Chapter 15
Chapter fifteen
Iwoke up wrong.
That was the only way to describe it. My eyes opened and the world was too much—too loud, too close. I squeezed them shut again and lay still, breathing slowly, waiting for my pulse to settle. When it finally did, I opened my eyes and sat up carefully.
And gasped.
The sheets against my skin felt like sandpaper. Not painful, exactly—just overwhelming. Every thread, every fiber, every tiny imperfection registered against my nerve endings like I’d never felt fabric before. I shoved the blanket away, but even the air brushing over my bare arms was too much.
"Lumi." Ivy was beside my bed now, her face creased with concern. "You don't look fine. You look like you're going to throw up."
"I'm not going to throw up." I swung my legs over the side of the mattress. The floor was cold against my feet—shockingly cold, like ice instead of wood. "I just need to—"
I stopped.
The smell hit me.
Ivy's shampoo. Lavender and something citrusy underneath. The coffee she'd been drinking—dark roast, slightly burnt. The detergent on her clothes. The faint musk of sleep still clinging to her skin. And underneath all of that, something deeper. Something that smelled like warmth and friendship.
I could smell everything.
"Lumi?" Ivy's voice was sharper now. "You're freaking me out. What's happening?"
"I don't know." I pressed my hands to my face. Tried to block out the assault of sensations. "Everything's just... more. Too much."
"Okay. Okay." I heard her moving, heard the rustle of fabric that was somehow deafening, heard her heartbeat—actually heard her heartbeat, steady and quick with worry. "I'm going to get Neal. Just stay here."
"No, I—" I stood up too fast. The room spun. I grabbed the wall to steady myself and felt the stone under my fingertips like it was carved into my palm. "I need to go to the Healing Center."
"You need to stay in bed."
"I need to see the see Cal and Stone."
I didn't know why. Couldn't explain it. But something was pulling me toward the east wing. An instinct I couldn't name and couldn't ignore.
Ivy argued, but I was already getting dressed. Every piece of clothing felt wrong—too tight, too rough, too present against my hypersensitive skin. I settled on the loosest shirt I owned and a pair of soft cotton pants, and even those felt like too much.
The walk across campus was a nightmare.
The morning was cold, but I could feel every shift in the breeze against my face. I could hear conversations from inside the buildings as I walked—not just murmurs, but actual words, clear as if the speakers were standing beside me.
And underneath it all, a warmth was building.
It had started last night, that pilot light in my belly. Now it was spreading. Not unpleasant—not yet—but impossible to ignore. A low, steady heat that pulsed in time with my heartbeat.
By the time I reached the Healing Center, I was sweating.
I pushed through the doors to the east wing and stopped.
Every head turned.
Gray was in the common area with Ben and two of the other ferals.
They'd been sitting quietly, working on some kind of puzzle Neal had given them—but the moment I stepped through the door, they all went still.
Their heads came up in unison, nostrils flaring, eyes locking onto me with an intensity that made my breath catch.
Gray stood first. Then Ben. Then the others, rising like puppets pulled by the same string.
They moved toward me.
Not aggressive. Not threatening. But drawn, like I was a magnet and they were iron filings helpless against the pull.
Gray reached me first, pressing close to my side, his nose brushing against my arm.
Ben whined—that high, desperate sound I'd heard during the run—and dropped to his knees at my feet.
"Lumi."
Cal's voice. I turned.
He was standing in the doorway to his room, bare-chested, his body rigid with tension. His eyes were fixed on me, and there was something in them I'd never seen before. Not just recognition. Not just bond-awareness.
Hunger.
"Something's happening to you." His voice was rough. Strained. "We can all feel it."
"I know." My own voice came out strange. Thicker. "I woke up and everything was—"
"Different." He crossed the room in three strides. Stopped just short of touching me. His nostrils flared, and I watched his pupils dilate. "You smell different. You smell like—"
He didn't finish. Couldn't, maybe.
"Where's Stone?" I asked.
Cal's jaw tightened. "His room. He won't come out."
"Why?"
"Because he's barely holding human form." Cal's eyes met mine. "Not from rage this time. From something else."
Need. He didn't say it, but I heard it anyway.
I moved past him, past the ferals still clustering around me like moths to a flame, and walked to Stone's door. My hand trembled as I raised it to knock.
"Stone?"
A sound came through the wood. Low. Rough. Barely human.
"Stone, let me in."
"You shouldn't be here." His voice was wrecked. "Lumi, you need to go. Now. Before I—"
"I'm not leaving."
"I can't control it." The words were desperate. "Whatever's happening to you, it's making everything worse. My wolf is—he wants—"
"I know." I pressed my palm flat against the door. "Let me in anyway."
Silence.
Then the lock clicked.
I pushed the door open.
Stone was on the floor in the corner, his back against the wall, his body shaking with tremors. Sweat glistened on his skin. His eyes were pure gold—wolf completely at the surface—but there was no violence in them.
Just desperate, aching want.
"I can smell you," he said. The words came out guttural. Half-growl. "From the moment you entered the building. It's everywhere. In my lungs. In my blood." His hands clenched against the floor, claws extending and retracting. "What's happening to you?"
"I don't know." I moved closer, even though every instinct screamed that I was walking into the den of something dangerous. "My senses are—everything's heightened. And there's this heat building inside me—"
Before he could respond, the door to the east wing banged open.
"Lumi!"
Neal. He strode through the common area, ferals parting around him, his face tight with concern. He stopped in the doorway of Stone's room, took in the scene—and went pale.
"You shouldn't be in here."
