“What is it?Chérie?” I go to her instantly, my hands hovering over her arms, afraid to touch her. “Is it pain?”
“No,” she whimpers, pressing her forehead against my chest. “Yes. I don’t know. I feel like I’m burning up from the inside out.”
I wrap my arms around her, and the contact is electric. She radiates heat like a furnace. And the smell... Fuck. The smell of her. It was faint earlier, a whisper of copper and jasmine, but now it’s a siren song.
It’s thick and sweet, coating the back of my throat, smelling of slick and desperation and the unmistakable musk of an Omega going into heat.
My cock hardens instantly, a painful throb against my zipper, but I force the instinct down. This isn’t just arousal. She’s in pain. She’s terrified.
“We need help,” I say, looking around the empty corridor we’ve just stepped back into. “Simon. I need Simon.”
I guide her back inside, but she can’t walk straight.
She staggers, her movements jerky and uncoordinated. She fans her face with her hand, her chest heaving.
“It hurts,” she gasps, doubling over slightly, her hand clutching her stomach. “My stomach is cramping. Like... like knives.”
I lead her over to a row of plastic chairs, but she can’t sit still. She paces, back and forth, a trapped animal.
I pull out my phone and dial Wren. She picks up on the first ring.
“Knox? Is everything okay? Is it the baby?”
“No, the baby is fine. It’s Amber,” I say, my voice low and urgent. “I need Simon. Now. The hallway outside Maternity. Don’t bring anyone else.”
“Is it Amber?” Wren asks, her tone shifting instantly to panic.
“Yes. Just bring him. And... tell Dorian to secure the stairwell. We don’t want an audience.”
I hang up and turn back to her. She has slid down the wall to sit on the floor, her knees drawn up to her chest, rocking back and forth.
The sight of her on the floor sends a spike of pure terror through me.
This isn’t just a normal heat. This is a crash. Her biology is rebooting, and it’s tearing her apart.
“Knox,” she sobs, looking up at me with eyes swimming with tears. “I feel sick. I feel... hungry, but not for food.”
“I know,” I say, dropping to my knees in front of her. I take her hands. They are burning hot, the skin damp and clammy. “I know.”
The door bursts open two minutes later. Simon runs in, Wren right on his heels. Dorian is behind them, his face grim as he scans the hallway before standing guard near the elevators. Simon is still wearing his scrubs, his hair messy from delivery, but his eyes are sharp, assessing.
He takes one look at Amber, and his face grimaces. “Oh, boy. That’s a hell of a spike.”
He kneels beside me, reaching out to press his fingers to her wrist to check her pulse. Amber flinches, then leans into his touch, seeking relief.
She’s desperate for contact, for something to ground her.
“Her pulse is one-forty,” Simon says, his tone clipped and professional. “Her pupils are blown. Amber, can you look at me? I need you to focus.”
She tries, but she’s shaking so hard her teeth are chattering. “Simon? Make it stop. Please. It feels like my skin is too tight.”
“It’s your biology,” he says gently. “Your body has been suppressed for a long time. With the stress of the day, the adrenaline crash... it’s all coming home to roost.”
He pulls a penlight from his pocket and shines it in her eyes. She tries to bat it away, a low whine escaping her throat.
“Can you give her something?” I ask, my Alpha instincts screaming for me to fix this. “A suppressant? Anything to slow this down?”
Simon shakes his head, closing the light. “No. Absolutely not. Her heart rate is too erratic and her blood pressure is spiking. Giving her a hormonal suppressant now could stop her heart. Her system is too fragile. It’s been years, Knox. This isn’t just a heat; it’s a biological reset. It’s going to hit her hard.”
