POV: Rian (Inside)
Time didn't exist in the Guest Suite.
There was only the heat. It rolled over me in waves, a physical weight that pressed me into the mattress.
I had stripped off the clothes Varrick gave me hours ago—or maybe days ago? I didn't know. They felt like sandpaper against my skin. Now, I was wrapped in the duvet, shivering and sweating at the same time.
"Varrick," I whimpered into the pillow.
The pillow smelled like detergent. It was wrong. It didn't smell like him.
I needed him. The biological imperative was a drumbeat in my skull. Find the Alpha. Submit. Knot.
I rolled off the bed, my legs tangling in the sheets. I hit the floor with a soft thud. I crawled toward the closet. I needed something. Anything.
I found a dress shirt hanging in the back—one Varrick must have left here weeks ago. I ripped it off the hanger. I buried my face in the fabric.
Burnt cedar. Faint, stale, but there.
A sob tore from my throat. I dragged the shirt back to the bed. I didn't get under the covers. Instead, I started to build.
My hands moved without my permission. I pulled pillows from the chairs. I dragged the duvet into a pile. I twisted the sheets into a circle.
I was nesting.
I knew, logically, that this was humiliating. I was a thief from the sectors, not a pampered house pet. But the fever burned the logic away. I curled up in the center of the nest, clutching Varrick's shirt to my chest, and squeezed my eyes shut.
"Please," I whispered to the empty room. "Come in."
"I'm here," a low voice rumbled.
It didn't come from the bed. It came from the door.
I froze. I crawled out of the nest, dragging the shirt with me, and pressed my ear against the wood of the door.
"Varrick?"
"I'm here, Rian," he said. His voice was rough, strained. "Drink some water. There are bottles on the nightstand."
"Open the door," I begged, scratching faintly at the panel. "It hurts."
"I know," he rasped. I heard a heavy thud, like he had rested his head back against the doorframe. "It hurts out here, too."
He wasn't coming in.
The realization broke me. I slid down the door, curling into a ball on the floor, pressing my nose to the crack at the bottom where the scent of him was strongest.
I closed my eyes and let the fever dream take me. In the dark, I pretended he was holding me.
POV: Varrick (Outside)
"Sir, you have a meeting with the City Council in twenty minutes."
I didn't open my eyes. I sat on the floor of the hallway, my back pressed against the door of the Guest Suite, my legs stretched out in front of me.
"Cancel it," I said.
Kael stood over me. He held a tray of food and a fresh Starklink tablet. He looked down at me with a mixture of confusion and concern.
"Sir," Kael said slowly. "You haven't left this hallway in thirty-six hours. You haven't eaten. You haven't showered."
"I'm not hungry," I grunted.
"The scent in this hall is..." Kael wrinkled his nose. "It's strong, sir. Even for a Beta. For you, it must be torture."
It was.
The pheromones leaking from the room behind me were thick enough to taste. Honey. Rain. Distress. It clawed at my throat. Every instinct I had as an Alpha was screaming at me to turn around, kick the door down, and claim the Omega inside. My blood felt like it was boiling. My fangs ached.
But I wouldn't do it.
I remembered the look in Rian's eyes before the heat took him. The terror. The desperation.
If I went in there now, I wouldn't be making love to him. I would be using him. And when the fever broke, he would look at me with that same terror again.
I didn't want his fear. I wanted him. All of him.
"Leave the tablet," I commanded. "Take the food away. The smell of roast beef is making me sick."
Kael hesitated. "Boss. Nikolai has moved on the western docks. We need a strategy."
"I can command an army from the floor, Kael," I snapped, looking up at him. "Give me the damn tablet."
Kael sighed. He set the device down on my lap.
"If I may speak freely?"
"No."
"You're obsessed," Kael said anyway. "It's just an Omega, Varrick. We can get you another one. A clean one. One that doesn't smell like the slums."
I stood up.
The movement was so sudden Kael stumbled back, his hand twitching toward his gun.
I grabbed Kael by the collar of his uniform and slammed him into the opposite wall. The tray of food crashed to the floor.
"Be very careful," I snarled, my face inches from his. "He is not 'just an Omega.' He is the only thing in this godforsaken city that is real."
I tightened my grip, my voice dropping to a lethal whisper.
"If you ever speak of him with disrespect again, Kael, I will strip the rank off your uniform. And then I will strip the skin off your back. Do we understand each other?"
Kael paled. He swallowed hard, nodding. "Yes, sir. Understood."
I shoved him away. I adjusted my rumpled shirt, breathing hard.
"Clean this up," I pointed at the spilled food. "And bring me a coffee. Black."
I sat back down against the door.
From inside the room, I heard a soft whimper. Then, the sound of shuffling fabric. And then, a small, broken whisper.
"Varrick..."
I closed my eyes, tilting my head back against the wood.
"I'm here," I said softly, my anger evaporating instantly. "Sleep, Rian. I'm not going anywhere."
POV: Rian (Inside - Day 3)
The fever broke like a storm passing.
One minute I was burning; the next, I was just... cold.
I opened my eyes. The room was dark. The air was stale. I was lying on the floor by the door, tangled in a white dress shirt that was ruined with sweat.
I blinked, my brain slowly coming back online. The hunger was gone. The ache was gone. I felt weak, hollowed out, and incredibly thirsty.
I sat up, groaning. My muscles were stiff.
I looked at the door.
I remembered. The heat. The locking mechanism. The voice on the other side.
He stayed.
I reached up, turning the lock. It clicked loudly.
I hesitated, hand on the knob. What if he was gone? What if he had left me here to rot?
I opened the door.
The hallway was bright. I squinted against the light.
Sitting on the floor, directly across from the door frame, was Varrick.
He looked terrible. His stubble had grown into a beard. His shirt was wrinkled. There were empty coffee cups stacked like a tower beside him, and a tablet resting on his knee. He was asleep, his head lolling forward onto his chest.
The noise of the door opening woke him.
He jerked upright, his hand instinctively going for a gun that wasn't there. His eyes wild, he scanned the space until they landed on me.
He froze.
He looked at my disheveled hair, the ruined shirt I was clutching, and my bare feet. He took a deep breath, testing the air.
"It's gone," he rasped. His voice was wrecked.
"Yeah," I whispered, leaning against the doorframe for support. "It's gone."
Varrick stood up slowly, groaning as his stiff joints protested. He towered over me, smelling of stale coffee and exhaustion.
He didn't try to touch me. He just looked at me, searching my face for fear.
"Did you..." I cleared my throat. "Did you stay there the whole time?"
Varrick looked at the pile of coffee cups. He looked back at me.
"I said I would."
A lump formed in my throat. I looked at this dangerous, powerful man who had reduced himself to a hallway guard dog just to keep me safe from himself.
"You look like hell, Varrick," I said, a small, weak smile touching my lips.
Varrick huffed a laugh. "You're no prize yourself, little thief."
He stepped closer. He reached out, his hand hovering near my face. When I didn't flinch, he brushed a stray hair from my forehead.
"Go shower," he murmured gently. "I'll have the staff change the sheets. And Rian?"
"Yeah?"
"Burn that shirt," he nodded at the ruined fabric in my hand. "It smells like desperation."
He turned and walked toward his own room, his gait slow and heavy.
I watched him go, clutching the shirt tighter to my chest. I wasn't going to burn it.
I was going to keep it.