Some volatile compound in her skin oils?Someendocrine marker carried in her sweat?Humanpheromones altered by stress, arousal, age, and the hormonal flux she kept mentioning?Couldher perimenopausal state be creating a biochemical instability the virus couldn’t adapt to?Couldthat instability be disrupting the neural lock theHungerVirushad onRavik’sBeast-brain?
No—not disrupting, he thought—interrupting.Likestatic on a signal.
The virus was broadcasting “hunger” andCassandra’sbody was broadcasting “mate.”
And inRavik, mate was winning…for now.
But why didn’t it last?
Severin flexed his burned hand without thinking and immediately regretted it.Painshot through his palm and up his wrist, pulling a low hiss from between his teeth.
Cassandra glanced over her shoulder at him.
“Don’t make me come over there,” she warned.“Itold youIwas going to treat you too in just a minute.”
“I’m fine,”Severinsaid shortly.
She gave him a stern look.
“You arenotfine.Yourhand is blistering.”
He shrugged.
“It can wait.”
She arched an eyebrow at him.
“You know, for a scientist, you’re not very smart about burns.”
Despite everything,Severinfelt the corners of his mouth twitch upwards.
“I bow to your superior expertise, my lady,” he said, inclining his head.
Cassandra lifted her chin.
“You should—Iknow whatI’mdoing.”
ThenRavikmade a low sound and shifted in the chair, drawingCassandra’sattention back to him at once.Thesound was not quite a whimper, but close enough that it madeSeverin’schest ache.
“All right now, let’s take a look at you,”Cassandramurmured, looking over the bigBeastKindred’snaked, muscular body.“Hmm, thosefikkabeetles really did a number on you, big guy.”
Severin watched as she bent toward him, her red nightgown riding up the backs of her thighs to show her luscious full ass.Helooked away at once, then looked back becauseRavikwas the patient andCassandrawas the one treating him and he needed to observe.
That was all, he told himself—just observation.
The same kind of observation that had made him watch every breath she took last night.Thesame kind of observation that had made his fangs ache when she looked up at him with flushed cheeks and allowed him to suck her nipples whileRavikfilled her with his fingers.
Severin pinched the bridge of his nose with his unhurt hand.
Goddess save him—he was a disgrace.
But he didn’t stop watching.
The burns scattered acrossRavik’schest and thighs were minor but numerous.Thefikkabeetles had apparently retained enough internal moisture to build steam under their shells until they burst, turning themselves into tiny edible projectiles.Orinedibleprojectiles, considering the state of theFoodPreparea and the lookCassandrahad given the beetle she’d picked up off the floor.
Most of the marks were superficial—first degree, perhaps shallow second in a few places.Ravik’sKindredhealing would take care of them quickly.Theburn onSeverin’sown palm was worse than most of them, though he had no intention of mentioning that untilCassandraforced the issue, which she almost certainly would later.
The injury toRavik’sshaft was another matter—Severindidn’t like the way his friend was guarding himself.Aburn to the glans or shaft could be agonizing even for aKindredmale, and ifRavikwas too disoriented to understand treatment, he might resist any attempt to apply medication.
