Heat.
That was the first thing that hit Kaya's mind.
Not normal warmth, not a simple fever. The same wrong kind of heat she'd seen once before—on Veer's face, that night when everything went sideways and she lost her waist for two days straight and couldn't feel real strength in her legs for almost a full day. She still remembered the way his eyes had gone hazy, the way his breath had turned rough, the way her own body had betrayed her. That whole scene was carved into her nerves.
Now Cutie was standing in front of her with the same look.
His cheeks were flushed deep red, eyes unfocused, chest rising like every inhale was too heavy. Sweat clung to his skin, making his hair stick and his shirt darken. Kaya didn't have to guess—her instincts were already screaming this was the same state, the same kind of forced heat, the same dirty trick.
And then, like the world wanted to prove it, Cutie leaned forward and pressed his head into her palm.
