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“So, what’s new?” Zade asked, pressing his lips together and looking around the table at the three of us. “We should probably talk about Gavyn, right? Has he been up to anything in your territories?”

The three of them talk, and I sink into my own thoughts. I don’t have anything to share about Gavyn—as far as I can tell, our storehouses have been left alone—but I could tell my friends that this past week has been hell.

Visiting with Mylah is one thing. Playing chess against her has been an unexpected treat, a new way to experience the game. With my father, chess was always a test. An unfailing measure of my aptitude.

But with Mylah, it’s just…fun. She has a habit of clapping when she wiggles through my defenses. When she gets intense, a tiny wrinkle forms between her eyebrows. I have to resist the urge to reach out and smooth it with my thumb.

Her room is, of course, dripping with her scent. That hasn’t been a problem.

What has been a problem is my sister taking full advantage of the time I’ve allowed her with Mylah. Bringing her to every corner of the castle.

There’s not a single spot I can go to that’s not steeped in her scent. The kitchens, every sitting room. The gardens, bathrooms—everywhere.

One day, I even discovered that Aurora had brought Mylah to my drawing room, claiming it had better light for them to do their needlepoint. It was obvious that Mylah had never done or even seen needlepoint before in her life, but I couldn’t stop watching her. Her fingers on the loop, thumb brushing over the back of the canvas as she pushed the thread in and out, creating a design.

When Mylah caught my gaze, there was something secret there in the look we shared. And it was odd. Logically, I know that needlepoint is an omega hobby. And chess is for alphas. Still, Mylah was so clearly out of place with the hoop held up in her hands.

Needlepoint is something I’ve seen Aurora doing on innumerable occasions. Something I had never before considered to be erotic—not even close. Simply one of the sanctioned hobbies for an omega, and a proper one assigned by our father to my sister. A way for her to spend her time while I was learning strategy and training and developing my leadership abilities.

But at that moment, needlepoint was suddenly different. Suddenly something I absolutely could not stop watching Mylah do.

Mylah.

Her name sticks in my head, making it hard to think. This week, I’ve been to her room nearly every day. I’ve brought her books—even some beyond what she’s asked for. Watching her face as she accepts them is gratifying enough that I’ve daydreamed about bringing her down to the library, getting to see her awe at the sheer volume of them.

But Aurora flouncing about the place with Mylah is one thing. My visits to her have to look like they’re for a reason.

Each time I see her, in the back of my mind, there’s the knowledge that she will go into heat soon. She must have had one just before the Moon Goddess festival—that’s when my headaches were the worst.

If the timing lines up, that means in the next week or two, she should have another.

What will happen then? Will my guards truly be able to contain me? To keep me from her when her scent sticks on every object in this damn castle? When I’ve already used up every ounce of my damn willpower to not go into a rut?

The logical thing to do might be to let her go. Get more distance between us, like before when I could tell she was in a heat but didn’t have the capacity to go after her. There was enough distance that I could almost feel her calling for me, but I could resist it.

Now, we’re too close. If she asks for me—and I know she will, she always does—I won’t be able to keep from going to her.

“Augustus.”

I blink out of my thoughts and look to Brack, who stares back at me with an unreadable expression. Actually, all three of them are staring at me. I was so lost in my thoughts that I’m not even sure which of them was saying my name. Obviously, they’ve been talking for a while, maybe trying to get my attention. And I’ve been in my head.

“Sorry.” I choke it out, trying to search back in time, to see if my mind retained anything they were just saying. “No—yeah. Nothing new here, with Gavyn. Seems like he got the message we were trying to send.”

They continue to stare at me. I realize, after a few uncomfortable beats, that they must have already moved on from the conversation about Gavyn. They’re looking at me like I’m turning green.

“Seriously, man,” Zade says, anxiety on his face as he looks me over, searching for the cause of the strange behavior. “What’s going on with you?”

“Yeah,” Denvil says, for once not in a joking mood, his face flat and sullen. “You’re always like this. I mean, you didn’t use to be like this”

“Been like this for a while,” Brack adds, crossing his arms. “Worse lately.”

For a fraction of a second, I think that maybe I should just tell them the truth. Tell them about Mylah.

I could tell them.

“Yeah, guys, do you remember that night shortly after Zade’s father died? When we went out to celebrate in the Northern territory? Remember when I disappeared from the club for ten minutes and you were all dogging me about slipping off with some girl?” I’d say.

“Fuck yeah, I remember,” Denvil might say, grinning at me, not realizing the admission heading his way. “I fucking knew it, you did slip off with some girl, didn’t you? Is that the problem? You need laid, man?”