North POV

Curiosity gnawed at me, sharper than any hunger or thirst.

I couldn’t ignore it. My feet moved before my mind could catch up, carrying me toward the hall, each step measured but urgent.

The air felt thick, heavy with something unspoken. Every breath I took seemed to carry a weight, a static tension that pressed down on my chest.

As I walked, the faint clatter of distant footsteps and muted voices felt wrong—too careful, too tense.

The maids and guards along the corridors were frozen mid-motion, their faces pale, eyes darting nervously, hands trembling slightly as they clutched doors, trays, or weapons.

It was as if the entire palace had collectively paused, holding its breath in anticipation.

The bond mark on my neck burned, a low, insistent heat that flared hotter with every step.

My heartbeat quickened in response, hammering against my ribs so hard I feared it might leap from my chest.

A tingling sensation spread through my limbs, an electric awareness of something shifting in the air, something close and urgent.

I rounded the corner toward the council chamber and froze. Outside the doors, Arthit and Tonfah were both visibly struggling.

Their shoulders were stiff, breaths shallow and uneven, as though each inhale required a conscious effort.

Panic—or perhaps fear—flickered across their faces, and the moment they saw me, they hesitated, a silent question in their eyes.

Then, as though compelled by some unseen force, they moved quickly toward me.

“North,” Arthit said, voice tight, clipped. There was an edge to it, a tremor that made my chest tighten further.

The smell hit me before I registered anything else—a sweet, smoky scent curling through the air, licked by fire.

My nose twitched instinctively, a warning, and my senses sharpened.

There was danger here. Something elemental and immediate, and yet… something more. Something intimate, almost personal.

“Johan… needs you,” Arthit said again, urgency threading through his words.

I swallowed hard, my heartbeat stuttering in response, and I felt it in my bones—the invisible pull, the raw, magnetic tug of the bond.

My chest heaved, every nerve ending alive with tension, as if the very air between the hall and the council room had thickened with warning.

My palms tingled, my fingertips prickling with heat I couldn’t name.

Tonfah stepped closer, his eyes locked on mine, expression unreadable but solemn, lips pressed into a thin, hard line. “North,” he murmured, quieter this time, almost a warning. “You need to hurry.”

I tried to speak, to ask why, to demand—something—but my words caught in my throat.

The heat in my neck, the intensity in the air, and the strange, sweet tang of something dangerous… it stole my voice. My senses felt fractured, sharpened, and overloaded all at once.

Every instinct screamed at me: something was wrong. Something was urgent. Something… waiting.

And then, through the haze of tension and fear, a new sound reached my ears: soft but deliberate. A low, almost imperceptible vibration, like the echo of steel striking steel—or was it… a growl?

My gaze darted to the council room doors.

The smell of fire grew stronger, curling around me, prickling my skin, teasing my senses with an almost unbearable edge.

I took another step, and my heartbeat jumped as if trying to escape my chest entirely. My legs felt like lead, yet they moved, drawn forward by something I could neither name nor resist.

Arthit’s hand brushed against my arm—a grounding touch—but even that couldn’t steady the quiver in my limbs. Tonfah’s eyes held mine, warning, but I saw no answers there, only the same unspoken urgency mirrored in the other’s gaze.

The hall seemed to stretch, every shadow deeper, every corner sharper, every breath heavier.

My body throbbed with the heat of my own pulse, my neck burned more insistently, the bond screaming at me.

And then, just as I reached the threshold of the council room, the doors swung open with a sharp, metallic echo.

The moment I stepped into the chamber, the air shifted.

It wasn’t the heavy silence of politics nor the lingering bitterness of council debates—it was something else. Something primal. The atmosphere clung to me, dense and suffocating, as if the room itself exhaled heat.

And at the center of it stood Johan.

He leaned forward against the council table, one palm pressed flat to the wood, his shoulders tense with strain.

His head was lowered, dark strands of hair clinging damply to his temple as beads of sweat slid down the sharp curve of his jaw.

His chest rose and fell rapidly, too rapidly, like a man starved of breath.

When he finally lifted his head, my stomach dropped.

His face was flushed scarlet, the proud composure he always wore shattered into something raw and vulnerable.

His lips were parted, swollen as though he’d been biting them. And his eyes—those eyes that always held the weight of calm authority—now burned with a fevered fire, molten and desperate.

The bond mark at my neck seared to life.

It was no gentle pulse this time, no subtle reminder of what bound us. It blazed, burning as though a flame had licked straight through my veins.

I gasped softly, my hand instinctively flying to my neck as though to soothe it, but the fire only worsened the nearer I stepped toward him.

And still, I stepped forward.

I should have turned, should have listened to the panic that flickered in the guards’ faces outside, the dread that gripped Arthit and Tonfah, but every part of me was drawn to him. Drawn to that scent curling through the air—sweet, intoxicating, threaded with smoke and heat. It tugged at something deep inside me, something primal, and my body obeyed before my mind could catch up.

“North.”

His voice cracked through the silence. Rough, low, strained. The sound scraped against my chest, sending a shiver down my spine. He said only my name, but it was enough. It was not just a call—it was a plea, a warning, a tether all at once.

I froze, my heart hammering painfully against my ribs.

But then his gaze locked on mine, and I couldn’t stop myself. My feet carried me forward, each step making his breathing harsher, his grip on the table tighter.

The closer I drew, the thicker his scent became, winding around me, seeping into me. My throat felt tight, my lungs struggling to draw in air that wasn’t saturated with him. His entire presence burned through me, setting every nerve alight.

And still, I came closer.

At last, I stood before him. Johan’s body trembled, his jaw clenched, but his eyes softened—if only for me. That fire inside him flickered, not dimmed, but pulled in my direction as though the storm within him recognized me as its center.

My hands rose slowly, shaking. I should have stopped. I should have kept my distance. But the bond seared hotter than ever, and I couldn’t fight it.

My fingers brushed against his flushed cheek, cupping his face with trembling care.

The heat of him nearly startled me. He burned beneath my palms, his skin feverish, as though flames lived under his flesh.

His breath ghosted across my wrist—hot, uneven, ragged—each exhale sounding like a battle against himself.

His eyes fluttered shut at the contact. A sound escaped him, low and guttural, caught somewhere between a growl and a groan.
It reverberated through me, making my mark throb in answer. His body swayed imperceptibly toward my touch, every muscle taut as though my hands were the only thing keeping him tethered to control.

“North…” he rasped again, my name breaking in his mouth.

My chest tightened, my heartbeat deafening in my ears. I could feel it—his restraint unraveling, his body shaking with the force of holding himself back.

For a moment, we stood like that—his fever against my palms, my trembling against his control, the bond between us alive and merciless.

And then I realized.

This wasn’t illness. This wasn’t exhaustion. This heat, this scent, this hunger trembling just beneath his skin—it was instinct. Pure, consuming, primal instinct.

My breath caught. The fire at my mark surged, and the truth struck me like lightning.

Johan wasn’t merely fevered. He wasn’t unwell.

He was in rut.

The chamber seemed to close in around me, the walls pressing closer, the heat unbearable. His scent spiked the instant the realization crystallized in my mind, almost as though he knew I understood.

My hands shook against his skin. My instincts screamed to step back, but my body wouldn’t obey. My heart raced, my throat dry, every nerve in me alive to his ragged breathing, his trembling restraint, the bond blazing like a brand.

And in his fire-lit eyes, I saw it—the edge of control.

One more breath, one more second, and he would tip over it.

And I was the only one standing in front of him.

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Author's note-

How do you guys prefer your pizza?

I personally love mushrooms on mine 🧐.