Dax didn't answer. His mouth opened, then closed again, words dying in the space between them. The air had turned sharp enough to hurt.
Chris's pheromones flared again, ice spreading in fine fractals across the terrace floor, the scent of ozone cutting through Dax's lungs like cold smoke. The wind picked up, carrying a hiss that wasn't quite natural.
His body reacted before his mind did.
"Chris." The name came out rough, his voice barely steady.
Chris's shoulders rose, breath shallow, every exhale leaving a cloud of vapor in the air. His hands were shaking, fingers flexing as though trying to contain the cold bleeding from his own skin.
"Stop," he whispered, though it wasn't clear if it was meant for Dax or himself. "I can't…"
Dax didn't wait for the rest. He moved.
In two strides he crossed the distance, his pheromones flooding the air. The heat of him hit first, rich and heavy, cutting through the frost like a slow-burning fire.
