Page 117 of Played By Design

Predicted onset: 24-48 hours.

Shit.

The tightness in my skin makes sense now. The low-grade warmth at my nape. The way Kain’s pheromones have been overpowering.

My body has been preparing, but Kain’s care schedule consumed my attention.

I open the medicine cabinet. The orange prescription bottle sits on the top shelf, behind the toothpaste. I shake out two long-acting suppressants onto my palm and dry swallow them.

They catch in my throat, and I lean over the sink to gulp water from the tap until they go down.

I don’t take the blue and red capsules often.

It’s a problem when my Heat overlaps the week before a competition, when the sensory overload wrecks my reaction time or puts me out of commission during the event.

Otherwise, Kain helps me with my Heats.

Heats are part of sex, and Kain fills the sex slot. Always has. Always will.

But Ash’s words ring in my head. Sex isn’t part of being roommates. That’s a separate category that I’ve been mishandling for years.

Except…

After Dark is in the workbook for physical attention. I scrub my hands over my face. If the manual is for a pet, then why is After Dark a five-star song instead of in the Never Play list?

Why did Kain play it now, when he’s injured? Did I misunderstand the category?

I cap the bottle of suppressants, put it back, and close the cabinet.

My reflection stares back at me from the mirror. Blond hair falling into my eyes, glasses askew, a flush high on my cheeks that has nothing to do with embarrassment and everything to do with Kain.

I adjust my glasses and leave the bathroom, striding to my office.

I flip through the manual on my desk until I find the correct page.

After Dark⁠—

Associates with being relaxed and close. Increased affection and physical contact. Usually climbs into lap within ten minutes. Very responsive to touch.

It doesn’t actually say sex. My body simply translates closeness to Kain as an invitation. Was he just seeking snuggles because I rejected him?

But snuggles cause pain.

Pain is bad.

Therefore, no snuggles.

Displeased with this new revelation, I turn back to Kain’s care manual as the ice pack timer goes off.

I return to the bedroom, where Save Point still plays on loop. For all his talk about being better, his breathing has deepened into sleep. I remove the ice pack without disturbing him and ease the bedroom door shut.

Once I return the ice pack to the freezer, I head downstairs, where my laptop sits open on the desk where I left it yesterday. I press the space bar, and it lights up. I type in the password.

The screen glows with two open tabs.

The first one shows Kain’s forum moderation queue, half-processed. I’ve been running cleanup batches every time Kain sleeps, submitting them under his credentials so nothing flags as overdue at work.

The backlog is down to thirty-seven posts. Manageable.