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“Breathe for me,” I whispered. Her inhale was a ragged, silent sob. “There you go. Breathe again. I’ve not left yet. Use my scent to calm the panic.”

She only sobbed again, devolving into a true anxiety attack. I twisted my hand into the hair at the nape of her neck and pulled enough I knew it stung.

“Breathe, Sterre.” I laced the words with that primal command, strong enough anyone would be able to hear it.

She gasped like she’d been drowning.

“Again.”

This one was slightly less violent. Her shaking subsided the barest amount.

“Good,” I murmured. “Again.”

I saw Vincent in the doorway to the sitting room before he said anything. He cleared his throat, even more cautious than Simeon had been, before leaning against the threshold, tucking a hand in his pocket.

I kept my own voice quiet. “I need you to send word to the Basilica that our rites need to be postponed.”

His mouth tightened as his focus flashed to Amethyst where she was nearly inconsolable in my arms.

“What’s happened?”

“I’ve been requested to join Prescott and Lorraine as intermediaries.”

He cursed viciously. “I’ll let the Votarists know and have James pack your things.”

“Tell him he can’t use anything that I’ve worn in the last week.”

Vincent nodded. “How many guardsmen?”

Amethyst’s sob gained volume, and I tightened my hold on her.

“Everyone but Arden if Sutton and Simeon have the capability. Otherwise as many as they can.”

“I’ll discuss it with Simeon and then Phillip.” His gaze caught on Amethyst again. “I’ll clear out this side of the house.”

“Thank you.”

He only closed the door to the sitting room, engaging the lock on the handle as he did.

“This is so embarrassing,” Amethyst whispered against my chest. “Gods, I’m so sorry. You need to get get ready. I can⁠—”

I twisted my hand into her hair and tilted her head back until she looked at me. Her eyes were wide and glassy with tears. I kissed her, forcing it hard and deep, my tongue tasting hers like I’d never get the chance to do it again, giving her as much of my taste and scent and body in the hours before I had to leave.

“Callum,” she whispered.

I hummed, letting the sound drop into a purr in truth. She shivered against me, and then her hands were scrabbling under the tunic I wore, her nails biting into my stomach.

“Your heat’s growing close,” I told her even as I guided her back toward the sofa, already easing the oversized sweater she wore from one shoulder and then the other, letting it pool at her feet. “It’s why you’re so upset that I’ve having to leave. It’s not embarrassing, and there’s no reason for you to apologize for your natural reactions. Let me give you as much of me until I have to leave, all right?”

She shivered, and her eyes unfocused for a heartbeat. Then she whispered, “Please.”

I laid her on the couch and covered her with my body. “This is okay?”

“Yes.”

I pressed into her, soaking in the way she arched against me, the column of her throat as she moaned, the scrabble of her hands against my hips. I prayed that Freia would allow us a bit more time before her heat truly crested, that I would actually be here to guide her through it, be the alpha who she clung to when the need was so deep she had no sense of self. I buried my face in her neck as I took her over the crest the first time, grunting at the way she clenched around me. I palmed her thigh, coaxing it up until it pressed into her chest, forcing the angle deeper.

“This is okay?”