In Heat (Sanctuary) (3 page)

“Hello?”

The scent of him hit Aisha just before his voice reached her ears.  Laundry soap, a little cologne,
male.
  A were male.  Aisha dropped her keys as she turned.  He stood in the apartment doorway directly opposite hers, a man with dark hair and sharp, pale eyes caught halfway between blue and gray.  Broad shoulders tapered down into a lean waist and thighs.  Wet hair bespoke of his having gotten out of the shower only moments before, and his tee shirt clung to his stomach in damp patches, shadows hinting at a set of abs that Aisha wanted nothing more than to bite and suckle her way down.  She pressed her thighs together again, hard, and watched the man’s nostrils flare.  Even from the other side of the hall, his pupils dilated.  He probably smelled her coming up the stairs.

“I’m fine,” Aisha said hurriedly, though the man had not asked.  “Just fine.”  She knelt to pick up her keys and took the opportunity to smooth her dress more firmly down across her thighs
, though it went against every instinct her heat-addled mind possessed.  Aisha forced her apartment key into the lock and entered quickly.  The back of her neck was aflame with the man’s gaze on her.  Had he lunged across the hall and grabbed for the doorframe before Aisha engaged the lock, she knew her next action would be dragging him into her bedroom.

Aisha moaned at the thought and bit down on her lower lip until bright sparks of pain flared up from the hurt.  Even that felt good; her own slick soaked her panties until they clung to her. 
Shit.
  Aisha tried to think of a clinic open at this time of night and came up with nothing, felt her entire body flush with mortification at the idea of going to the emergency room.  Aisha staggered in her bedroom only long enough to grab her vibrator from the bedside drawer before heading towards her bathroom and the shower.  Aisha shucked her dress over her head and threw it in the vague direction of her hamper before turning the water on to the coldest setting possible and leaping under the spray.  She shrieked as the frigid water lashed against her overheated back, but it did nothing to cool her.  Aisha was so wet and ready that she smelled herself even over the pounding water.  She turned the vibrator to its highest setting and slid it into her sex.  The immediate flare of pleasure sent her to her knees against the porcelain, her legs refusing to hold her any longer.  Aisha worked the vibrator in and out of herself in the long, slow rhythm that never failed to bring her off and bit the inside of her arm to hold back the sounds she made.  On every third or fourth stroke, she pulled the vibrator from herself in order to trace her clit with the tip.  It was mere moments before she came, releasing her arm when it became a matter of letting go or drawing blood.  Her strangled cry echoed about the porcelain.

Gasping and feeling as though her limbs had lost their bones as she came down, Aisha struggled into a sitting position and turned the vibrator off, setting it down next to her.  The frigid water continued to beat down upon her head and chest
.  Rather than cooling her, though, the tiny pinpricks of almost-pain made Aisha’s nipples rise into points, and she felt her cunt tightening all over again.  Moaning softly, Aisha rested her head back against the tile and slid first one finger into herself, then another, using her thumb to drag slow circles around her clit.  Her sex was still slick and sensitive from the last orgasm, the sparks her thumb sent rolling throughout her body almost painful.  Aisha added a third finger and then finally a fourth when it still wasn’t want she wanted, stretching herself, and sped up the movements of her hand.  She wondered if the nameless were from across the hall could smell her even beneath the spray, wondered if he would break down the door to get to her if she echoed loudly enough, if he would fill her up with his dick so she would maybe finally be satisfied—

Aisha bit the inside of her forearm
again to keep her shriek from echoing about the bathroom.  Her thighs shook.  The water still pounded down against her, finally uncomfortable rather than an enticing spur.  Aisha lay still at the bottom of the tub for several minutes, struggling to get her breath back, before climbing from the tub on trembling legs.  It took several tries to turn the shower spray off with her shaking hands.  Aisha pushed her wet hair out of her face and wrapped a towel around herself, belatedly realizing that her panties were probably ruined.  They had been nice, too.  She leaned her hip against the sink as her body refused to stop shaking and stared at herself in the mirror.  Her makeup had been washed off almost entirely by the shower spray, and the little eyeliner and mascara left ran down her face in horror-movie streaks.  Her lower lip had begun to swell from the force with which she had bitten it during her masturbation.

