Chapter 28 #2
Solmaz smoothed damp curls from her forehead, her touch light, maternal. “From the look of it, it’s only the prelude to your true Heat—the Kindling.”
Reiya swallowed hard, her throat dry, her pulse erratic. “I’ve been taking”—a sharp gasp cut through her words as another wave hit, her nails digging into the sheets—“Heat suppression remedies. Is it not . . . supposed to stop the symptoms?”
Solmaz sighed, dipping a cloth into a bowl of water and wringing it dry. She pressed the cool rag against the back of Reiya’s neck.
“My dear, those teas are a temporary measure at best. The more you rely on them, the more your body resists. Eventually, they fail altogether.”
Reiya squeezed her eyes shut, tears spiking her lashes. That couldn’t be true. She had been careful, so careful.
The thought of losing control now, here, in the middle of Zohara sent a fresh wave of panic spiralling through her.
“Can I . . . just ride this out? This . . . Kindling?” The words came hoarse, barely above a whisper, tasting of desperation.
Solmaz’s touch softened, but there was no comfort in it. “You can try.” A pause. “But . . . even if this isn’t true Heat, the pain will still be considerable, and it will worsen. If you fight it, it will return with a vengeance—stronger, longer, more unforgiving.”
She hesitated, then spoke again, her tone gentler but no less firm.
“You have two choices, my girl. You can stay here and endure it alone, or call an Alpha you trust. Is there . . . anyone?”
Reiya’s breath shuddered as she pressed her forehead against the pillow. Instinct screamed at her, clawing at the edges of her control, demanding the presence of someone who could soothe the ache building in her bones .
Her lips barely moved around the words before she could second-guess them.
“Kai and Lark . . . at the caravanserai.”
Solmaz nodded, her hand a steady presence against Reiya’s back. “I’ll send a messenger to fetch them straightaway.”
R eiya lost all sense of time. Minutes, hours—she couldn’t tell anymore. The world narrowed to the hollow ache between her ribs, to the slow, merciless build of heat clawing through her. At first, the waves came and went, cruel in their false mercy. But soon, even that fled. Relief ceased to exist.
Only fire remained—slow, relentless, winding tighter with every pulse in her veins, until it felt like her very bones were kindling, burning from within.
Solmaz stayed by her side, perched on the edge of the bed, wiping her sweat-damp skin with a cool rag, murmuring soft reassurances.
Reiya couldn’t comprehend them—couldn’t think past the relentless ache in her body.
She curled tighter into herself, pressing her forehead to the silk cushions.
Her skin was too hot, too sensitive, prickling with every shift of fabric.
Between her thighs, a cruel, rhythmic pulse throbbed—demanding, unbearable.
It terrified her.
Because she wanted . Gods, she wanted them.
Kaelen, with his sunlit scent, his steady hands, his easy laughter that made her forget why she was running.
And Alarik—his quiet smoulder, solid strength wrapped in silence, so unshakable it felt like the world could collapse and he wouldn’t let her fall.
Panic curled through her chest. Would this Heat push her past her limits? Would she wake from this haze to find she’d surrendered the things she wasn’t ready to give?
Then—their scents reached her.
A shudder wracked her at the first trace of it. Kaelen’s bright, sun- warmed cedar, fresh and clean. Alarik’s deeper, darker spice. Both familiar. Both theirs.
She gasped, her fingers fisting in the silk sheets.
They’d arrived.
The door swung open, and then Kaelen was there, rushing toward her in a blur of gold.
She barely had the strength to lift her head, but she felt him—felt the moment he was close enough for his body’s warmth to brush against her own.
His hands framed her face, gentle and steady, thumbs stroking over her damp skin.
His scent wrapped around her, and the primal part of her latched onto it like a lifeline.
“Yara,” he murmured, his voice a low, firm anchor in the haze.
A fractured whimper escaped her as she reached for him, clutching at his tunic, desperate for something—relief, comfort, him . She barely registered Solmaz retreating, the soft click of the door shutting behind her.
Kaelen’s jaw tightened as he took in her flushed cheeks, the way she trembled against him. “Oh, love . . .” His grip tightened.
Behind him, Alarik stood at the foot of the bed—tense, unreadable—but his dark eyes tracked the rise and fall of her chest. His broad frame poised, coiled tight, like a force barely held in check.
Kaelen tilted her chin, forcing her gaze to meet his. “We’re here. We’ve got you.”
Another wave of heat slammed into her, bowing her spine, tearing a broken sound from her lips.
Kaelen must’ve seen the panic in her tearful eyes, because his hands gentled, smoothing slow strokes down her arms.
“It’s alright, Sáel . Just breathe.”
Sáel.
The word melted into her like sunlight on frost. Beautiful. Melodic. She wondered what it meant—but she couldn’t form the words to ask. She could barely manage a nod, every intake of air shallow, uneven. Her body screamed for more, for something she wasn’t sure she could control.