"I needed to see them."
"That's exactly why you shouldn't be in here." He reached for me, then hesitated. "May I?"
I nodded.
His hand found my forehead. He hissed through his teeth.
"You're burning up." He pulled a small device from his pocket—a digital thermometer—and held it to my temple. Waited. "104.2. Lumi, you're running a serious fever."
"I don't feel sick."
"You're not sick." He stared at the reading. "This isn't infection. This is something else."
"The heat." Stone's voice came from the floor. "It's starting. Can't you smell it?"
Neal went very still.
"Smell what?"
"Her." Stone's golden eyes found mine. "She smells like heaven. Like home. Like everything I've been starving for." His body shuddered. "And it's getting stronger."
The warmth in my belly pulsed. Higher. Hotter.
"We need to get you out of here," Neal said. "Now. Before this escalates."
"Before what escalates?"
"Just trust me." He took my arm—the contact sent sparks racing across my skin—and guided me out of Stone's room. "Cal, keep him contained. Don't let him leave that room until I come back."
"And if he shifts?"
"Then pray."
We made it halfway across the common area before Cole appeared.
He came through the main doors like a man on a mission, his eyes scanning until they found me. The moment they did, he stopped. His face went white.
"Her temperature's 104," Neal reported. "The ferals are responding to her presence—strongly. Stone's barely holding form."
"Of course they are." Cole's voice was flat. Hard. "They can sense what's happening."
Cole looked at me. Really looked—past the fever-bright eyes, past the flushed skin, past all the external symptoms to something deeper.
"We need to get you somewhere safe." He moved toward me. "Somewhere private. This is going to intensify, and when it does, you'll need your mates close. All of them."
"That doesn't answer my question."
"I know." He stopped just short of touching me. I saw his hands shake with the effort of holding back. "But right now, time matters more than explanations. The heat builds fast once it starts. We have maybe a few hours before—"
"Before what?"
His eyes met mine. Dark. Anguished.
"Before it becomes unbearable."
Another pulse of warmth rolled through me. Stronger than before. I felt it in my bones, my blood, the deepest parts of me. It was like standing at the edge of a wave, watching it rise, knowing it was about to crash.
"My cabin," Cole said to Neal. "It’s private. And farther away from here."
"I'll get James." Neal was already moving. "And contact Rae. She needs to know what's happening."
"Quickly."
Cole's hand found the small of my back. The touch was light—barely there—but it sent lightning through my nervous system. I gasped.
"I know," he murmured. "Everything's more intense now. It'll keep building until the heat peaks."
"How long?"
"I don't know exactly. My mother never—" He shook his head. "It varies. A day. Maybe two. Depends on the Omega, the pack, the bonds."
We moved through the Healing Center, past staff who stared too long, past doorways that blurred together. The fluorescent lights were too bright, the antiseptic smell too sharp. Every step sent sensation rippling through me, as if my body couldn’t decide what to notice first.
He didn’t slow until we were outside. The air shifted, cooler, quieter, and he guided me down a long trail that opened into a clearing. An A-frame cabin stood there, two stories tall, its lines simple and solid. It looked… welcoming.
Which felt strange, considering how wrong everything else felt.
"The ferals," I managed. "They could feel it happening."
"They're sensitive to you. More than anyone." Cole guided me around a corner. "The heat amplifies everything—your presence, your scent, the pull you have on other wolves. For ferals who are already drawn to you, it's going to be overwhelming."
"Stone looked like he was in pain."
"He was. The need to be near you during the heat is biological. Instinctive. Fighting it hurts." Cole's jaw tightened. "I've been fighting it for weeks. I know how it feels."
He unlocked the front door.
Inside was larger than I'd expected, with a living room and kitchen visible through the open doorway. The space was sparse but comfortable. Private.
Safe.
"Stay here," Cole said. "I'll bring the others. James, Neal, Cal—whoever you need close when the heat peaks."
"What about Stone?"
Pain flickered across his face. "Stone's not stable enough. Not yet. Having him near you during the heat could push him over the edge."
"But he's my mate. He should be here."
"I know." Cole's voice was heavy. "We'll figure it out. But right now, we need to focus on getting you through this."
He guided me to the bedroom. I want you to start a bath, try to control your temperature.
The heat inside me was building regardless of external temperature, rising from some furnace buried deep in my core. I pressed my hand to my stomach and felt the warmth radiating outward.
"It's going to be okay," Cole said quietly. "Whatever happens, you won't face it alone."
"You keep saying that."
"Because it's true."
I looked up at him. This man who had kept secrets, made mistakes, tried to protect me in all the wrong ways. His face was open now—no walls, no guards. Just fear and hope and something deeper that he'd been fighting for weeks.
"Hurry," I said. "Get the others."
"I know." He didn't move. "Lumi—"
"Don't." I held up a hand. "Whatever you're about to say, save it. My skin feels like it's on fire and I'm pretty sure I can hear colors."
Despite everything, his mouth twitched. "Hear colors?"
"Something like that."
He nodded. Stepped back. "I'll be quick. Twenty minutes at most."
He left.
I stood alone in the quiet room, breathing slowly, trying to center myself against the sensations flooding my system. The heat pulsed through me—stronger with each wave, building toward something I couldn't name.
I pressed my hands to my face.
This was happening. Really happening. The thing Cole had warned about, the change he had described, the biological imperative that had been erased from every record.
The heat.
It was building like a wave about to crest. Rising from somewhere deep and primal, demanding acknowledgment, demanding completion.
My pack was coming. My mates would be here soon.