“This isn’t happening,” Aisha whispered to herself.  Everyone heard of late bloomers, people who realized they had enough were blood to manifest at the worst of all possible times, but it usually happened in college admissions interviews or in the backseat of limos on the way to prom (though Aisha always thought those tales of sudden heat-onset were just a little
too convenient to be true).  Never to someone in their mid-twenties.  As if her body heard her, another onset of lust began building low in Aisha’s belly, and she gripped at the edge of the sink hard.  “Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God,” she whispered, once again pressing her thighs together hard.  Aisha wondered if it would be possible to bring herself to orgasm just like this, not even touching herself, and the thought was so delicious that she wanted to try it.  Impatience won out, though, and Aisha ducked back into the shower only long enough to retrieve her forgotten vibrator before dashing for the bedroom.

***

Aisha brought herself to climax several more times than night with a combination of the toy and her own hand before finally managing to drift into a restless, heated sleep.  She dreamed of an anonymous set of hands roaming across her body, kneading at her breasts while a mouth grazed against the side of her neck, touch much too light to satisfy.  The mouth parted from her, its owner leaning back, and in her dream Aisha stared into eyes of a shocking, icy blue.  She woke with a start, bedclothes tangled about her body so tightly that Aisha flashed to a few of the other interesting moments of the night’s dreaming and flushed.  Her entire body still felt as if she raged with fever, an urgency tangled with her lust that Aisha had never experienced before.  More than sex, something primal deep inside of Aisha, buried at least a million years behind anything rational, wanted a
mate.
  Not that she would turn down at least two days of bed-breaking, neighbor-embarrassing sex, though.

Aisha spent the better part of thirty minutes
picking up her phone and then putting it back down again as she contemplated calling in sick to work.  The morning’s urgency, while irritating, was not nearly as bad as it had been the night before, though, and she had four different reports that needed to be submitted to the appropriate departments before the week was out.  It would be fine.  Full-blooded weres had roamed the world for thousands of years before the invention of heat-suppressants, and the history books contained shockingly few tales of leaders halting their armies in the middle of war or even writing an important speech to find the nearest warm body.  She could control this.  Goddamn it, she had gone twenty-six years without the were side of her nature raising its head for anything more than the occasional craving for rare steak, and the last thing she was going to do was throw her life on hold now.  The doctor would still be there tomorrow.

Aisha’s optimism lasted exactly as long as it took her to bundle into her coat and step outside her apartment building.  She wore her most conservative skirt and a blouse that buttoned up to her neck and concealed her arms all the way down to her wrists
, her legs covered in thick leggings.  Covering her skin, Aisha discovered less than two steps out her door, though, did absolutely nothing for her sense of smell.  People with were blood boasted heightened senses of smell and hearing as compared to ordinary humans, though nothing compared to the abilities of the full-blooded weres from before the societies had merged.  On an ordinary day, it meant that Aisha winced when fellow passengers on the bus played their iPods too loudly and knew before anyone else when popcorn was beginning to burn.  Today, it meant that she knew the location of every were within a half-block radius of her, be they male or female, whether they carried enough were blood to show the distinctive amber eyes or not.  And more to the point, the male weres noticed her.  Aisha received more double-takes as she walked down the street than she had at any point in her life since reaching puberty, even bundled up as she was in her skin-covering clothes.  Aisha caught herself turning her head automatically in response to every lingering stare, a flirtatious smile curving her lips.  The blouse that had seemed like such a good idea before leaving her apartment became sweet torture before she ever reached the bus stop as it brushed softly against her skin.  Aisha’s hair was twisted up into a bun on the top of her head, but strands worked themselves free to brush against her neck and remind her all over again of her night full of dreams.  She crossed her legs on the bus to avoid pressing her thighs together, only to watch as every man and a few of the women with even a trace of were blood pivoted towards her as one, drawn to her scent.  By the time Aisha staggered into her office building, she heartily regretted her decision to leave her apartment building, as well as her bright idea to wear any clothing at all, since it didn’t seem to be doing much than driving her to distraction.

