Chapter 3
Jamie rushed into the bathroom, locked the door, then collapsed onto the floor, gasping for breath.
His tail finally sprang out beyond his control, a fluffy tail striped pale gold drooping weakly across the tiles as it trembled. Two furry ears popped out through his hair too, the soft fur at their tips puffed up with nerves.
Jamie curled himself into a ball, his tail wrapping around him and his ears drooping low like a drenched little kitten. Something was wrong with his body.
A strange heat he'd never felt before rose from his lower belly and spread up his spine through every part of him.
His whole body burned. Every pore seemed to be crying out for something. He wanted to shout, but all that came out were broken, instinctive whispers.
He was too naive. He thought one bite wouldn't matter, but he had forgotten one thing: he was a Wildkin in heat. During heat, Crimsonberry's effects became ten times stronger. Even the slightest contact was enough to destroy every shred of reason he had.
Just when he was at his worst, the apartment door opened. Brandon was here.
Jamie heard the footsteps drawing closer and his heart nearly jumped out of his chest. He wanted to hide, wanted to pull his ears and tail back in, but his body had stopped listening to him.
All he could do was sit frozen on the cold bathroom floor and wait for judgment.
The bathroom door opened from outside. Brandon stood in the doorway, looking down at him. For one awful second, Jamie thought it was over. He was exposed, a Wildkin liar who had hidden his true identity and slipped into human society.
Brandon would be disgusted by him, throw him out, maybe even turn him over under human law and send him to the Wildkin Detention Center. That place had such a terrible reputation that just hearing about it was enough to give any Wildkin nightmares.
But Brandon only crouched down. His hand came over Jamie's forehead. His fingertips were much cooler than Jamie's burning skin, like a spring of water in the middle of a desert.
Jamie couldn't help leaning into that touch. His ears trembled lightly, and the tip of his tail wound itself around Brandon's wrist.
"You have a fever," Brandon said. His voice was flat, but Jamie still caught a thread of softness buried in it.
Jamie wanted to explain, wanted to say this wasn't a fever, but all that came out was a vague, breathy sound.
Under the Crimsonberry's influence, his mind was getting fuzzier and fuzzier. Every inch of his body ached for something, some raw and savage need he had never felt before.
Brandon lifted him off the floor. The embrace was broad and steady, carrying a faint cedar cologne.
Jamie buried his face in Brandon's neck, and that clean, appealing scent grew even stronger. His tail swayed helplessly in the air, and a tiny, satisfied purr slipped out before he could stop it.
"Don't move," Brandon said, his voice tight.
Jamie didn't listen. He lifted his head and looked at Brandon with wet, dazed eyes, his pale gold slit pupils glowing faintly under the light. He had no idea what he looked like, but he saw Brandon's pupils contract sharply.
The next second, he was laid on the bed.
The rest of memories were blurry and broken. He only remembered Brandon's hands moving over him, every place they touched catching fire. His clothes were gone, his ears and tail fully exposed, and the sounds slipping from his throat were half plea, half invitation.
Brandon didn't say a single word the whole time.