Chapter 7: Burn Skin

Chapter 7: Burn Skin

"What do you mean it won't work?" Jhonatan pushed himself up on the sofa, panic clear in his voice. "So what happens to me now?"

Glenmorrin set the box down on the table, his hands still not quite steady. "Your body will keep burning until it exhausts itself, or until it gets what it's asking for."

"How long does that take?" Jhonatan asked, his breathing growing shallow.

"Hours. Sometimes longer, for a first heat," Glenmorrin answered, his jaw tight. "It can be dangerous if your body pushes itself too far without relief."

"Dangerous how?" Jhonatan's voice cracked.

"Fever high enough to cause seizures. Dehydration. Your heart working harder than it should," Glenmorrin listed, each word clipped, controlled, like he was reciting a report rather than a warning about the person shaking in front of him.

Jhonatan curled tighter around the pillow in his arms. "So what do I do?"

Glenmorrin didn't answer right away. He stood, walked to the window, his back to Jhonatan, his shoulders rigid.

"There's a way to bring the fever down without an Alpha," Glenmorrin said finally. "Cold water. Ice, if I can find any. It won't stop the heat, but it can slow it enough to keep you safe until it passes on its own."

"Then do that," Jhonatan said quickly. "Please."

Glenmorrin turned, and for a moment his expression was unreadable. "It won't be comfortable."

"I don't care," Jhonatan answered. "I just don't want to lose control of my own body."

Something in that sentence made Glenmorrin's expression soften, just slightly.

"Alright," he said. "Bathroom's down the hall. I'll run the water."

He disappeared down the hallway, and a moment later Jhonatan heard the sound of a tap running. When Glenmorrin returned, he helped Jhonatan up, one arm firm around his waist, careful, deliberate distance kept everywhere else.

"I can walk," Jhonatan protested weakly, even as his legs buckled the moment he tried to prove it.

"Sure you can," Glenmorrin said, not letting go.

The bathroom was small, tiled in plain white, a stark contrast to the luxury of the apartment they'd fled. Glenmorrin lowered Jhonatan onto the edge of the tub, the cold water already filling it halfway.

"I'll be right outside the door," Glenmorrin said, straightening up.

"Wait." Jhonatan grabbed his sleeve before he could leave. "Stay. Just outside won't work—what if something happens and you can't hear me?"

Glenmorrin hesitated, his eyes flicking toward the door, then back to Jhonatan's flushed face.

"I'll leave the door open," Glenmorrin said finally. "I'll sit right outside it. You'll be able to call me the second you need to."

It wasn't exactly what Jhonatan asked for, but it was as far as Glenmorrin was willing to bend, and Jhonatan understood, somewhere beneath the haze of fever, exactly why.

"Okay," Jhonatan whispered.

Glenmorrin stepped out, leaving the door cracked open, and sat on the floor just beyond it, his back against the wall, close enough that Jhonatan could hear every shift of his weight.

The cold water helped, at first. Jhonatan sank into it slowly, gasping at the shock of the temperature against his overheated skin, and for a few minutes the fire under his skin seemed to ease into something bearable.

"Talk to me," Jhonatan called out, his voice shaky. "Please. I don't want to think about how much this hurts."

There was a pause before Glenmorrin's voice came, low, through the open door.

"What do you want to know?"

"Anything," Jhonatan answered. "Tell me why you have a warehouse full of illegal transactions. Tell me why you have an apartment no one knows about. Tell me something real."

Another pause, longer this time.

"My father built an empire out of fear," Glenmorrin said finally. "He taught me that loyalty only exists as long as it's useful. I spent most of my life proving him right, until I decided I didn't want to anymore."

"Is that why you left?" Jhonatan asked.

"I didn't leave," Glenmorrin answered. "I took what he built and made it mine. Different rules. Different reasons."

"What reasons?" Jhonatan pressed, his eyes closing against the ache spreading through his body again, the cold water no longer enough.

"I don't let people who work for me disappear without a reason," Glenmorrin said. "I don't sell people. I don't make deals with men who hurt children. There are lines even in my world, Jhonatan. My father never understood that."

Jhonatan let out a shaky breath, half pain, half something that felt strangely like comfort. "You keep saying you're dangerous. But everything you just described sounds like—"

"Like what?" Glenmorrin's voice was quieter now.

"Like someone who still has a conscience," Jhonatan whispered.

Silence stretched between them, broken only by the sound of water shifting as Jhonatan's body trembled.

"Glenmorrin," Jhonatan said suddenly, his voice tightening. "It's getting worse again."

The sound of Glenmorrin standing was immediate. "How much worse?"

"I can't—" Jhonatan's breath hitched, his hands gripping the edge of the tub. "I can't think straight. It hurts."

"Jhonatan, listen to my voice," Glenmorrin said, his tone shifting into something firmer, an anchor. "Focus on breathing. In through your nose, slow."

"I'm trying," Jhonatan gasped, tears mixing with the water on his face.

"You're doing fine," Glenmorrin said. "You're stronger than you think. You survived tonight already. You can survive this too."

Jhonatan clung to those words, repeating them silently in his head as another wave of heat crashed through him, his vision blurring at the edges.

"Glenmorrin," he whispered, his voice barely audible now. "Don't go anywhere."

There was a pause, and then, quieter than before—

"I'm not going anywhere," Glenmorrin said. "I told you that already."

Jhonatan's eyes fluttered shut, exhaustion finally starting to pull him under despite the fire still burning beneath his skin, the last thing he registered being the steady sound of Glenmorrin's breathing just beyond the door, a presence he hadn't realized, until this exact moment, he trusted completely.