Page 29 of The Wolf

It was an unsettling realization.

Hope and dreams could break a person.

Brine wandered down the hallways with no destination in mind, and turned a corner. The previous, lingering smell of blood and battle that had been in his nose was replaced by something far more pleasant.

He stopped in his tracks, sniffing the air questioningly.

Ginger, fresh-tilled earth … and something sweet.

It teased his nose, a memory lingering in his brain telling him that he had smelled this before, but couldn’t place it.

Looking left and right, he tried to figure out where the smell was coming from. People were bustling down the hallway, servants, children and visitors alike—Robyn was transforming the manor into an orphanage, something Brine wholeheartedly approved of, and had caused him to immediately take a liking to the young woman while he performed his duties as her bodyguard.

His brows furrowed as he inhaled deeply, trying to catch the enticing scent once again. But the elusive scent came off none of them, nor did it come from the kitchen when Brine headed in that direction. Yet the smell got stronger. More pronounced. He could almost taste it on the air.

It was only once Brine traveled through the kitchen, past the servants’ quarters and down the hallway that led to the expansive Merjeri estate gardens, that Brine came upon the source of the smell.

A young, curvy, blond woman dressed in a nondescript brown dress and a darker brown cloak scurried past him on her way out to the gardens. The smell from before overwhelmed Brine, coming off the woman in waves. He inhaled deeply, endorphins rushing his brain as her scent filled every pore in his body.

The hair along his arms rose and a growl rumbled in his chest.

Instinctually, he knew what it was.

The woman smelled like amate.

Without thinking, Brine quickened his step until he was walking pace-to-pace with the woman. Everything inside him screamed to chase her down—to pin her to the wall, to bury his nose against the delicate skin between her neck and shoulder and mark her.

He exhaled raggedly.

You are not a savage.

But he wanted to be one. The woman’s close proximity had set him on edge.

She turned her head, and her eyes met his.

A shock went through his system.

Blue eyes. Deep blue, beautiful eyes, but wide and wary.

She darted her gaze away quickly, hunching her shoulders forward before speeding down the hallway and out into the gardens. In that moment Brine realized he couldn’t smell any fear coming off the woman, nothing to mingle with the intoxicating ginger, earthy scent emanating off her skin.

Calm down. You’re making her uncomfortable.

Not sure what else to do, Brine turned around and headed back toward the kitchen. Each step he took away from the woman, his pulse slowed. One didn’t have to act on someone’s scent. He wasn’t a complete brute.

“Brine.”

He blinked slowly, noticing Robyn for the first time. Though she was the duchess of Merjeri, Brine had grown accustomed to finding her in the servants’ quarters, talking to the maids and chefs and caretakers to ensure the place was fully transformed into the orphanage she dreamt of. Now, for example, she was tasting a roiling pot of soup being cooked over an obnoxiously warm fire. She nodded in approval to the chef, then turned her attention back to Brine.

“I hear I have you to thank for keeping us safe. Once again.”

He inclined his head politely, despite the fact that he felt like crawling out of his own skin. “That’s my job.”

Robyn laughed lightly. Softly. She was a delicate woman on the surface, but Brine now knew it was all a ruse. Or, rather, only part of what made the duchess so special. Knowing that she was the Hood made Brine respect her in the same way he respected Tempest.

But she wasn’t the woman who had just run into the garden. She wasn’this.

When was the last time he’d come across anyone who smelled remotely compatible? Years?

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