The Fever

The "arrangement" was simple.

During the day, I was Maya the Auditor. I wore crisp business suits that Dante’s stylist bought for me. I sat in my glass-walled office, digging through the massive financial records of the Black Summit Pack. I found leaks, I stopped thieves, and I saved the King millions of dollars.

The nights saw me become Maya the... well, we never gave a name to it.

I slept in the Penthouse. Not in the guest room, but in the master bedroom. In that enormous bed that smelled of sandalwood and rain.

Dante called it "stress relief." He said it was simply a biological need, a way to burn off some excess energy from running an empire. He laid down rules, of course.

Rule 1: No sleeping over. (He broke that on the third night, falling asleep with an arm around me, waking up only at dawn). Rule 2: No public displays of affection. (He constantly broke this, whenever we would walk into a meeting, he would place his hand on the small of my back). Rule 3: No feelings.

That was one rule we had never broken out loud. But with every passing day, the silence was harrowing.

Two weeks into our new arrangement, I found myself seated on the velvet sofa in Dante's study. Very late, past midnight. The castle was sleeping; the King never did.

"Weren't you squinting?" Dante said from his desk.

I looked up. He was watching me over the top of his laptop. He looked too debonair: the suit jacket long thrown away, the white shirt with a casual unbuttoned collar showing off a strong column of his neck.

"The numbers are blurring," I admitted, rubbing my temples. "I think I've looked at shipping manifests for too long."

"Then stop," he ordered. He got up and walked to the small bar cart. "Come here."

I set the tablet down and walked toward him, the sense of awareness thrumming in my body. Even after two weeks, the proximity of him tingled on my skin.

He handed me a glass of water. "Hydrate. You are still recovering."

"I feel fine," I said and accepted the glass. "Dr. Evans said my weight is back to normal. The poison is completely cleared from me."

"Maybe physically," Dante murmured, sliding out his knuckles against my cheek. "But you really ought to rest. You do not need to prove your worth to me every single day, Maya."

"Yes, I do," I whispered. "Because if I stop being useful, I'm just a liability."

Dante's eyes darkened. He stepped closer, trapping me against the bar cart.

"You are not a liability," he growled softly. "You are..."

He trailed off. Then he dipped down, brushing his lips against mine. A soft and slow kiss, one that wasn't the hungry kind of desperation for which he'd dived into me in bed. It was worse. It was soft.

Suddenly, a sharp pain stabbed through my chest.

It was a different sort of pain. More like the stabbing with a hot iron in the ribs.

I gasped, letting the glass slide from my hand. It shattered on the floor, and the water splashed over Dante's expensive shoes.

"Maya?" Dante jolted backward, gripping both my shoulders.

"Hot," I forced out. "It's... hot."

The heat was not from the room. It was coming from somewhere inside me. It had begun in my chest and exploded outward, running through my veins like firewater. I could feel myself swimming in and out of view. The room tilted sideways.

"Maya!" Dante's voice appeared distant now.

My knees gave way.

Dante caught me before I hit the broken glass. He scooped me up into his arms, his face as pale as a ghost from panic.

"Evans!" Dante bellowed, shaking the walls with his voice. "Get Evans in here NOW!"

He had no time to wait for an answer. Kicking open the door to the study, he dashed on the path to the bedroom.

I was burning. I felt like I was being slow-cooked from inside out. My skin felt too tight for my body.

"It hurts," I sobbed, clutching Dante's shirt. "Dante, it hurts."

"I've got you," he rasped. "Stay with me, Maya. Do not close your eyes."

He laid me down on the bed. The coolness of the sheets felt like ice against my burning skin. I writhed, arching my back as another wave of fire crashed through me. It felt like my bones were trying to rearrange themselves.

The door burst open and in came Dr. Evans, already dressed in pajamas and carrying a medical bag.

"What happened?" Evans demanded, rushing to the bed.

"She collapsed," Dante said, on hover over me, "She's burning up. Is it the poison? Is it a relapse?"

Doctor Evans placed a thermometer against my forehead. He pulled it back instantly, his eyes widening.

"One hundred and six degrees," Evans whispered. "This isn't a relapse; this is impossible."

