Belle pushed open the heavy oak door of the herb shop just as the morning bells chimed across the square, her cotton-tail twitching beneath the layers of her simple linen skirt. The familiar scents of dried lavender, rosemary bundles, and fresh bread from the neighboring bakery wrapped around her like a warm embrace, mingling with her own natural honeyed aroma. She moved lightly despite her plush frame, round cheeks flushed from the brisk walk, her large rabbit ears swiveling at the soft chatter of early customers already browsing the shelves. “Morning, Mara,” she called to her coworker with a bright smile, amber eyes sparkling as she tied on her apron and began sorting the day’s deliveries of fresh thyme and chamomile.

The first hour passed in a comfortable rhythm, her sturdy hands deftly measuring out poultices and wrapping parcels for the steady stream of patrons. Yet beneath her porcelain skin, a subtle warmth began to unfurl low in her belly, like embers stirred by an unseen breath. Belle paused once to fan herself, blaming the rising sun streaming through the windows, but the ache lingered, a faint throb that pulsed in time with her heartbeat. She pressed on, chatting amiably about remedies for spring colds, her fluffy white curls bouncing as she turned to restock the upper shelves, the patches of warm brown on her arms catching the light like scattered freckles.

By midday, the warmth had deepened into a persistent hum, making her skin feel too tight and her breaths come a touch quicker. Customers came and went in a blur as she mixed salves with careful precision, but every brush of fabric against her breasts sent tiny sparks through her nerves, and her cotton-tail flicked restlessly. The scent of fresh bread from outside seemed sharper now, stirring something primal that made her thighs press together beneath her skirts. She excused herself briefly to the back room, splashing cool water on her face and muttering under her breath that it was just the season’s change, nothing more. Yet the ache refused to fade, coiling tighter with each passing customer query.

Afternoon shadows lengthened across the shop floor, and the cramps struck without warning—a sharp, insistent twist low in her abdomen that doubled her over behind the counter. Belle bit her lip to stifle a whimper, her wide eyes watering as the intensity built, heat flooding her core in waves that left her pussy clenching emptily against the growing slick. She couldn’t ignore it any longer; this heat was no ordinary cycle but something fierce and demanding, far beyond her usual quiet discomforts. Staggering slightly, she grabbed her shawl and made for the door, intending to slip home unseen.

Instead, she nearly collided with the towering figure just outside, his broad shoulders blocking the light like a living mountain. Ambrose stood there, golden eyes narrowing in immediate recognition as her honeyed scent hit him full force, his dark wolf ears perking and tail swaying with sudden alertness. “Belle? You’re burning up,” he rumbled, voice low and gravelly, the charcoal fur on his forearms visible beneath rolled sleeves. She looked up at him, cheeks burning hotter, and whispered the plea before she could second-guess it. “Ambrose… I need your help. This heat—it’s too much. Please.”

Ambrose’s golden eyes darkened as her words hung between them, the honeyed scent of her heat wrapping around him like a vice. His wolf ears twitched forward, nostrils flaring to catch every note of her arousal—the slick already dampening her thighs, the way her small cotton-tail quivered beneath her skirt. A low growl rumbled in his chest, his heavy tail lashing once before he caught it. “Inside,” he said, voice rough, one large hand steadying her elbow as he guided her back into the shop’s shadowed entryway. “You can’t walk home like this. Not with every alpha in the square about to catch wind.”

Belle’s wide amber eyes met his, her plump frame trembling as another cramp twisted low in her belly. She nodded, pressing closer to his solid warmth, her breasts brushing his arm through the thin linen of her blouse. “Thank you,” she breathed, the ache in her pussy pulsing harder now that help was near. “I—I didn’t mean for it to hit like this. It’s never been so strong.”

He led her through the back door and into the narrow alley behind the shops, his broad frame shielding her from view. “Listen close, Belle. I’ll help you through this week—no more, no less. My place is closer. But no feelings attached, understand? This is just me doing you a favor. I knot you when the heat peaks, keep you fed and safe, and when it’s done we go back to nodding in the square. That’s all.” His charcoal-furred forearms flexed as he shrugged off his coat and draped it over her shoulders, the fabric carrying his musky, pine-and-smoke scent that made her head spin.

She swallowed hard, thighs slicking further at the blunt promise in his tone. “Agreed. Just… please, Ambrose. It hurts.” Her hand found his instinctively, fingers curling around his thicker ones as another wave of heat rolled through her, nipples tightening against the fabric.

By the time they reached his modest cabin at the edge of the woods, Belle was panting, her fluffy curls sticking to her damp neck. Ambrose kicked the door shut behind them, golden eyes glowing in the dim light as he turned to her. “Strip,” he ordered softly, already unbuttoning his shirt to reveal the scarred, tanned expanse of his chest and the patches of dark fur across his shoulders. “Let me see how bad it is.”

Belle obeyed with shaking hands, letting her skirt and blouse fall away until she stood bare before him—porcelain skin flushed, round breasts heavy with peaked nipples, the soft curve of her belly leading down to the glistening folds of her pussy, already swollen and dripping. Her cotton-tail flicked nervously. Ambrose’s cock strained visibly against his trousers, thick and insistent, a bead of pre-cum darkening the fabric. He stepped closer, one massive hand cupping her cheek before sliding down to thumb her nipple. “On the bed. On your hands and knees. I’ll start with my tongue—ease some of that ache before I give you what you need.”

Unclaimed Heat: The Alpha's Temporary Aid