Usually, Xavier found that kind of ride relaxing. But tonight, it felt... crowded. The two women pressed in close — closer than they needed to, even though there was more than enough space. Angel leaned into him from one side, Lyra mirrored it from the other, her head resting lightly on his shoulder.
It was subtle at first — the way Angel's fingers began tracing the lines of his jacket, moving lower in slow, teasing patterns. Her tone was playful when she murmured something against his ear, half whisper, half purr. Lyra watched for a moment, eyes flicking between them. But instead of getting annoyed like she had earlier with Yelena, she smirked — and mimicked Angel's movements, brushing her hand down his other side in the same patterns.
Angel noticed and shot her a quick, competitive glance — one that said game on. Lyra didn't back down.
Xavier just exhaled slowly through his nose, leaning back into the seat, a faint grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. It was the kind of quiet chaos he never asked for — but somehow always attracted.
Angel's perfume clung to the air — that rich scent she always wore — while Lyra's hair brushed against his jaw, her touch light but trembling. Every time the hovercar turned, the faint shift in gravity pressed them closer, and neither woman seemed willing to move away.
Angel tilted her head slightly, lips grazing the edge of his jaw as she whispered something inaudible — teasing, deliberate. Lyra's hand followed, tracing his chest through his shirt with slow curiosity, her breath warm and uneven. The quiet competition between them had turned into an imitating game.
Xavier's eyes flicked forward — the reflection of Elira's silhouette barely visible in the driver's mirror — and he could tell that she, like any good machine, noticed everything and said nothing.
But when Lyra's hand lingered a little too long, her breath trembling near his throat, he finally spoke. His voice was calm, low, like a subtle warning.
"Angel," he said, eyes still forward, "you talked to Victor yet? About what I needed?"
Angel blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone. "Yeah," she said, her hand pausing mid-motion. "I told him you asked for the rock. That's what you wanted, right?"
Xavier nodded slowly. "That's all that matters."
He leaned back, thinking that maybe the subject change would ground things again.
It didn't.
Lyra shifted beside him, her breathing heavier now. Even with the air conditioner humming at full power, heat seemed to roll off her in waves. Her skin flushed with color, her pulse quick and erratic. At first, Xavier thought it was just the moment — the tension — but no. Her body was literally radiating heat.
Lyra unfastened the upper clasp of her coat and slipped it off her shoulders. The sudden exposure of pale skin and the faint shimmer of sweat caught the neon light through the glass, painting her in soft violet. Xavier could feel it — the heat of her arm brushing his.
Angel noticed too. She glanced sideways, one brow arched. "You good?" she asked, half teasing, half concerned.
Lyra didn't answer. Her eyes stayed locked on Xavier — not with intent, but instinct. Something deeper.
Angel, maybe from some competitive instinct or simple defiance, began peeling off her own outer jacket. The temperature drop from the AC brushed her bare skin, and she shivered — but instead of pulling away, she moved closer, pressing herself against Xavier's arm for warmth.
Lyra leaned closer again, the soft edge of her voice barely steady. "Xav… I— I don't know what's happening. My body—"
Xavier turned slightly, looking at her now, really looking. Her pupils were dilated, her breathing shallow. Whatever it was, it wasn't just desire — it was her biology taking over. Her mating phase was getting stronger, and this was seemingly only the first few hours of the first day.
Angel caught it too. Her playful smirk faded into quiet curiosity, and maybe just a trace of wariness. "You weren't like this last time," she muttered.
Lyra didn't answer — she just closed her eyes for a second, her hand gripping Xavier's sleeve tight enough for him to feel the tremor in her fingers.
Xavier exhaled slowly, jaw tightening, forcing his composure to hold even as both women leaned into him — one seeking warmth, the other trying to become it.
He knew this ride wasn't going to stay calm much longer.
Lyra's body trembled beside him, her skin feverish to the touch, her breathing sharp and uneven. He could feel it through the seat — that raw heat thrumming off her like a pulse. Her eyes, glassy and red-tinged, barely looked human anymore. Instinct had started to take over; the calm, soft girl he knew was slipping into something else.
Angel, still pressed close on his other side, sensed it too. The teasing smirk she wore minutes ago was gone, replaced by concern. "She's burning up."
"I know," Xavier said, his tone steady, though his jaw was tight.
He glanced down at Lyra, who was gripping the fabric of his sleeve, knuckles white. Her voice was small but heavy with strain. "Xav… it's getting worse."
He wanted to help her, but this wasn't something he could just brush off. Ignoring it wasn't an option anymore — not when she was shaking, her pulse racing like wildfire. Lyra's species' mating cycle wasn't just instinct; it was survival. Denying it could break her down from the inside out.
He thought fast. For a second, he considered reaching out — not in affection, but control — to calm her down the only way he knew worked. But the moment he raised his hand slightly, she leaned into his touch like it was gravity itself, and that stopped him cold.
He couldn't lose himself here.
Before he could make a choice, a soft chime came from the front console. The hovercar began to slow, the lights outside bleeding into industrial shadows. The hum of the engine faded to a low growl.
The vehicle came to a smooth stop. The door opened, revealing Elira standing outside. "We've arrived," she said, her voice melodic yet somehow hollow.
Xavier turned his head toward the window — and the sight waiting outside wasn't welcoming.
Xavier looked out at their destination - an abandoned multi-story factory looming against the night sky.
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