Males don't typically go into heat—that's, like, the first thing I learned when I found out about sex… and honestly, it's probably the only thing I know about sex. We don't really talk about that kind of thing.
Anyway, this begs the question: why do I, a twenty-two-year-old male shifter, feel like I'm going to throw up blood and rip off my own skin because my insides feel like they've caught fire?
Fuck if I know.
I'd love to blame it on something I ate, but this is way worse than indigestion—I'm feeling and… wanting things I've never even thought about in my entire life. I'm basically having all of the symptoms of a heat, but there's no way that's possible.
The only logical conclusion is that I'm dying.
Best part? I'm in public—and not just a trip down the street to the apothecary for herbs.
No, I'm at an inter-tribe festival where beasts of all shapes and sizes, from clans near and far, have gathered to mingle together. This thing happens once every two years!
I wrap myself in an uncomfortable hug and glance around. I feel like everyone is looking at me… so many different eyes are burning into my already warm skin. People from all the different beast tribes, serpents, wolves, lions, avians… stares of every kind have found me in the crowd.
How unlucky can I possibly be?
A pair of inquisitive feline eyes is staring at me like I'm his prey. A shudder runs down my spine, and another wave of heat pulses through my body.
"Something's really wrong, Dad," I whisper awkwardly. "I don't… um, I think— I think I might be dying."
…It's now that I notice I have no idea where my dad even went. While I was distracted, he must have left me alone to get something.
My eyes widen in fear when I realize I'm alone. If he were here, I'd feel safe—because despite all the curious looks, no one would approach. No one dares to encroach on a dragon's personal space, let alone his cub's. 'Cub' is a funny word to use when I'm his adult son, but that's just how everyone refers to me. Since I can't shift into a dragon on my own, yet, I'm stuck as a dragon's kid instead of being a 'real' one.
…Alone, I'm nothing. I'm vulnerable.
I make a frantic sweep over the area, searching for any sign of him—or, at this point, anyone I recognize… but there's not a single soul around. I'm going to die alone in front of a bunch of strangers.
Great.
A sudden wave of nausea washes over me, and my knees give way.
Just as I'm about to collapse onto the ground, an unfamiliar scent overwhelms me. Strong arms grab me from the side, and a comforting numbness washes over my body.
"Emberkin, you shouldn't be here."
The voice is a low growl, but it isn't scary—it holds a gentleness that makes my heart race.
Emberkin… this man is a dragon, too? I haven't met one besides my dad. From what he told me, the others hardly leave the mountains. He and I are some of the very few that live amongst the other beasts.
I look up to put a face to the voice, and although my vision is bleary, I can make out his features clearly.
Strong, defined cheekbones caress a sculpted nose and pointed, phoenix-like brows. Narrow but protective eyes are looking down at me, the irises a brilliant shade of violet.
His hair is like silk, long and divine, flowing down his back in a wine-red waterfall, some of it falling into his face.
Yeah, now that I look at him, he could only be a dragon. Nothing else would make sense—his ethereal beauty surpasses anything I've ever seen.
"You can't be here," he whispers, correcting his first statement. His breath smells like cinnamon and oranges. The handsome stranger asks me, "Can I take you away?"
I nod—and I'm sure I look absolutely pitiful. How pathetic must I be that a dragon has to come and save me from myself?!
"Mn," he nods, bending down slightly to scoop his other arm beneath my knees. Before I know it, I'm being held like a child and whisked away from the event by a handsome stranger.
I'm in and out of consciousness, so I have no idea how long it takes for us to arrive—but when I feel myself being placed down gently, I take a good look around. It's an abandoned shrine of some kind, from what it looks like. There's no trace of a deity's idol or sculpture inside, so it must be unused.
"You might feel better if you undress," he suggests, then his eyes widen slightly, as if he realized something. He adds quickly, "I will look away, of course."
I raise a curious brow, "Why would it matter? We're both guys."
I don't undress in front of others; it's just a habit from when I was young. Dad always told me that it was uncouth for dragons to present themselves naked to others because they aren't meant to be looked upon.
So… there shouldn't be a problem in this case, right? We're both men and emberkin.
The man blinks a few times at me—hard. He searches my face for a few long moments before he smiles and lets out a soft chuckle. "You… you are very much not a guy," he says in a comforting tone, despite his obvious amusement.
