moment I stepped through the door, they all went still. Their heads came up in unison, nostrils flaring, eyes locking onto me with an intensity that made my breath catch.
Gray stood first. Then Ben. Then the others, rising like puppets pulled by the same string.
They moved toward me.
Not aggressive. Not threatening. But drawn, like I was a magnet and they were iron filings helpless against the pull. Gray reached me first, pressing close to my side, his nose brushing against my arm. Ben whined—that high, desperate sound I'd heard during the run—and dropped to his knees at my feet.
"Lumi."
Cal's voice. I turned.
He was standing in the doorway to his room, bare-chested, his body rigid with tension. His eyes were fixed on me, and there was something in them I'd never seen before. Not just recognition. Not just bond-awareness.
Hunger.
"Something's happening to you." His voice was rough. Strained. "We can all feel it."
"I know." My own voice came out strange. Thicker. "I woke up and everything was—"
"Different." He crossed the room in three strides. Stopped just short of touching me. His nostrils flared, and I watched his pupils dilate. "You smell different. You smell like—"
He didn't finish. Couldn't, maybe.
"Where's Stone?" I asked.
Cal's jaw tightened. "His room. He won't come out."
"Why?"
"Because he's barely holding human form." Cal's eyes met mine. "Not from rage this time. From something else."
Need. He didn't say it, but I heard it anyway.
