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"Don't be ridiculous," she says, patting the bed beside her. "This bed is huge. We can share."

"That's not a good idea."

"Why not? Are you afraid you can't control yourself around me?" She takes a sip of tea.

"Yes," I admit bluntly.

Her eyes widen slightly at my honesty. "Oh… who is this?" She nods toward a framed photo on my bedside table

"That's my sister, Tessa."

"She's beautiful. She looks like you around the eyes."

"She was," I say quietly. "The Crimson Plague took her two years ago."

Dahlia's teasing smile fades. "I'm so sorry, Leo."

"She was the first case I knew personally. By the time they understood what was happening to her, it was too late." I sit down on the edge of the bed, keeping some space between us. "She died in a lab, surrounded by scientists who wanted to use her as an experiment while her body tore itself apart."

"That's why you don't trust researchers,"

I nod. "It's nothing personal."

"It feels pretty personal now." She sets her tea aside and pulls the bathrobe tighter around her. "Everything feels personal now."

She looks suddenly small, vulnerable. Not the fierce, brilliant scientist I've come to know.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

She laughs, but there's no humor in it. "Everything? A week ago, I was Dr. Dahlia Baldwin, geneticist. Now I'm some rare Omega shifter with heat cycles that make me want to fuck every Alpha in sight. I've had more sex in the past few days than in the last 5 years, and I barely recognize myself anymore."

"It gets easier," I tell her. "Once you understand your body, you can learn to control it."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better? That someday I might not turn into a sex-crazed animal whenever an Alpha walks by?"

"You're still you," I say firmly. "Being an Omega doesn't change who you are. It's just another part of you. You will only be attracted to your alpha anyway."

She studies me for a long moment. "You know, for a grumpy bear, you can be surprisingly sweet."

"Don't tell anyone. I have a reputation to maintain."

That gets a genuine smile from her. "Your secret's safe with me, Detective."

The bathrobe slips from her shoulder, revealing the curve of her breast. Only her nipple remains covered, and my mouth goes dry at the sight.

She notices me staring and makes no move to fix it. "Do you want me, Leo?"

"Fuck," I swear, running a hand through my hair. "I can't."

"Why not?" she challenges. "You wanted me at the safe house."

"That was different."

"How?"

I don't have an answer that makes sense. It was different because I wasn't thinking clearly, and she was in heat.

"Come closer," she says softly.