She’d spent so much time fearing the chains she thought Kaelen and Alarik would place on her that she never stopped to see the chains they carried themselves.
It was certainly a revelation that Alphas, too, bore their share of burdens.
A wry smile flickered across her lips. Kaelen would gloat if he knew she was thinking this way.
She exhaled, rolling her shoulders to ease the tension. The market continued humming around her—voices rising and falling in familiar cadence. Ru Rong and Su Lian chatted nearby, the oppressive heat of the afternoon making both women a little irritable, but otherwise, it was another ordinary day.
Then—something inside her shifted.
A sharp pulse, sudden and searing, clenched deep in her stomach. The breath she was about to take caught in her throat, her vision tightening, narrowing to pinpricks of light. Her fingers fumbled against the counter. A woven basket of beaded bracelets slipped from her grasp, crashing onto the ground.
Ru Rong turned at the sound, her forehead wrinkling as she took in Reiya’s hunched form. “Are you all right, Yara?”
Su Lian fanned herself, grumbling. “It’s this blasted heat. The sun’s setting, and yet it feels hotter than midday.”
Reiya forced a tight laugh, bending to gather the scattered beads.
“So . . . clumsy . . . of me,” she gasped, barely hearing herself over the rushing throb of blood in her ears. The tight clenching in her stomach deepened, low and insistent, pulsing like an ember catching flame.
No.No, this couldn’t be happening. She took her Heat suppression tea faithfully, religiously. She’d measured each serving with careful precision, never missing a dose, never taking a risk. It should’ve been working.
But it seemed her body didn’t care.
The stall, the voices around her, the shifting crowd—all of it blurred as liquid fire licked through her veins, molten and consuming, pooling low in her core. It twisted deep, shuddering waves stealing the breath from her lungs. Her hands trembled as she reached for the stall’s edge, grip tight. The scents of the market—spices, sandalwood, roasted almonds, sunbaked earth—warped, overtaken by something richer, something darker.
Alphas. She smelled them.
The realization struck like a slap. Scattered throughout the crowd,they were unseen yet suddenly, terrifyingly present. They weren’t looking for her, not yet, but their scent curled in the air, thick and warm, pressing against her senses like a lingering touch. Inviting, beckoning.
Her body reacted before her mind could catch up. A fresh wave of burning heat rolled through her, low and coiling, the kind that made her thighs clench, her pulse stutter. Sweat bloomed between her breasts, dripping from nape along her spine. She pressed a hand to her stomach, desperate to quell the ache, to push it down.
This wasn’t happening. Her suppressantshadto work.
But then, as if a trace of her scent had slipped, a stall vendor paused mid-transaction, his nostrils flaring slightly. A group of burly men leaning against a spice cart stiffened, their conversation stalling as tension flickered between them. Their gazes began to sweep the market, looking for her.
Panic seized her chest. She had to move. Now.
“I’ll just . . . get some water,” she murmured, forcing the words past the tightness in her throat. Ru Rong and Su Lian barely glanced up, nodding absently as they continued their tasks.
Reiya turned away and left the stall, willing her steps to remain even, though her pulse thundered in her ears. The wagon was too far, a maze of bodies standing between her and safety. She’d never make it without being noticed. Her feet carried her forward without thought, instinct taking over, but not to the caravanserai, not to the wagon.
The bathhouse.
It was a place of refuge, a sanctuary where scent didn’t matter, where instincts could be hidden away behind thick, perfumed steam and a door she could barricade.
Each step was a battle. The scorching earth beneath her feet felt unsteady, shifting like sand beneath a rising tide. The scents of the market thickened around her—spices, sweat, the musk of bodies moving too close—every note sharper, more overwhelming. She forced herself forward, muscles trembling with the effort to keep her movements controlled, to not betray the desperate fire clawing through her veins.
The bathhouse stood at the end of the path, its domed roof risinglike an oasis in the desert, a shimmering mirage against the sweltering haze of the late afternoon. The intricate blue and green mosaics caught the sunlight, offering cool relief.
She focused on that, on the promise of sanctuary, even as heat licked up her spine. Demanding, insistent. Her breath came in uneven, shuddering pants. She clenched her fists, fingers twitching, as if sheer stubbornness alone could drive the need back into silence.
Reiya reached the outer gates just as another wave of heat tore through her, sinking into her bones like molten iron. Her knees nearly buckled, a strangled sound catching in her throat. The world blurred. People moved behind her, voices fading into an indistinct hum.
She exhaled shakily, gripping the door frame as if it were the only thing keeping her upright. She told herself: Just a little farther, just a little longer.
A bathhouse attendant turned at the sound of her unsteady steps, eyes widening.
“Mistress Solmaz?” Reiya rasped, barely managing the words.
