We walk into the locker room without pausing. The steam rises from the communal shower stalls, obscuring our sight. Soaps and lotions sting our nostrils. A growl bubbles up. We will have trouble protecting our mate in this place, but we need to make a statement.

Our mate is craning her neck to peer up at us. Her eyes are wide and surprised.

"What are you doing?" she whispers. "This is the female's locker room!"

Yes, it is, and I've seen how these females eye our mate. They are in need of a demonstration, but we upset our mate when we tore the hair from the blonde female's head and we won't make that mistake again. We need a different sort of demonstration.

"We could just go back to the apartment and shower," the Brat mutters just before two females spot us and shriek with surprise.

"We could, but we won't," I tell him. He nods, understanding the point as other females stare at us in shock.

"Come, mate," I purr to our tiny female. She obediently walks with us toward the shower in the center of the bay.

A female is stepping out of it, nude and wet, with a casual smirk on her face as she spots us. She saunters to her towel, taking her time before bending at the waist and flashing us with her body's most intimate places.

"Oh, for the love of the goddess," our female mutters.

We guide her to the bench that the flashy naked female is using and, again without pause, whip the soft sports tank off of our mate.

"Hey!" she protests before a startled gasp leaves her lips as the Brat shucks his shorts, drawing all of the eyes to his jutting cock, pointed straight at our mate. Slowly, he kneels, tossing our mate a casual smirk, and reverently peels her sweat-soaked biker shorts down her legs. We hold her as she steps out of them, trembling a little when the Brat uses his position to sweetly kiss the tops of her thighs. Clever Brat.

The flashy naked female makes the slightest noise of derision just before we feel her brush our arm with her naked breast. The sound that rumbles out of our chest is unlike anything we've ever produced. The locker room goes utterly still and silent. Even the Brat freezes, halfway standing.

"Don't touch him!" our mate snaps at the female, her eyes darkening to pewter.

The female wisely stays quiet, eyes pinned to the floor. Angrily, our mate snatches up the female's belongings and shoves them at the female. "Take these and stop making him uncomfortable."

Our mouth stretches in a smile as our mate defends us. We hide it by stripping our own clothes off and reaching into the shower to adjust the temperature. As we do we take the time to examine her body. She's still on the thin side, although she already has more muscle tone than a month ago. When she twists, blushing, as the Brat turns her around to put her under the spray, we see the faint ripple of her ribcage under her skin.

Frowning, we grab the shampoo the luna gave us. Our mate needs to be fed more if she is going to be working this hard. "Drink," I demand from the Brat.

Rolling his eyes, he retrieves the bottle of Gatorade from the bench and tips it up to our mate's mouth. She huffs a little, but tips her head back and swallows as I start to soap up her hair.

"Oh," she murmurs breathlessly, her head falling back as her eyes drift closed. A smirking Brat caps the Gatorade then takes advantage of our mate's position to kiss her neck. She giggles and we smile in response until she opens her eyes to scold the Brat, "Braxton!"

"Eyes closed, mate," we murmur, worried that the suds will run into her eyes. I run my hand down her spine to her ass until her body relaxes again and her eyes drift shut.

"So fucking beautiful," the Brat mutters as he soaps up her breasts, thumbing her nipples into tight peaks. We watch her carefully for signs of stress, but she stays pliant in our arms, a tiny smile on her face. We press closer, rubbing our hard cock on her slick, warm skin.

"This is alright, mate?" we hush out. Our beautiful female hums softly in response as we massage her hair. Steam from our shower is filling the room, but even with the obscured vision, all of our mate's soft sighs and moans can be heard over the sound of running water.

We keep massaging her scalp, her shoulders, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to her wet shoulders and neck every so often. When we reach the Brat's Mark we don't hesitate to kiss her there, too. She whimpers in pleasure and we have to crush the urge to smash our lips against hers. We can touch the Brat's Mark and neither of our mates flinches. Thank the goddess.

The Brat kneels again, our female's breasts abandoned so that he can slather her with soap and kisses. She is giggling helplessly as he tickles her feet, her waist, her thighs, grinning like a mad fool the entire time.

The mood shifts so quickly that we don't realize we are moving until we are at the entrance to the shower stall, bristling with violence.

