She was down in the training center, taking out a pile of hot sheets from the dryer, when the storm hit.
Later, much later, a lifetime later, she would remember with clarity the feel of that soft heat against her torso, the warmth burrowing into her gut and making sweat break out on her forehead.
She would remember forever turning to the side and putting the fluffy white sheets on the counter.
Because when she stepped back, her needing hit for the second time in her life.
At first, it just felt as though she were still holding on to the sheets, the warmth remaining with her, along with a weight upon her belly sure as though she was as yet carrying the load.
As perspiration dripped down the side of her face, she glanced over at the thermostat on the wall, thinking that it was malfunctioning or set too high. But no, it read seventy degrees.
With a frown, she looked down at herself. Although she wore naught but a T-shirt and a pair of what they called “yoga” pants, it was as though she had on the parka she wore out with Xhex—
A curling cramp gripped her lower abdomen, fisting up around her womb, her legs wobbling until she had no choice but to allow herself to go down onto the floor. And this was a good thing, at least temporarily. The concrete was cold and she stretched out on it—until the next big crunch grabbed hold of her.
Pressing her hands into her pelvis, she balled up and strained, throwing her head back as she tried to escape whatever had o’ertaken her body.
And then it started.
Her sex, which had been throbbing a bit ever since Tohr and she had been together for those rough, intense matings before he’d left, gained its own proper heartbeat, the core of her begging for the only thing that would give it relief.
A male—
The sexual craving hit her so viciously, she couldn’t have stood if she’d had to, couldn’t have thought of aught else had she chosen to, couldn’t have spoken intelligible words had she wanted to.
This was so much worse than it had been with the
And this was her fault… this was
She hadn’t been going over to the Sanctuary. It had been… Dearest Virgin Scribe, it had been months since she had tarried at the Far Side to regulate her cycle. Indeed, there had been no need to refresh herself for blood, because Tohr had been feeding her, and she hadn’t wanted to miss even a moment with him.
She should have known this was coming—
Gritting her teeth, she panted hard through another peak. Then, just as it relented and she was about to yell for help, the door was thrown wide.
Dr. Manello stopped short, his face a mask of confusion. “What the—”
He sagged against the doorjamb, and abruptly covered the front of his hips with his hands. “Are you okay —”
As the craving crescendoed again, she caught a fleeting image of him going loose where he stood, but then her lids clamped down and her jaw locked and she was momentarily lost.
From a distance, she heard him say, “Let me get Jane.”
Seeking more of the cold floor, Autumn rolled over onto her back, but as her knees wouldn’t unhinge, she didn’t have enough surface contact. Back to the side. Then over onto her stomach, even though her legs wanted to recurl against her chest.
Pushing down with her hands, she tried to take control of the sensation and manipulate her position, tried to find another arch or breath or stretch of the arms or thighs to bring relief.
There was none to be had. She was at the center of a lion’s den, great teeth of need biting into her, tearing at her flesh, racking her bones. This was the culmination of those hot flashes that she had mistaken for spikes of passion, and the bursts of chills that she had chalked up to premonitions, and the bouts of vague nausea that she had blamed on big meals. This was the exhaustion. The appetite. Probably the hot sex that she had been having of late with Tohrment.
As she moaned, she heard her name being said and thought someone was talking to her. But it wasn’t until the craving ebbed that she could open her eyes and see that yes, in fact, she was not alone.
Doc Jane was kneeling before her. “Autumn, can you hear me?”
“I…”
The healer’s pale hand brushed tangled strands of blond out of her face. “Autumn, I think this is your needing—would that be right?”
Autumn nodded until the wave of hormones resurged, robbing her of everything but the overwhelming need for sexual relief.
Which her body knew could only come from a male.
Her male. The one she loved.
Tohrment…
“Okay, okay, we’ll call him—”
Autumn threw out a hand and grabbed the other female’s arm. Forcing her eyes to work, she pegged the healer with a hard demand. “Do
It would kill him. To service her in her need? He’d never do that—sex was one thing, but he’d already lost a child—
“Autumn, honey… that’s his choice, don’t you think?”
“Don’t call him… don’t you dare call him.…”
FIFTY-SIX
Qhuinn hated nights off. Absolutely despised them.
As he sat back on his bed, staring at a TV that wasn’t on, it dawned on him he’d been watching nothing for close to an hour now. Still, getting the remote and picking a channel just seemed like a lot of fucking hassle for not much in return.
Damn it, there were only so many miles you could run down in the gym. Only so much surfing you could do on the Internet. A limited number of trips you could take up and down to the kitchen…
Yeah, and that last one was especially true, given Saxton was still using the library as his own personal office. That “supersecret king stuff” was taking him for frickin’ ever.
Either that or he was getting distracted a lot. By a certain redhead—
Okay, not going there. Nope.
Qhuinn glanced at his watch again. Eleven o’clock. “Fucking hell.”
Seven thirty tomorrow night was an eternity away.
Shifting his eyes to the flat wall across the way, he was willing to bet John Matthew was next door, locked in the same grind. Maybe they should head out and have a drink somewhere.
Then again, meh. Did he really want to go to the effort of getting dressed just to have a beer around a bunch of drunk, horny humans? At one point in time, it would have sexed him up. Now, the prospect of all that pathetic, alcohol-induced yearning depressed the shit out of him.
He didn’t want to be home. Didn’t want to be out.
Christ, he wasn’t sure he even wanted to be fighting, for that matter. The war just seemed like a slightly more interesting slice of empty.
Oh, for fuck’s sake, what was his problem—
His phone beeped beside him and he picked it up without any real interest. The text made no sense:
Huh?
He got up, grabbed a robe, and went over to John’s. The knock was answered immediately by a whistle.
Putting his head in, he found his buddy in the same position he’d just been rocking—except the plasma
