Chapter 3 Is Your Rut Starting

Once Cathy realized what was going on, she nearly felt sick.

Dark, dried blood still clung to the whip. Her stomach twisted at the sight, and a wave of nausea hit her.

What the hell had been wrong with the old "Cathy?"

So she couldn't produce pheromones. That didn't change the fact that she was still a princess of the Holy Starshine Empire. Being insecure about it didn't give her the right to torture people.

For the first time, she thought the old "Cathy" might have deserved her fate in the novel.

"Get that thing out of here." Cathy turned her face away in disgust. "I'm not using it today, and don't bring it into my room again."

Dominick didn't move.

His hesitation got on her nerves, and Cathy's voice grew firmer. "Throw it away. Now."

Dominick's hands stopped for a moment before he slowly looked up at her. Confusion showed clearly on his face.

Normally, even the smallest mistake was enough to earn him a brutal beating. Yet now she was telling him to get rid of the whip altogether? Had she come up with some new way to punish him?

"Understood," he answered.

He lowered the whip and pressed one hand against his knee before rising to his feet. He still looked cautious as he headed toward the door, almost as though he expected Cathy to stop him at any second. But she didn't say another word.

A quiet scoff escaped him. Maybe the princess was simply in a good mood today.

Before he could leave, a sharp ringing suddenly filled his head. He stumbled, and his knees nearly gave out beneath him.

His first thought was that Cathy had done something to him again.

Then heat surged through his lower abdomen, bringing a rush of arousal that was far too familiar. He immediately understood what was happening.

"Damn it. Why now?" he murmured.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Cathy asked as she quickly walked toward him.

She had barely reached out to steady him when Dominick jerked away from her.

"Don't touch me!" His voice came out rough and strained. The feverish heat had already begun spreading through the rest of his body.

Cathy froze and stared at him.

Dominick had one hand clamped tightly around his collar as though he thought she might force herself on him at any moment.

Then she noticed how flushed he looked, and something from the novel suddenly came back to her. "Wait... is your rut starting?"

The disgust on his face was enough of an answer.

A male werecreature's rut could become dangerous fast. The only thing that could calm him was a female's pheromones, but the old "Cathy" hadn't been able to produce any.

Whenever one of her mates went into rut, she couldn't do anything to ease it. Instead, she made things worse. She would curse at them, call them animals who only cared about mating, then grab the whip and beat them.

The old "Cathy" responsible for all of that was gone now. Unfortunately, she was the one left dealing with the damage the old "Cathy" had caused.

Just thinking about it made her head hurt.

"Hey, don't worry. I'm not going to hit you." Cathy lowered her voice, hoping he would believe her.

Dominick was already too far gone to process what she was saying. Each wave of arousal hit harder than the last, leaving his thoughts muddled and his breathing short and uneven.

He bit down on his lower lip hard enough to draw blood, but even that wasn't enough to stop the strained sounds slipping from his throat. His control was falling apart. The spiritual space was killing him.

For one desperate moment, he even wondered if ending his own life would be easier than enduring another second of it.

Then a scent drifted toward him. Cedar. It was faint, but it was coming from Cathy.

Was he imagining it?

The scent was cool, clean, and unexpectedly gentle. It cut through the torment inside him like rain falling after a long drought, easing the unbearable heat that had been tearing through him.

His rut had already taken over, leaving little room for conscious thought.

He moved toward Cathy on instinct and buried his face against her neck, breathing in her scent as though he desperately needed more of it.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Cathy immediately went stiff.

Dominick didn't seem to hear her anymore. His usual cold, defiant look was gone, and his eyes had turned hazy and unfocused. His tongue brushed carefully across her forehead before slowly moving lower. When he reached her lips, he kissed her roughly.

His other hand reached toward her breast. The moment his fingers met the fabric of her gown, frustration crossed his face.

Without thinking, he tore the fabric out of the way.

Cool air hit Cathy's chest, and she stared down in disbelief.

Before she could recover from the shock, Dominick had already leaned closer on instinct. His cool mouth closed over her nipple.

Cathy quickly covered her mouth to hold back a moan.

She reached out to push him away, but her fingers accidentally brushed against the gland at the back of his neck.

The instant she touched it, her vision suddenly distorted.

A shadowy figure appeared behind Dominick, surrounded by an aura so powerful that it made her freeze.

It was an enormous, thick-bodied serpent covered in hard black scales that carried a cold sheen. Its crimson eyes locked onto her, and the narrow vertical pupils made its stare even more intimidating.

Cathy drew in a deep breath.

She saw Dominick's spiritual self.