---

"Babydoll, what the fuck is this?" Braxton's voice sounds utterly panicked. It's as if the hot, soothing water cascading over my skin is shut off and all that's left is freezing cold ice.

"Brat?" Sean inquires from in front of us, his entire frame filling the space as he postures aggression just a heartbeat after he was giving me the best scalp massage ever.

"She's bleeding," Braxton says grimly.

Oh, for the love of the goddess. Of course, I'm bleeding. Skating punishes your feet and my skates are new. I can't wear the ones from a year ago. This is just what happens. I barely even notice the sting of water and soap on my cuts and abrasions. It's not worth losing that massage over!

Then Sean abandons his post and kneels in front of me with Braxton. I start to shiver as my she-wolf whimpers as worry steals into us. Both males have their noses pressed to my thighs... nowhere near my feet.

Braxton's large hands pry my thighs apart and holds my left leg over his arm. Sean touches me... there. It's a clinical touch, gentle but probing.

"I'm bleeding?" I ask, my voice going higher until it ends in a squeak. I don't feel anything. There isn't any pain or cramping, nothing like what is supposed to happen when she-wolves have their heat bleeds.

Braxton scoops me up a second later. "Rinse her," he rumbles. With the same deft, clinical movements, Sean finishes rinsing out the suds from my scalp. Gone are the sweet, sexy touches, the low male rumbles soothing any worry and tension I felt. Their concern is driving my fear higher and higher until my chest feels tight and my eyes are pricking with tears.

I'm bleeding. I never bled after my heat, which normally only happens when a female is pregnant, but I knew I wasn't pregnant. My she-wolf knew we weren't pregnant. The doctors told me that my heat was interrupted because of Braxton's Mark and the shock my body suffered. I was physically weak, anyway, so my heat cycle was bound to be strange. So why am I bleeding now?

"What is this?" Braxton huffs out to Sean as I'm wrapped up in a fluffy towel and rushed past all of the gaping females.

"It doesn't hurt," I protest, as I realize that my males are furiously panicking.

Braxton kisses my forehead but doesn't reply. I'm not going to get anywhere with him. "Sean? It doesn't hurt. It's most likely my heat cycle that got so messed up."

"You are bleeding," Sean says quietly.

"Clinic. Now," Braxton snaps. I'm not sure if he's talking to me or Sean, but I stop arguing. When Braxton loses his temper it's not a good idea to fight with him.

We walk out of the locker room past the alpha females and I immediately start to shiver. "Cold," I whine. Braxton doesn't break his stride but does gather me up more tightly in his arms. Sean goes around us and takes the lead, slamming open doors as they hurry to the on-site clinic in the athletic center.

"She's bleeding," Braxton announces as we burst into the clinic. I blink at the changes to the room we're in. Over a year ago this place looked fairly simple; a couple of cots with shelves filled with gauze and athletic tape, an office or two, and a few giant, male wolf-sized bathtubs for icing. That was all they really offered; tape and ice.

Now it looks like the actual doctor's clinic near the packhouse. To make it more discombobulating, Doc Marx walks out of a backroom holding a clipboard, with a wary expression on his face.

"Come to the back," he says immediately. We follow him, blowing past Derek and Josh, two beta contenders that, judging by their injuries, may no longer be 'contenders.'

"Where is the bleeding occurring, Beta Iliana?" Doc Marx asks me calmly.

My mouth falls open to answer, but I cut off the words as two harsh growls fill the space. "Right. Out," I point to the door. "Both of you. I need to speak with the doctor without either of you trying to beat him up."

"I would also appreciate that," Doc Marx says wryly.

"No," Braxton replies. Sean just snarls.

"Who, exactly, is the Beta?" I say imperiously. I'm faking it, obviously. I probably look ridiculous, wrapped in a white towel with soaking wet hair, being held tightly by Braxton while Sean paces menacingly nearby. My abdomen is starting to cramp, though, and that makes my worry skyrocket. Something is wrong with me and these two knuckleheads are not helping.

