LYSANDER
The heat started at the back of my neck.
I had been warned. The Healer who attended to me, Cress, was at the foot of my bed just yesterday with her arms crossed and that look on her face because she partly knew I was going to ignore everything that she said. "Please skip the ball, Alpha Lysander. Let the rut run its course, and stop pretending you are made of something harder than bone and blood."
I had nodded. I had even said, "Of course." Then I had come here anyway, after getting the prescription I needed from her, because my uncle had asked me to, and I had never been particularly good at telling him no.
It felt subtle at first. The sort of thing you could blame on a crowded room or too many bodies pressed inside a space that was never meant to hold this many wolves.
But I knew what it was.
