Page 446 of Eight of Swords, Part Two

Heat disturbing the rain-cooled air.

Breath moving in and out of his lungs.

A strong, fast heart refusing to settle.

Every subtle biological confession that tells tales of his response to Riley’s sickness as it spreads like an airborne plague.

‘It’s OK,’ Riley whispers, but it comes out like a sob.

‘What is happening to you?’

‘Just do it.’

‘Do what?’

‘Don’t fucking… make me say it, don’t make it…’ Riley can’t talk, he’s losing his mind as his body locks onto what it has designated as his victor, saviour, ideal pack, strong and fierce. ‘Just fucking do it already.’

Riley can smell the heat spreading through Vasily, awakening things.

‘Is this… are you…?’

‘I can’t control it.’

Vasily moves away again.

Riley’s stomach contracts. He reaches for him, hand extended through the distance, frantic to close it. Vasily doesn’t take it.

The pain twists like a knife.

‘M-make it stop.’

‘How?’

‘Just, y’know.’ Riley closes his eyes, skin searing. ‘Just fuck me.’

‘Just fuck you,’ Vasily echoes like Riley has lost his mind. ‘Just fuck you. Just. Like, oh I dropped my keys, can you just grab them for me.’

‘I know you feel it.’

‘Yes, I feel something.’

‘Then just—’

‘But feeling something does not make “Just fuck me” reasonable.’

Riley grits his teeth, frustration climbing.

His heart is beating so fast he thinks he might die of it.

This thing inside of him enforces submission.

‘I will stay,’ Vasily says. ‘Keep watch.’

‘They can… smell me.’

‘Then I will kill when they come. Lapsha and I are bodyguards.’

‘Sorrenko,’ Riley manages through a locked jaw because his body thinks he shouldn’t speak, only whine or mewl. ‘If you’re n-not going to… to fuck me, then just… go away.’