"Out!" I command. Grumbling, Braxton sets me down and they both step toward the door. I watch, more than a little astonished, as they actually leave the room. "Close the door!" I call out after them. I hear more grumbling, then a large male hand swings out and shuts the door. Almost. They leave it open a crack. Idiots.

"I'm bleeding as if my heat is ending," I tell Doc Marx. I whisper, even though Sean and Braxton can probably hear me. I'm more concerned about Derek and Josh overhearing, although if they're smart they left when we walked in.

Never mind, they're not that smart.

"Can I remove the towel, Beta Iliana?" Doc Marx says.

My nose wrinkles. "You can call me Ili, Doc. You delivered me, remember?"

He smiles and says jokingly, "I didn't actually. Your mom delivered you in the car on the way to the clinic. Lay back for me and let's get you into the stirrups."

"Right," I mutter. Same difference. I listen and lay down, staring determinedly at the ceiling as he unwraps me from the towel. "Hmm. A little bit of blood. It does look like a heat bleed. Have you been sexually active with your two males, recently?"

"No," I blurt out, then babble like the idiot I am, "I haven't been active with that part of me touching... that part of them. Either of them. Not since my heat and it was only Sean even though Braxton Marked me, but nothing else. Nothing in this area," I motion to my nethers with a limp hand. "Nothing involving this area and them," I finish inanely.

Doc Marx chokes off a laugh. "Alright, I'm going to press on your abdomen. Let me know what hurts, alright?" He waits for my nod, then starts to press down on my belly. It all feels fine until he goes lower, right above my pubic bone it feels terrible.

"Hmm," he hums again. "Alright. Let's do an internal exam," he says slowly. I wait, feeling a little jittery, as he retrieves his tools. "Here we go, Ili. Just a little pinch." I listen to him move around. Whatever he stuck in me feels heavy and cold. "Alright, all done," he announces after a bit.

He helps me sit up and adjust the towel so I'm covered again. "Well, Ili, do you want your males in here for this?"

"Yes, please," I say quietly. Doc Marx looks stressed out. Never a good sign.

As if they were waiting at the crack in the door, Sean and Braxton rush back in. "What's happening?" Braxton demands to know.

"Well, it looks, oddly enough, like a heat cycle, but with lighter bleeding. I want to monitor this carefully. Your body may be simply catching up as you get healthier."

"She is not healthy," Sean says in a dangerous, low voice.

"Stop the bleeding," Braxton adds.

"He can't, you numbskulls," I snap at them. I decide to just give in to the urge to smack Sean and I do, backhanding him across his super-tight abs. He doesn't even spare me a glance, but does reach out and sweetly stroke my cheek as if I'm an irate kitten.

"I'm healthy!" I swat his hand away. "And if I'm still recovering, whose fault is that?" I blurt out, forgetting that Doc Marx doesn't necessarily know that it's Sean's fault.

My belly cramps a little and I feel a rush of liquid. Ew. Both my males whine and crowd me. It's unbelievably uncomfortable. These examination tables are not meant for cuddling. At least Doc put the stirrups away. Sean captures the hand I smacked him with and nuzzles his cheek into my palm.

"I suggest, Beta Iliana," Doc Marx has apparently given up on addressing Sean and Braxton at all, "that you go home and rest. I'll send for some tests and call you when you need to come in. Let us know if they're any changes or your symptoms get worse."

"Alright, I-"

My words are cut off when Sean lifts me into his arms and Braxton holds open the door. Josh is still there, staring open-mouthed at us. My she-wolf snorts at him. Idiot.

"Call for one of those dumb females to collect our things," Braxton orders him. "Female's locker room. Hurry the fuck up." The barked command works wonders as Josh rushes to grab his cell phone. He makes a hurried call while we stand there in the waiting room, Sean and Braxton damp and naked and me wrapped up in my blood-stained towel.

Goddess. We're a mess. I want to order the males to bring me back to the examination room. At least that's private.

"Honestly, is everyone always naked?" Bailey walks into the waiting room, her eyes wide behind her glasses. In her hands is a tub of ice cream and a bag. "Here, Brax. Hold this."

