8

I blamed the drug. It had messed with my head and forced me into heat. If a fat, tottering old man with one leg and fungus on his face had found me instead of Wyatt, I’d have been all over him as well. It had nothing to do with Wyatt himself. That made sense, and it’s what I told myself. What I repeated over and over, swearing I’d never have another unholy thought about Wyatt until the day I died.

Once I was mostly under control, I checked my nightstand and found my phone plugged in and ready. When I checked the home screen, I had to blink and double-check, then triple-check the date. I’d been out for three days? Holy shit. If that was true, then my mating ceremony was the next day.

I sagged back onto my pillows. Jayson and I had finally picked a date a few weeks before, but it might have been postponed due to my accident. I had a very faint memory of him being at the parking lot where Wyatt had found me. I closed my eyes as I tried to remember if that had been real or part of some fe