Vinorca Jona POV

"What is wrong with you?"

A hand touched my hot cheeks, spreading coolness through my whole body as it burned, like molten lava pouring over me.

With my blurry vision, I could still figure out who was touching me. Dante. His expressions shifted constantly, maybe from my shaky vision.

I moved my lips. "I don't know. It feels like I'm sitting on a stove."

Please save me. I wanted to beg so badly. Words didn't come out in any form, not like my ego could survive in this situation—it was my head messing with all my words.

"Fuck, you're in heat."

Dante's words whiplashed me hard enough...