He waited as long as he could to bring it up, but knew that there was no hiding from Don. They lived in the same area after all. He would notice the trash and the box and anything Rowan did. There was a reason Rowan hadn’t bothered hiding his journals. He knew Don went into his room sometimes. It was somewhat disconcerting, but it was also Don’s way of making sure Rowan was okay. That Rowan was sure of. Don was incredibly attentive to his moods and general well-being.

Which was why he had no choice but to answer honestly when the two reunited later in the evening and Don asked, “What has you so nervous, my boy?”

It struck Rowan how odd it was that he should feel anxious to tell Don anything. Don knew more about him than anyone, really. Brow furrowed, he stared guiltily at the ground. He didn’t know how to phrase it. Like a secret the way the doctor had? Should he be blunt? What should he do?

Speak. That’s what he should do. “I um . . . started . . .,” how did ladies put it now, he wished he’d gotten out more, “a cycle? I think?” He felt his face growing hot. He still couldn’t look up at Don as he said it. He felt sick, his insides roiling. Or maybe it was a side effect of the bleeding. Maybe. He didn’t know. “I started bleeding, and—”

“That isn’t a cycle, son.” Rowan looked up then, and Don’s face was . . . utterly unreadable. Still, Rowan listened as he spoke. “While your body is cleansing itself, it is not a monthly cycle.”

Whether it was his own worries or the fact Don was actually answering his questions, he didn’t know. All he knew was that questions started spilling from his lips. “Then what is it? I thought skinwalkers were either men or infertile women, so what is this? Why would my body be cleansing—?”

“Take a moment and consider if you would actually exist were your mother infertile.”

“But then—?”

“Have you ever researched wolves? You share a kin with them, son.” Rowan nodded, taking the hint and quieting to think and listen. Don settled down in a seat before him, leaning forward on his elbows to gaze intensely at Rowan. “You are upset, which is natural.”

“Honestly, your attitude doesn’t help with that.” Rowan didn’t realize he’d said it until he saw Don’s eyes flash behind his glasses. He covered his mouth, astonished at his own inability to control his tongue. There was a reason Aiden would retaliate against Rowan. He was a smartmouth, but usually he was able to contain it.

Don’s voice dropped lower, more warningly as his gaze narrowed. “I’ll be frank with you, Rowan.” He shivered at the way Don said his name, feeling more endangered than ever. This wasn’t right, he shouldn’t feel like he was being threatened. “You’re in the first stages of going into season. For your safety, I’m going to ask that you stay here until it is over.” Rowan again had to take a moment to process what was being said. By the time he did, his heart was racing and Don had continued speaking. “If I remember correctly, you will have major mood swings that may sometimes lead to you becoming violent. You will attract unwanted attention from humans and inhumans mostly because of this behavior, and otherwise because of pheromones. Essentially, you will have to take a month off from work to ensure you are safe from those who would respond to the scent you put off as well as to keep from seeking out any attention.”

It took Rowan all of five seconds before there was a whine escaping his throat, which was then quickly accentuated with more shivering and the very anxious twist of his guts. He held up his hands as he pleaded with Don, “There aren’t any medications I can take for this? Like, no contraceptive?”

“None for your specific biology I’m afraid, son.”

“Would spaying make it stop?”

“Doctors have been unwilling to try that on the more humanoid creatures. Our last Doctor was booted for suggesting it if you recall.”

“What am I supposed to do?!” Was what Don was describing really what he needed to expect? Was he truly . . . this? He started whining more. He felt himself slipping into a form of hysterics he hadn’t entertained in a long, long time. He was terrified. Don made it sound like he would be attacked the moment he left the flat. Worse yet, he insinuated he would like it. He would be up and pacing if he didn’t feel so paralyzed at the moment. He was scared to death. “What do I do?!”

“You do as I say and stay here.” Don came to sit beside Rowan, draping an arm over Rowan’s shoulders and pulling him close. Rowan was tense in his hold, but he didn’t pull away. “I will provide what I can for you, and I will ask someone to cover any duties you have outside this room.” Don rubbed Rowan’s shoulders as he spoke. Rowan didn’t really hear the rest.

And he didn’t feel comforted.

The following day he woke up and he’d bled on his sheets. He grumbled, but changed them all the same. Though he felt fine, he stayed in bed. He worked on his case files, and he ate and went to the bathroom and did just about everything he normally would minus the wandering through the building. It wasn’t until the third day the cramps started.

They were painful enough that day. He whined intermittently and asked Don not to touch him. Don didn’t. The fourth day was much, much worse. He was at his heaviest flow wise and he was miserable. He didn’t get out of bed at all, not even to eat.

When Don came in to bring him hot tea and brush his hair forward with his fingertips, Rowan actually growled. Something as simple as fingers running over his scalp gave him horrible pins and needles and he was baring his teeth in preparation to bite. Don’s hand withdrew just enough to make the growling cease. He pet one more time and that’s when Rowan almost bit him.

