Helena had always been meticulous. Just as she had engineered her own heat to peak at the exact moment she desired, she had also packed immediate heat suppressants—a contingency plan for later. She never anticipated needing them so soon, left entirely alone in the vacant room, her sanity slowly fracturing.
As the suppressants began to dull her fever, a wave of reality hit her. Floating through the air were two distinct scents, seamlessly intertwining—a heavy, triumphant display of the bond that had just been forged. The thick pheromones drove her mad. She couldn't wrap her head around it: Viona had chosen Ethan over her.
Why the hell did he have to go into heat at that exact moment?
