Marked by My Secondhand Delivery Wolf

Over the next month, Adrian became the most talked-about courier in the district.

He delivered fast, lifted like a machine, and looked intimidating enough that no one dared file complaints.

My business doubled.

I was extremely satisfied with him.

Except for his increasingly serious "condition."

He stopped sleeping on the camp cot I had prepared for him.

Every night, I would wake up to find him asleep on the carpet in my room.

Right beside my bed.

Sometimes I would open my eyes in the middle of the night and see a pair of glowing green eyes fixed on me in the dark.

Unblinking.

His body temperature kept rising, too.

The entire room felt like a furnace because of him.

Worse, he developed an obsessive need for physical proximity.

When I was entering data at the front desk, he would wedge himself between me and the counter.

When I was eating, he stared at my lips.

When I walked, he followed less than two feet behind me.

The grinding sound had turned into heavy breathing.

It made my nerves tighten.

That night, I stepped out of the shower and found Adrian sitting on my bed.

He was holding the clothes I had just taken off.

His face was buried in them as he inhaled deeply.

At the sound of the door, he lifted his head.

His eyes were rimmed red. Sweat beaded across his forehead. The veins in his neck stood out sharply.

"Adrian! What are you doing?"

I rushed over and snatched the clothes away.

He looked embarrassed and angry, but more than anything, caught off guard.

He didn't apologize.

Instead, he stepped closer.

"Jade, I can't control it."

His voice was rough, almost pleading.

"You smell too good."

I pressed my hand to his forehead.

Burning.

Hot enough to sting.

"Do you have a fever?"

Panic crept in.

He was my main source of income. If he went down, who was delivering those packages?

"Adrian, did you catch something? Some acute infection? Is this rabies or something?"

He closed his eyes, as if holding himself together by sheer will.

He caught my hand where it rested on his forehead and pressed his face into my palm.

His skin felt rough, the scrape of stubble against my hand.

But the way he leaned into it was almost reverent, like a large dog begging to be petted.

"I don't have a fever. I just… feel empty here."

He tapped his chest. Then his mouth.

"I need to bite something. It has to be you."

He sounded delirious.

Clearly out of his mind from the heat.

"Enough. Lie down. I'll get you some medicine."

I pushed him onto the bed and pulled the blanket over him.

Adrian tried to get up, but I shot him a stern look.

"Don't move. I'll dock your pay."

That worked.

Adrian went still.

He curled up in my blanket, nose pressed firmly into my pillow.

His eyes looked damp as they followed me.

That rapid rumbling sound vibrated in his throat again.

I remembered what the seller had said about heightened aggression during rut phase.

Could the incubation period really be this long?

Not taking any chances, I turned and ran out of the room.