"Fix her!" Dante yelled, grabbing the doctor by the collar. "Stop staring and fix her!"

"I can't just 'fix' this, Alpha!" Evans retorted, shoving Dante's hand back. "Look at her eyes!"

Dante stared down at me.

I tried to focus on him, but everything was red.

I whispered, "Dante."

"Look," Evans said. "Her irises are glowing."

Dante leaned a little closer.

My violet eyes were glowing. They weren't merely reflecting light; they were making light. There was a soft pulsating glow of lavender coming from the depths of my pupils.

"What's that?" Dante said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"It's a shift fever," Evans said, checking my pulse. "Her heart rate is three hundred. She is trying to shift."

"She can't shift," Dante countered. "She is twenty-two. Wolves shift at sixteen. If she missed this window, the wolf dies."

"That's what the textbooks say," Evans muttered, administering a new dose of something clear into my vein. "But clearly, the textbooks don't take into account a wolf that underwent poisoning for the past ten years."

The antidote kicked in. It took the edge off the pain but gave some control back to the fires blistering in my body. From the heat, I could draw a little breath.

"The poison suppressed everything," Evans said, working quickly to set an IV. "She went into a coma. But now, with the poison gone, and now that she is... healthy..."

Evans glanced at Dante, then at the bed. He cleared his throat.

"Also, it is possible that increased pheromone exposure from the Alpha may have contributed..."

Dante became motionless. "What are you insinuating?"

"I'm saying her wolf isn't dead, Your Majesty," Evans said. "It was sleeping. And now it is waking up. But because she is an adult, her human body isn't ready for the transformation. The energy is too strong. It's cooking her internal organs."

"Will she die?" The way he said it, the fear was raw. I had never before heard the King sound this terrified.

"If she doesn't release the energy? Yes," Evans said gravely. "Her body will burn out."

"And how does she release it?"

"She needs to shift," Evans said. "But she can't. Not yet. Her bones are too brittle."

I reached out, hand trembling, and grasped Dante's cool hand.

"Dante,," I whined. "Please."

Dante gripped my hand so tightly, I thought he just might crush it.

"Is there any other way?" Dante asked the doctor. "To stabilize her?"

Evans considered. "We could use cryotherapy to bring down her temperature. And administer high-calorie supplements to feed her wolf energy so it doesn't eat her reserves. But mostly... she needs an anchor."

"An anchor?"

"A high-ranking Alpha," Evans said. "Someone strong enough to absorb the excess energy through a bond. If you hold her, if you share your aura with her... your wolf can calm hers down. It can teach her wolf to wait."

Dante didn't have to think about it.

He kicked off his shoes. He climbed onto the bed, ignoring the doctor’s jaw-drop. He pulled me against his chest, wrapping his large arms around me.

"Leave us," Dante commanded.

"But Alpha, I need to monitor—"

"I said get out," Dante growled, his eyes flaring gold. "I will take care of this."

Evans practically bowed himself out the door.

Left in the dark.

Dante tucked the duvet around us, lying along the full length of me. I could feel his power pallid, heavy, and grounding. It felt like a wall standing against a forest fire.

"Breathe, Maya," he whispered onto my hair. "I'm here. I've got you."

He opened the connection. I could feel it—some mental bridge slamming into place. His Alpha aura poured into me, cool and authoritative.

Calm down, commanded his wolf to mine. Wait.

The pain in my chest dulled. The fire became a mere simmer. My wolf, whoever she was, recognized him. She recognized the King. And she obeyed.

I sank against him, breathing slowing further.

"You're not dying," he articulated vehemently, his lips brushing my temple. "I forbid it. You haven't paid off your debt yet.''

I released a weak, shaky laugh. Even now he was talking about the contract.

"Is that all... I am?" I whispered, eyes closing. "A debt?"

For a long time, there was dead silence. He held me tightly, heart drumming steadily against my back.

''No,'' he whispered at long last into the darkness. ''You are the only thing real in this castle.''

I drifted to sleep engulfed in the monster's arms. But the fire in me wasn't quenched. It had merely gone dormant, and I knew that when it burst into flame, it was going to change everything.