"I'm… I'm not," I stutter. What the hell is he saying to me?! I've been a dude for two decades; nothing has changed. "I'm not a woman."
He hums in understanding, "Alright."
I go quiet. Shouldn't he argue a bit more? He seems convinced…
…
It doesn't make any sense. I have a beast's core, and the very few women in beast tribes are latent—practically human. They don't present any of their beast qualities the way I do, and all of the full-power beastwomen died two centuries ago when the Beast Empress died.
I'm… I'm not really a woman, right?
"Regardless, you should still undress so your body doesn't overheat," he says after a moment of pause. "Our bodies are sensitive to changes in temperature, especially during… times of duress."
If I weren't so desperate for my body to relax, I would question him further, but I decide not to. I'm too uncomfortable and it feels like my blood is boiling. I nod and start taking off my tunic, shrugging it over my shoulders and tossing it onto the floor beside me.
Soon, I'm in nothing but my chest wraps and underwear. I lean against the cool stone wall and sigh—it isn't much, but there's the slightest relief.
"Are you injured?" He asks.
I frown, narrowing my eyes at him in my feverish haze, "I'm literally dying."
"You aren't dying, I promise," he replies. "Besides, I meant the bandages on your chest."
…Why do I wear these?
I asked dad a few times when I was a teenager, but I haven't bothered since. He just told me it was something I needed to do when I went out, and not to worry about it.
It never made much of a difference to me before.
"I'm…" I struggle to come up with an excuse and decide to just give up. "I don't know why I wear them."
"I understand," he says in that quiet, patient tone. "There are a lot of confusing things happening at once, and I'm sure you're overwhelmed, but we should take care of your condition."
"Why… why are you even helping me? Who are you, anyway?" I can't help but ask, but my question is squeezing out between each of my labored breaths.
"Call me Ren," he tells me, "and… I'm helping because I care."
"...That's all? You… you went as far as taking me far away f-from the festival for the sake of letting me rest just because you care about a stranger?" I can't help but frown. Dragons aren't exactly well-known for their generosity and kindness.
Ren looks at me with a complicated expression. It looks like there are a lot of things going on in his head, and he's struggling to decide what to say. In the end, he says, "I feel responsible."
"Responsible? You did this to me?" I echo incredulously. "Yeah, right."
"I don't know what your father has told you, because it seems like he has hidden a lot," he starts, "but… do you know how our people mate?"
"All I know is that us dragonkin mate for life," I answer honestly. "If you mean specifics about rituals… Well, not really. Dad never told me about dragons, and the tribes don't really teach much, at least—not the bears, which is where I grew up. I did read an old book once that explained heat cycles briefly, but it wasn't anything useful since we're 90% men, and the living beastwomen are latent and don't experience them."
Ren listens to me intently, his piercing violet eyes never leaving mine. His stance is protective, and he has positioned himself between me and the door—conscious or not, I'm not sure. He hums in understanding, "I see. Daeleon has severely neglected your education."
I bristle. "How do you know my dad's name?"
"Everyone knows your dad's name," he shrugs. "Besides, you're the only emberkin alive that's younger than me, and Daeleon's the only sire to have a single, half-human cub."
Tears well in my eyes when another wave of boiling heat surges through my body, and a whine leaves my lips before I can stop it. I'm in so much pain, I can't stand it, and I end up cursing under my breath, "Fuck!"
Ren takes a few steps toward me, but is vigilant in not invading my personal space. His hand hovers near my arm, trembling—like he's fighting every instinct telling him to grab me. He has furrowed brows and an almost pained expression on his face, but his voice remains tempered as he asks, "Is it okay if I help you?"
I nod vigorously through the pain. I'd do anything to make this stop, I don't care what it is.
Despite my affirmation, he's hesitant. "It's going to feel really strange. If you don't like something, please tell me."
"I don't give a shit, just help me!" I hiss through gritted teeth, my legs trembling.
Ren doesn't say anything more, and his reservations disappear. He closes the distance between us and pulls me into his arms, resting my head against his chest. The moment I'm pressed against his body, a wave of calm seeps into my bones. Everything still hurts, but I suddenly feel safe—protected.
"Excuse me," he apologizes quietly. He reaches behind my back with one of his hands and starts to loosen my binding bandages—and the moment the fabric slackens, heat explodes throughout my entire body.