I myself couldn’t fathom a reason. Everything I’d ever heard about omegas and heats centered around the fact that heats were broken by copious amounts of fucking. What happened between us last night was the definition of that. Last night, I fucked Jules for hours. Hours. I knotted him. I brought him to orgasm every time a wave hit him. I was literally stuck inside him till morning. Honestly, I was at a loss as to what more I could possibly do.

He smirked as if the matter was of no major interest to him. “Maybe there’s something I want but haven’t gotten yet.”

“What do you want?”

“Dunno.” He shrugged. “No idea. I guess I’ll know it when I see it.”

When we got to the cabin, I pulled on a pair of jeans and a white tee that used to be loose, but now hugged my pecs and biceps snugly. Afterward, I went outside and lit a fire. Neither of us was hungry, but Jules and I both liked sitting outdoors and since we didn’t have a TV in the cabin, staring at a fire was the next best thing. He took a while to come out. By the time he did, I’d started to feel antsy. He walked out of the cabin clean shaven. The smoothness of his face showed off his sharp jawline to perfection. He was barefoot, wearing a pair of dockers and a washed-out chambray shirt.

Oooh, God, he looked hot.

He took his time rolling up his sleeves till they fell just below the elbow. I was transfixed as he did it. My vision honed in on the parallel lines on his knuckles. I watched as he folded the fabric. His fingers were long and graceful. Blue-green veins meandered up the back of his hands, tracking up his arms before disappearing under his sleeves. I watched him so closely, I could hear the drum of his heart at every pulse point. At least, I thought I could. At some point, I couldn’t tell his heartbeat from mine. They were both loud. Persistent. They seemed to grow faster with each passing second.

I sat back on the bench, leaning heavily against the backrest, and watched Jules as he stoked the fire. His heat seemed different. He didn’t seem wild or out of control. His movements were smooth. Liquid. The calm before a storm. The moon was waning, and it was dark. The light from the cabin cast long shadows across the clearing. Night had drawn in. I noticed a thick mist encroaching. It rose up from the earth. It seemed to circle us, swirling around us in a wide arc, gradually growing closer.

Jules was talking animatedly. I was having a hard time keeping up with him. Some of what he was saying made perfect sense and some of it made none.

“…born this way,” he said.