Braxton accepts the ice cream silently. Ignoring him, she puts the bag down and says, "I called Doc. He said you have your period. Well, not exactly, but I suppose it's fairly similar. Anyway, here are some clothes. Comfy sweats. I know you don't tend to do activities while you have your heat bleeds. Mina told me about the differences, but you need clothes if you want to walk around." She looks at Sean and Braxton pointedly.

"You mean when you interrogated Mom," Braxton mumbles.

Still ignoring him, Bailey starts to unpack the bag. "So, there's pads and tampons, but she-wolves seem to hate tampons, so I'm not sure if you want to try them. All that the pack has are super-sorbent, ultra-thick ones, but Doc said you weren't bleeding heavily. Which, by the way," she muses, "was a HIPPA violation... Anyway, I grabbed some thin ones. I also snagged a pair of period panties." She glances up at me, "they'll be too big for you, so I ordered some smaller ones in your size."

"Period panties?" I interrupt. I know about feminine products. Granted they are usually stashed in heat rooms or the heat cabins, but I'm not completely ignorant. I've never heard of period panties, though.

"These," Bailey flourishes a pair of dark grey panties at me. They're not cute at all and seem like a lot of fabric. "They catch leaks," she says solemnly.

I start to giggle. Sean is already putting me back on my feet, while Braxton takes the panties from Bailey and examines them carefully. I just watch them, my she-wolf's head curiously tilted to one side, as Braxton and Sean take a maxi pad from Bailey's towering stack of options and open it.

Bailey sidles over to me. "Do you think I should explain to them how to put it on?" she asks me in a whisper.

"No, this is hilarious," I reply. Braxton shoots us a grin, but Sean is glaring at the opened maxi pad as if it's rocket science.

"Turn it the other way," Bailey says. "Don't open the wings yet." Thank goodness we have a luna whose as smart as a rocket scientist to explain maxi pads.

Finally, they seem to have it sorted enough that they start to dress me. It's a little embarrassing to have Braxton's powerful form kneeling at my feet in front of Bailey, but my luna is preoccupied with her critical examination of their pad job.

"Make sure it doesn't bunch up," she orders. They slide the panties up, then pull a soft t-shirt over my head. The towel is whisked away and my males finish dressing me in record time.

Bailey is laughing silently, her hand cupped over her mouth. "Alright, now ice cream. Braxton, where did you put it?"

Sean scoops me up and Braxton grabs the ice cream. In unison, we leave the clinic.

"Conner wants us back in the offices if you feel up to it," Bailey says.

"Sure," I shrug. I'm feeling just a little crampy, but it's nothing horrible. Just a delayed heat bleed. My she-wolf isn't concerned, contentedly grooming her paws while her eyes swivel between the two naked hunks of sexy male surrounding us.

We all ride back together in Sean's truck. I catch Bailey's eye as Braxton huffs a little sadly when he climbs into the driver's seat.

"Where's your truck, Brax?" Bailey asks him, eyes wide and innocent.

"Ruined," he grunts.

Sean nips my ear as he cradles me in his lap. Bailey gives her sympathy to Braxton, pretending she doesn't see the look of suspicion he gives her.

"Hey," I say suddenly, sitting up. "Where are your guards?" I look around the truck as if some wolves will magically appear.

Bailey scoffs. "The so-called alpha females are supposed to be guarding me. They're so busy arguing about you and how it's totally unfair that you get the Beta title and two hunky males that I was able to just stroll off. They didn't even notice."

I look up at Sean worriedly. He glances down, then drops a swift kiss on my lips, startling me. "We'll keep her with us," he murmurs softly to me. "Keep you both safe."

"Agreed," Braxton says grimly from the front seat. "My brother is going to be pissed."

Bailey, with her human ears, frowns at us. "No fair. What did you say, Sean?" We don't answer her. "Guys? What is Conner going to be angry about? My guards?" she scoffs. "I'm in the middle of the packlands."

On cue, Braxton's phone starts to chirp. I know by his rapid response that it was Conner. Our alpha is probably panicking that no one knew where his pregnant luna was. Oh, my goddess, he's going to be enraged that Bailey could just, 'stroll off.'

"Will you teach me about your human feminine cycles?" I blurt out. It works, even if Bailey eyes me suspiciously. For the rest of the ride to the packhouse she explains all about it. It sounds like absolute torture.