Page 122 of Played By Design

I need another dose and time to calm down before I call Rowan. Otherwise, Rowan will hear something off and want to speak to Kain, and Kain is supposed to be resting.

Decision made. Suppressants first. Then Rowan. I set a new alarm to remind myself, just to be safe.

I push away from the desk and head upstairs.

The air in the house is thicker. Warmer. Or maybe the heat is coming from inside me. An enticing Alpha musk curls through every room, bringing a cramp to my stomach and an aching emptiness demanding to be filled.

I sway in the hallway, my hand on the wall for support, fingers trailing the textured paint as I walk. One step. Another. The floorboard by the bathroom door creaks beneath my foot, louder than it should be.

The door stands ajar. I push it wider and flip the light switch.

The medicine cabinet mirror throws my reflection back at me, all glassy eyed and flushed cheeks. I look like I just ran a marathon instead of sitting in that chair for hours.

I open the cabinet. The orange prescription bottle sits on the top shelf, behind the toothpaste, where I left it.

A tremor runs through me, and I struggle to twist off the child-safe cap. The bottle pops out of my hands and clatters into the sink. I wipe the sweat from my forehead and bend to pick it up.

When I straighten, a full-body flinch sends the bottle flying from my hand again.

Kain stands in the doorway, one shoulder braced against the jamb. His dark hair is mussed, and he wears only sweatpants, the band of bruising across his ribs visible.

He lowers himself to pick up the pill bottle from the floor, and the plastic creaks as his hand tightens around it, his knuckles turning white.

His brown eyes burn into mine. “Is this part of your Nursing Sim, too, Bunny?”

I stare at the bottle in his hand. “No.”

“No?”

He sounds strange.

Flat.

I hold out my hand. “I need those.”

Kain turns the bottle between his fingers. “Why?”

My brow furrows. “Because I’m going into Heat.”

His nostrils flare. “I know.”

Of course. He can scent it.

I wiggle my fingers. “Kain.”

He doesn’t give me the bottle. “Why are you taking suppressants?”

“Because I’m going into Heat.”

A muscle in his cheek twitches. “Yes, you said that.”

“Then why did you ask again?”

He closes his eyes, draws a breath through his nose, holds it, and releases it. “Why are you suppressing your Heat?”

Oh. That’s a different question. “Because we can’t have sex.”

His entire body goes still. “We can’t?”