“Estrus,” she blurts out. “You’re going into Estrus.” “Ah.” I nod. Sit back in my chair, scratching my temple. Gather all that I know about Estruses—Estri?—which is a beautiful wasteland of nothing. “People without degrees would call it going into Heat,” Koen says, and the realization crashes into me like a caravan of armored trucks. My behavior last night. The dreams. Koen’s…everything. “People with degrees, too,” Layla adds shyly. “But it can be a charged word. I wouldn’t want to upset you.” “You aren’t,” I say. Very upset. “Is this a thing that happens to Weres?” “Yes, it does. Usually in
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