She’d barely spoken to Kaelen since the teahouse, tasks and chores around the wagon taking precedents in all interactions.
But their conversation had lingered in her mind, an echo she couldn’t silence, a question she couldn’t yet answer.
Distance had settled between them in the days that followed—not cold, not tense, just . . . waiting.
And yet, here he was, tender as ever, catching her when she reached out for him, holding her when she needed him.
No teasing, no smug remarks. Just Kaelen, moving without hesitation, gathering her into his arms as if she weighed nothing. As if his arms had always been meant to hold her.
Alarik hesitated, but only for a second.
The bed dipped behind her, his broad chest pressing against her back, his large hands settling carefully at her waist.
He exhaled, slow and measured, warm puffs of air ghosting her nape, singeing her nerve endings. Reiya whimpered and nestled back against him, the pressure inside her mounting, unbearable.
“It’s—” Another sharp gasp and her body curled tighter, as if she could fold away from the all-consuming heat.
“I know.” Kaelen’s voice was steady, soothing, his hands smoothing long, patient strokes down her arm. “Breathe, love. Just breathe.”
She tried. Gods, she tried.
But her body wasn’t listening. Instinct screamed for more—more touch, more connection, more relief from the fire tearing through her veins. She pressed against him, rubbing her cheek against the bare skin of his throat, drawn to the scent, the solidity of him.
Her insides craved, begged, drowning in an unbearable need to be held, to be anchored before she drowned in agony.
Kaelen exhaled sharply, but he didn’t pull away. His fingers slid into her hair, cradling the back of her skull, holding her to him.
“That’s it,” he soothed. “I’ve got you.”
Behind her, Alarik’s grip firmed, his presence a steady wall at her back. One of his hands traced slow circles at her waist, anchoring her against the worst of the trembling. He didn’t speak, but his touch said enough: ‘ You’re not alone.’
Reiya shuddered, her fingers curling into Kaelen’s tunic.
She dragged in a big gulp of air, then another, taking their scents into her lungs.
The ache remained, the fevered burn thrumming low and insistent, but somehow .
. . the panic began to ebb. Its unbearable edge dulled under their care and warmth.
The desperation softened, though her body still wanted to press closer, to take . . .
She clenched her fists, fighting the urge, fighting herself.
“Reiya.” Kaelen’s voice was quieter now, coaxing. “Look at me.”
It took effort, but she lifted her head, her gaze dragging upward until it met his.
“This is only Kindling,” he said softly. “If it were your Heat, you would’ve been even more mindless with need.”
She blinked, her thoughts still sluggish.
Kaelen’s arms tightened around her, his lips brushing lightly against her temple. “Heat is instinct-driven, yes, but instincts don’t always have to be obeyed in full.”
He lifted her hand, twining their fingers together, pressing her palm over his chest, right above the steady thrum of his heart.
“Sometimes, just a touch is enough. Sometimes, just scenting is enough. And sometimes”—his voice softened—“just holding someone is enough.”
Reiya let out a shaky sigh.
She’d always believed Heat was an unrelenting force, an impossible demand that could only be extinguished by surrendering everything .
That was what she had feared most—that her body, in its most vulnerable state, would betray her completely, blind to sense or reason, leaving her powerless beneath any Alpha’s claim.
But they weren’t claiming her.
Behind her, Alarik shifted slightly, his hand smoothing down her side in slow, careful strokes, a harbour in the storm raging inside her.
“Until the full Heat comes?” She shuddered.
Kaelen’s knuckles brushed along her cheekbone, his touch impossibly gentle. His golden eyes, warm and steady, held hers with quiet intent.
“Yes. But you’re not there yet. So rest easy,” he murmured, his voice low, soothing. “You don’t have to do anything—you don’t have to be anything. Alarik and I will hold you, keep you close. Let our scents wrap around you, let us be what you need. ”
He paused to brush a lock of hair away from her forehead. “That’s all it takes. Just breathe, and we’ll take care of the rest.”
Reiya’s heart clenched. She’d feared losing herself. But now . . .
Now, she saw the truth.
She trusted them .
They weren’t pushing, weren’t taking.
They were holding her through it.
A low whimper left her, damp fingers tightening in Kaelen’s tunic. “I was scared,” she admitted, her voice barely more than a squeak.
Kaelen pressed a lingering kiss to her temple. “I know, Sáel.”
The word curled inside her, soft and tender. She didn’t know its meaning, but it felt precious.
Behind her, Alarik’s arm tightened around her waist, his heartbeat steady, his body warm against her spine.
“You’re alright,” he murmured. “We’ve got you.”
Reiya sagged between them, the worst of the ache ebbing further. The burning hadn’t vanished completely, but the desperation had dimmed, the need no longer unbearable.
She felt safe—in Kaelen’s arms, with Alarik behind her.
She closed her eyes.
And let herself be held.