Resisting the Rival Alpha

Chapter One: Unbearable Heat

KAELYN

I haven't slept in two days. I haven't told Aunt Cinda, of course.

Not making that mistake again.

Last time, she pulled out her essential oils, dabbed lavender and ylang ylang on my temples while I tried not to choke on the scent, and dug her thumbs into me, massaging the insides of my wrist. Then, worst of all, she sat on my bed and insisted I talk to her and tell her why I was having trouble sleeping.

How could I tactfully explain to my sweet, fragile aunt that I couldn't sleep because my heat was so bad I wanted to hump everything (and everyone) in sight?

I ended up mumbling something about how I was just stressed about how I don't think I'm good enough to be Alpha one day and how I miss Dad so much and all I want is for him to be proud of me, blah, blah, blah. I chose topics I knew would keep her talking all night, so all I'd have to do is lie there and suffer.

Saying all of that makes me feel like a week-old elk carcass in the peak of July: absolute, festering garbage. I hate lying to my Aunt Cinda, but, what's worse is, in a way...I'm not.

That's kind of the super messed up part. All those things I told her are true. And to manipulate her like that using my actual feelings, especially about Dad...ugh.

As if I didn't hate myself enough already.

I can't go through that again. So I've been hiding out in my chambers, feigning a bad cold in order to, ironically, get through a far worse heat.

You know we could fix this, right, Kaelyn? my wolf says slyly.

Shut up, I plead with her once more.

I'm lying face-up on my bed. I stopped bothering to wipe the sweat dripping from my face, even as it trailed down my neck, pooling in my navel. I can't bear to wear anything more than my white cotton bra and panties.

Crook a finger, Kaelyn, she ignores me, swing your tail. They'll come running. They all will.

"That's it, I'm taking a shower," I say, throwing the pillow across the room and marching to my en suite bathroom. I peel the sweat-damp bra and panties from my body. I don't even bother to look in the mirror, I know what I'll see:

Long, auburn curls, tangled down my back. A hot flush spread all over my entire body, even down my long, pale limbs. Wide eyes, usually a light brown, blown a hungry, desperate black.

I'm an absolute mess.

I turn the cold tap on and step immediately under the rainfall shower. The water is ice, and when it hits me, my whole body seizes, frigid. Bliss.

Four seconds of absolute bliss.

No thoughts. No feeling.

Just freezing, terrible, perfect cold.

If it didn't work the first ten times today, why would it work now? Jump in the Arctic, babe. You'll still be on fire. There's only one way to fix this.

"I can't do that," I whisper into the water. The feverish feeling is back, and I might as well be in a sauna for how hot I'm feeling again. The ache in my womb flares, and my core is throbbing.

I lean my forehead against the cool shower wall, closing my eyes. I press a hand to my smooth stomach and slide it down. Down, past my navel, down, down to the apex of my thighs, to where every alight nerve in my body is guiding me.

No.

I can't.

If I do, if I touch myself, make myself come, it'll be like drinking seawater to quench my thirst. It'll only leave me thirstier, sicker, needier. It'll make something already difficult impossible.