“You’re late, are you sure you’re…” 
Cassie poked her head over the top of her own cubicle and immediately widened her eyes.  “Oh, my God, what are you doing here?”

“I’m fine,” Aisha answered automatically, even though by that point
not even her most optimistic moments allowed her to believe she was anything like okay.  Raymond, the skinny mailroom clerk who coupled a tendency to stare at Aisha’s tits like he had never been weaned with an aversion to any and all modern grooming standards, walked by with his cart and nearly tripped over himself as he caught scent of her.  Worse, Aisha half-rose from her chair to follow him before she caught herself and sat back down again quickly.  “Oh, shit,” she said helplessly, her refrain for nearly twelve hours now.

“Yes, you’re incredibly fine,”
Cassie snapped sarcastically.  She scurried around the cubicle wall and grabbed for Aisha’s hands, stilling her from taking off her coat.  “What kind of meds are you on?  How have I never noticed you going into heat before?  That European shit’s not safe, you know.”

Aisha batted
Cassie’s hands away and balled her own into fists in her lap.  “I’m not taking anything,” she said.

“That explains the terrible life-choice you were about to make
.”

“No, I mean.”  Aisha paused to worry at her lower lip, except that felt good, too, and she very much regretted her crack to
Cassie about cramps being worse than heat from the night before.  “I’ve never gone into heat before.  This is the first time.”

Cassie
stopped and lifted her eyebrow.  “You’re not serious,” she said.  “Fuck me, you’re serious.”

“Not a good choice of words right now.”  Aisha sighed shakily.  Across the office, she noticed more and more heads poking over the walls of their cubicles at her.  People with were blood made up a
quarter or so of the population at best, so Aisha must be making a spectacle of herself.  She put her head in her hands.  “I mean it.  I’ve never gone into heat before.”

“Are you secretly twelve?” 
Cassie sounded more concerned than mocking, though, and she took Aisha by the elbows to pull her to her feet.  “Come on.  You can’t stay here.”  Aisha nodded dumbly, the determination she had felt upon leaving her apartment an hour before now nothing more than a dim memory.  Even the faint swish of her skirt against her legs as she moved turned her on.

“What is going on over here?”  Aisha looked up to find Marge, the older, unfortunately box-shaped office manager standing before them. 

“Aisha’s not feeling well, ma’am,” Cassie said politely.  “I’m taking her to a doctor.”

Marge looked Aisha up and down, and her nostrils flared.  She nodded.  “Bring in a note next week,” she said.

“Next week?” Aisha asked.  “I’m coming back tomorrow.”

Cassie
laughed softly.  “Oh, honey,” she said.  “You have no idea.”

Marge nodded again.  “Next week,” she repeated.  “Don’t worry, if you don’t have enough sick time, last year’s health care reform officially puts it under FMLA.”
  Cassie paused long enough to throw Aisha a triumphant look.

“Yay, me,” Aisha said weakly.  She let
Cassie lead her out of the office to a chorus of stares and one man getting up from his desk and hurrying towards the bathroom.  Aisha glanced over her shoulder as they went.  “I never would have guessed that.”

“Marge?  Yeah, colored contacts.”

“But she’s married.”

“Don’t be narrow-minded, Aisha.” 
Cassie flagged down a cab and helped Aisha into the backseat, where she immediately started rubbing comforting circles between Aisha’s shoulders.  Aisha took a few deep breaths, attempting to calm herself, and then groaned and twitched Cassie’s hand away when even that started the familiar heat to roll through her body again.

“Sorry,” she said as
Cassie snatched her hand back.  “It’s not personal.”