Page 49 of Heat Unwritten
"Tessa," Anders started, his voice pitching into that professional, de-escalating tone used for hostile negotiations. "You need to be horizontal. Your system is in a reload cycle. You are flushing cortisol and adrenaline at dangerous levels."
"Stop talking about me like I’m a server that crashed," I said. My voice was raspy, worn down by the screaming and the moaning of the last twenty-four hours, but it held a steel that surprised even me. "I am not a glitch. And I am not delirious."
"You're in heat," Anders stated bluntly, though he couldn't stop his eyes from tracking the rise and fall of my chest. "You aren't thinking clearly."
"I am thinking more clearly than I have in a decade," I countered.
I took another step toward him. He flinched, his body locking up, holding his ground through sheer force of will.
"You said you wanted to rewrite the ending," I said, looking from one to the next, pinning them with the grey eyes they usually only saw behind tortoise-shell frames. "At dinner. You said you wanted to be useful. You said you wanted to fix the mistake you made on that stage."
"We do," Simon whispered from the hearth, his voice laced with the grit of his scent. "We will. We'll protect you."
"Protecting me isn't locking me in a room," I said, my voice rising. "Protecting me isn't treating me like a glass doll that’s already shattered."
I turned my gaze to Daniel.
"You read to me," I told him. "You read the scene where Lady Charlotte burns the council down. You know what she says?"
Daniel nodded slowly, his eyes darkening as the memory of the text,mytext, surfaced. "'Iron doesn't break; it hardens.'"
"Exactly."
I reached for the clasp of my bra.
The air in the room vanished. The sound of the storm outside faded to a dull, insignificant drone. The only sound left in the universe was the crackle of the fire and the ragged breathing of three Alphas who were realizing, slowly, that the prey had turned around.
"I am empty," I said, the confession falling from my lips without shame, raw and honest. "The industry hollowed me out. The suppressants numbed me. The past froze me. But you..."
I looked at Simon, whose hands were twitching with the urge to reach out.
"You touched me, and I felt real."
I looked at Daniel, whose massive frame seemed to vibrate with restrained power.
"You anchored me, and I felt safe."
I looked at Anders, the man who had terrified me and protected me in equal measure.
"You cleaned me, and I felt worthy."
I pulled the bra away. The fabric hit the floor with a soft thump that sounded like a thunderclap in the quiet room.
"Don't," Anders choked out, turning his head away sharply, his jaw clenching so hard a muscle jumped in his cheek. He squeezed his eyes shut. "Tessa, please. We promised only to help. Unless you beg."
"I'm not begging," I said.
I hooked my fingers into the edge of my panties and slid them down, stepping out of them and toeing them next to my bra on the floor.
I stood before them naked. Not like the girl on the stage, trying to cover herself with a cheap graduation gown while the school laughed. Not like the woman on the kitchen floor, thrashing in a delirious fever.
I stood tall. My skin was flushed with the rose-gold hue of the heat, my nipples hard peaks in the cool air, my thighs slick with the undeniable evidence of my need. I let them see me. I let them see the scars, the curves, the messy, human reality of the Ghost Queen.
"I'm commanding," I whispered.
The scent in the room spiked violently. Bourbon turned sharp and spicy. Chai turned heavy and possessive. Chocolate melted into pure, unadulterated need.
Anders forced his head back around. His eyes locked onto mine, then tracked down my body, his pupils blowing wide until the icy blue was swallowed by pitch black. He made a sound in his throat, half growl, half prayer.
