Evenings at the pack house were usually airy, and busy. Members of neighboring packs came out to relax; families just chilling, enjoying the evening air, lovers loving up. But that very evening, it rained heavily, so everywhere was quiet. And I loved it.
Marcus wanted my homemade protein shakes again.
I stood in the kitchen, my hands trembling as I gripped the edge of the counter.
"Miya? Is it ready?"
Marcus’s voice carried from the living room, a low, impatient rumble that made the milk- ache in my chest flare.
"Almost," I called back, my voice sounding thin to my own ears.
I looked down at the glass. It was filled with the same "special blend" but then how was I going to give it to him.
The Luna’s Fever had become constant. It was getting out of control and I do not know how long I was going to keep it a secret. I had swapped my hoodie for a lilac blouse—a reckless choice, but I needed to feel like myself again, hoodies were not my thing.
I hated how this condition made me wear them more often.
I carried the glass into the living room. Marcus was sprawled on the sofa, the blue light of the television illuminating the angles of his face. He was watching game footage of the last scrimmage, but his eyes tracked me the moment I crossed the threshold.
"Sit," he commanded, gesturing to the armchair opposite him.
"I have studying to do, Daddy. The thesis…" I lied.
I wanted to be near him so badly, but in this sheer blouse, I couldn't risk him seeing that just being around him could make me leak milk.
"The thesis can wait. Sit. Tell me about this new recipe you found."
I obeyed without a second thought, perched on the very edge of the cushion. I set the glass on the coffee table between us. He didn't reach for it immediately. He just stared at me, his golden-brown eyes sweeping all over me.
"You look different tonight," he said, his gaze dropping to my blouse. "Clean. But why are you fidgeting?"
"It’s just coffee wearing me off. Too much caffeine."
"Liar," he whispered. He finally reached for the glass, his large hand swallowing the glass. He took a slow, deliberate sip. His eyes stayed locked on mine over the rim. "Tell me, Miya. Does this rare goat breed undergo some sort of fermentation? Because it has an unusual sweetness tonight. Almost... intoxicating."
I swallowed hard, the sound loud in the quiet room. "I wouldn't know."
"You didn't buy this, did you?" Marcus said, setting the glass down with a sharp clack. "I checked the bins. No cartons. No receipts. So, where is it coming from, little bird? Are you keeping a secret herd in the backyard?"
"Why does it matter?" I playfully snapped, laughing sheepishly as my defensive walls crumbled. "You said it was perfect. You said you needed it more often. Why the interrogation?"
Marcus leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. The space between us felt electric, charged with a tension that made the hair on my arms stand up. "Because I like to know exactly who is providing for me. I like to know whose mark is on my food."
"It’s just milk, Dad."
"Is it?" He stood up, his massive frame blotting out the light from the TV. He walked around the table until he was standing directly over me. The scent of pine and raw Alpha power was overwhelming. "Then why is your heart trying to beat its way out of your chest? Why is your scent changing right now? It’s getting thicker. Sweeter."
I tried to stand, but he placed a hand on the arm of my chair, pinning me in place. "I... I have to go."
"Look down, Miya."
"What?"
"Look. Down."
I followed his gaze. My breath hitched. My blouse was failing me. Two small, pale spots were blooming over my breasts, the fabric turning translucent as the moisture began to spread. The "condition" was reacting to his proximity, to the low vibration of his voice.
"Oh, Moon Goddess," I whispered, covering my chest with my hands.
"She won't help you here," Marcus rasped. He reached out, his thumb catching a stray tear I hadn't realized had escaped. "You’re leaking milk, aren't you? In the kitchen, in the pantry... and now, right here in front of me."
"It's a medical issue," I choked out, the quiet intensity of the moment hitting me with an overwhelming force. "A human doctor said—"
"That isn't a sickness, Miya," Marcus interrupted, his voice dropping to a predatory growl sending shivers down my spine. "That’s an invitation. You’re providing for your Alpha. You’re just too cowardly to admit it."
He didn't move away. Instead, he stepped closer, his heat radiating off him in waves that made my knees buckle.
I didn't just want to escape; I wanted to sink into him, to let him take undue advantage of the secret I was so poorly hiding.
The way his eyes darkened as they fixed on the damp part of my blouse made my heart thrall with a forbidden thrill. He was going to punish me for lying—I could see it in the set of his jaw—and a dark, traitorous part of me craved whatever that punishment might be.
"I... I didn't mean to lie," I choked out, my voice hitching.
"But you did," he whispered, his face inches from mine. "Do you have any idea how much that scent drives a wolf crazy?"
Terrified that I would break right then and there and throw myself at him, I pushed past him.
My face was burning with a shame so hot it felt like a fever, fueled by the agonizing realization that he knew exactly what I was.
I didn't look back, convinced that if I stayed one second longer, he’d see the sheer, desperate attraction in my eyes.
I bolted for the stairs, the sound of my own frantic pulse drowning out the noise of the television, certain his golden eyes were tracking every desperate movement of my hips until I disappeared.
I slammed my bedroom door and locked it, leaning my back against the wood before sliding to the floor. I was hyperventilating, my chest heaving heavily.
I knelt, arching forward to catch a glimpse of myself in the full-length mirror on my vanity—the translucent stains, the glassy, haunted look. I had finally been caught by the only man I want to belong to and I couldn’t bring myself to face him.
"Please," I whispered to the empty room, clutching my breasts to try and soothe the ache. "Please, don't let him come up here."
My phone buzzed on the nightstand, the vibration distracting my panic.
King_M has tipped $500.
King_M: Hey baby, you have been quiet. I can smell the distress on you from here, Little Milkmaid. Is everything okay with you? Write me back.
It was something about King_M that I loved. It was how he didn't need to see me to know my state of mind.
Miya_Maid: Why do you do that? How do you do it?Know when I am in a bit of a mood and stuff. You talk like you’re standing right behind me.
The reply was instantaneous, the typing bubble appearing before I could even blink.
"Who says I'm not?"