“Shit. Well, that explains everything, right?”
“… Almost.”
“Gia…”
“The other thing is that Mylo’s immune titers for the suppressants are high. His body is developing a resistance.”
“Why now? I thought it was safe to take suppressants long term.”
“It usually is. But you remember Morgan’s issue—she needed a tolerance break. Hers was a bit of an extreme case, but after she sent me her data, I started putting out calls for a study?—”
“Can you get to the point?!” The throw pillow in my lap is now in shreds. Not sure when that happened.
“I know, I know, I’m getting there. I’ve been working with a handful of patients who’ve had issues developing resistance to the suppressants. One patient was similar to Mylo; she’d been taking suppressants long enough she’d never gone into heat. She expressed interest in trying a controlled tolerance break. So, we tapered her down. It seemed like she was going into heat pretty immediately, but her hormones were all over the place. They were cycling much faster than should have been possible. We ended up calling them pre-heats. These were effectively short, irregular heat cycles, increasing in intensity until she finally went fully into heat.”
“So you’re saying Mylo’s results looked like that?”
“Yeah.”
I rub my forehead, trying to process this. “So he hasn’t really even gone into heat yet?”
“Right.”
I continue ripping the sacrificial throw pillow into smaller and smaller threads. “Your patient… when she finally did go into heat, how bad was it?”
“Bad. One of the worst I’ve seen, even compared to when I worked at the heat center.”
That’s saying something. I’ve heard Gia’s juiciest stories, and they arenotfor the faint of heart.
I take another swig of wine. “Shit… how long do we have?”
“I don’t know. But if we extrapolate from a functional theory, working from the premise that the function of a heat is to summon an alpha?—”
“Please, Gia. I can’t right now. Just tell me what I need to do.” I throw my head back against the chair as if the ceiling has answers.
“It’s better to stay close to him.”
Pain crackles through my chest. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. I’m not like Morgan, I can’t just… be close to him and not…”
Gia’s tone is measured. “Do what you need to do. Just don’t bite.”
“You mean…”
“Don’t fight the pre-heats. The faster you deal with each wave, the less disruptive it’ll be overall. The longer those instincts go unsatisfied, the worse it’ll get.”
I rock forward, propping my elbows on my knees, as Gia’s words make the world spin. Or maybe it’s the wine doing that. “You’re seriously telling me to keep fucking him?!”
“Don’t take that tone with me. You told me you didn’t want to quit or get him fired, so that’s what you’re left with.”
I throw my hands up—as if it’s so simple. “Great. Sure. Okay. Thanks.”
“There’s… one more thing.”
“Alright, go for it. It’s not like it can get worse.”
Gia makes a low, wry sound. “Tee, don’t freak out, but… I think you and Mylo have a scent match.”
If Gia’s earlier words were a splash of ice water, this is being plunged under a glacier.