He came to his senses when Don flexed his fingers and suddenly there were bright, red strings trapping him still in his own bed. He felt sick to his stomach and the cramps were so bad he was ready to cry. He whimpered out an apology, which Don took in stride. He really hadn’t meant to bite . . . he just didn’t want to be touched. It hurt. At least Don was gentler on his head after that.

Buried under several blankets Rowan hid with his pillow against his chest. He whined, but didn’t feel as crampy as he had the day before. In fact, he felt a little better. But he still felt guilty for almost biting Don. He also felt gross. He hadn’t showered the whole time he’d been here. Maybe if he could just get up and head to the restroom then he would take a nice hot shower. Tentatively peeling the covers off . . . .

He yanked the covers back into place. For whatever reason, it was freezing outside of his makeshift nest. Letting out a groan, he tried emerging once again only to retreat once more. Why did it have to be so cold? Florida winters weren’t completely mild, but they weren’t this frigid either.

He made the executive decision to wrap himself in one of the blankets and head cloaked against the cold into the bathroom. He needed to wash his sheets anyway, no need to try and make his bed. The floors felt colder against his bare feet than normal. Everything felt colder.

He turned on the shower before getting undressed, letting the steam and temperature heat the room before shedding his cloak and remaining clothing. Once naked, he stepped inside and promptly stepped out of the hot stream of water. Upon touching the still somewhat chilly wall however, he bounced back into the scalding rain. He waited, letting himself adjust before he thought himself decently prepared to continue bathing.

The majority of him started to feel clean almost as soon as the water hit him. It was his hair that needed a lot of care. His hair and the blood between his legs. He started off scrubbing at it, feeling disgusted just thinking about it. He felt ashamed really. For perhaps the first time in his life, he wished he didn’t have a female body. Then maybe this wouldn’t be such an issue.

As he washed, he noticed he had in fact stopped bleeding. Good. He was tired of bleeding on himself. He also noticed the increased sensitivity in his nether region. He closed his eyes upon rubbing a particular spot between his legs, a stuttered breath escaping his lips. He bit his lip, daring to press his soaped up fingers against the spot at the top of his folds. It was a noticeable groove, and it . . . responded to his fingers. There was a spark of electricity that shot through his pelvis and up his spine when he brushed the spot. He gasped, leaning on the wall with his forearm as he fiddled with the groove. More sparks. It was . . . it felt good.

It was frightening.

Pulling his hand away, he struggled to catch his breath as he washed off the soap and remnants of his bleeding. Despite how good that had felt, he wanted to get out and get back to work. Cleaning off and turning off the water, he grabbed a towel from the rack beside the shower stall and moved to wrap it around himself. Small pangs in his pelvic area replaced the sparks, ghosts of how it had felt to touch himself there. Moving to the sink, he brushed his teeth and did his best to ignore the sensation growing between his legs. Taking a pad back to his room just in case he started bleeding again, he picked up the dirty laundry and braced for the chilly air before opening the door.

After being in the steamy sauna of a bathroom, it felt like he was walking right back into the last level of Hell. He almost ran to drop the laundry in the bin, but had to slow down. The friction made the pangs worse, made him feel strange. Dumping his clothes and blanket, he clutched the sanitary napkin in his other hand and hastened to his room. He felt himself growing anxious as he felt something slick between his thighs, worried that he was bleeding all over himself again. When he finally got back to his room, he wasn’t. The substance was clear, and the sensitivity was growing. He was glad he hadn’t woken up Don, but at the same time . . . .

He hoped his partner-to-be didn’t come in here and find him like this.

Rowan was shivering as he pulled a long shirt on. He tried to get on a pair of underwear at least, but found it almost excruciating to open his legs wide enough. The cold air hitting him there made him whine loudly. Before he knew it, the whine turned into a keen and suddenly he was feeling sick again. He abandoned the underwear and settled for pulling the shirt down to cover himself.

Yanking the sullied sheets and other blankets off his bed, he was still shaking trying to put on some new ones Don had left on his dresser. He wanted to flop down on the mattress, but he hated the thought of just lying on it bare. He wanted something soft to lie on, something smooth. When he had made the bed as messily as he possibly could, he slid in and promptly moaned into his pillow. Upon pulling the blankets into place and trying to get comfortable again, he realized why it felt so frigid to him.

His skin was practically on fire.

He really was feeling sick.

He must have rolled over ten times before lying flat on his back with the blankets stuffed between his legs. The slickness against his thighs felt uncomfortable. His mouth was agape and moans and whines were pouring past aching teeth and lips. His fingertips felt just as achy. He dug them into his pillow, poking holes in the case as he had done to his clothes on accident many times over. His breath came out in huffs and keeping the blanket between his legs didn’t seem to help but instead make him vocalize more.

Rowan didn’t realize just how foggy his head was until he heard footsteps outside his room. The moment of clarity left him shuddering again. Suddenly, he knew exactly what Don had meant when he had said Rowan may want to seek others out for help. The fear from before came back full force then. He curled up on his side in shame, once again tugging the covers over him to hide. His eyes were wide and suddenly teary as he continued to shake. Another whine loosed from his throat.

If there was any moment that made him feel truly monstrous as opposed to just a more animalistic human, this was it. This was the moment he realized he was never going to feel human again.